The knave said he knew who the Jack the Ripper was as his forebears came from that down-river down-wind location of our nation's capital. When I queried this statement, made while we watched the third edit, he was reluctrant to give up this jewel of information without some liquid encouragement. An hour passed and seething with impatience for this inside knowledge of a mystery that has perplexed millions, I demanded that he tell me the true identity of Jack the Ripper!

His hands, heavily stained with the mulberry preserve, shook as he lifted the goblet of wine to his lips and then announced in a slurred whisper that prompted a ruby dribble from the corner of his mouth, that it was 'Ol' Nick himself'.

I was speechless at this disclosure as he had drunk three bottles of the best claret to bring himself to tell me this patent rubbish! Before I could start shouting he slumped to the floor and started to snore.

As the Knave would say - result!

Damn! He will suffer for this!

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