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Lestrade coloured deeply.
    ‘I don’t see anything funny!’ he snapped. ‘When it is a question of protecting the public and of apprehending criminals, I am proud to say that there are no lengths to which the Metropolitan Police are not prepared to go.’
    ‘My dear fellow, you must excuse us,’ cried Holmes. ‘I feel sure I speak for Dr Watson in saying that I have nothing but the highest regard for the courage and devotion of your colleagues. It is just, you know, that the idea of our brawny and hirsute bobbies got up in linsey skirts and velvet bonnets takes a little getting used to.’
    Lestrade’s face was a picture of injured righteousness.
    ‘It seems there’s no pleasing you, Mr Holmes. You never tire of criticising us for doing things by the book, but as soon as we try something out of the ordinary you laugh in our faces. Well, I have more pressing business than to sit here joking with you two gentlemen. If I had known you weren’t interested in working with us on this case, I wouldn’t have troubled you.’
    He got to his feet. Holmes also rose.
    ‘You are quite mistaken if you think I am uninterested in the case, Inspector,’ he said soothingly. ‘On the contrary, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to be associated with your investigation. As I have said, I think it most likely that the murderer will attempt to strike within the next few nights. It is therefore imperative that our plans should be laid. If it is convenient, I propose we meet this afternoon at the Yard to discuss our strategy.’
    Suitably mollified by this overture, Lestrade left in much better humour. Holmes saw him out, returning to the room with an expression of great glee.
    ‘What a tonic our good Lestrade is, to be sure!’ he cried. ‘Believe me, Watson, if you ever feel that you are growing old and stupid, the best cure I know is the company of one of Her Majesty’s detectives. They really should be hired out by the hour so that doctors could prescribe the remedy.’
    ‘Surely you are a little harsh,’ I objected. ‘The authorities seem to me to have done everything that can be expected.’
    ‘Exactly, my dear fellow! That’s what I find so amusing. They do just what one expects, like so many clockwork toys. I must admit, though, that this latest stroke of Lestrade’s is something I had not foreseen. Policemen in petticoats! I certainly hope they have their wits about them, or before long the illustrated papers may be proclaiming the discovery of the horribly mutilated body of a policeman dressed in whore’s rags in a Spitalfields alley. Imagine that, Watson!’
    I could not but deplore this banter, and I sought to turn the conversation to more seemly courses.
    ‘Come now, Holmes! You rally the authorities freely enough, but what is your own solution? You refuse to give even a hint of daylight, yet you mock others for blundering in the dark. That’s hardly sporting, you know.’
    ‘Well said, old friend! No doubt I have been liberal with my jibes, and it is true I have no more idea of the murderer’s identity than Lestrade does. But I do at least have a clear idea of what kind of man he is.’
    ‘Here is a beast, a savage. That much is plain enough.’
    Holmes glanced at me keenly.
    ‘I believe that you have a theory, Doctor. Out with it, then! It is a free-for-all at this stage.’
    ‘All right, then. I believe that the murderer of these poor women is some brutal savage like Tonga. § I note thatthe killings have all occurred close to the docks. Suppose that this native is employed as a deckhand on some foreign ship. Fresh from his barbarous homeland, he is set loose in London. Crazed with drink, he roams the streets by night. Then, chancing upon some penniless unfortunate huddled in a doorway, he kills her in his savage frenzy. He then slips back on board his ship, which sails at first light. His tracks are thus effectively covered, and when the vessel returns a few weeks later he is free to indulge