The Art Behind a Murder

Chapter Three - The Men of Whitechapel

I hugged myself for warmth as I ran down the streets of Central London. The weather had been very dull lately, so there were puddles everywhere. Each time I took a step, the half-frozen puddles splashed up my leather boots and drenched the hem of my dress with muddy rainwater.

I looked down at the piece of paper once more to remind myself of the address.

Whitechapel... I thought. What's so special about this place?

Hesitantly, I walked through the street that leads to the center of the town. Each footstep I made echoed through the sooty, narrow streets.

I had now entered Whitechapel. The moon was high and the wind nipped at my skirt, making the red frills dance in rhythm to the falling raindrops from a nearby gutter. Whilst pulling my coat around me tighter, I continued towards Old Castle Street in bold strides. As I drew closer, I heard a faint rumble from the distance, and the faint chatter of some commoners. I turned the last corner, passed the old wash rooms, and found myself in the middle of Old Castle Street - and a large, thriving market.

I looked around in confusion at all the shoppers gathered here. They all covered their faces with a hat or bonnet, and they each wore dark, embellished outfits. Taking a look at the stalls, the products being sold and bought were not your average groceries - each item on the many stalls were foreign and interesting.

I shouldn't be here...

Shoppers passed me, lifting their gaze to me and glaring as if I weren't welcome.

Who on earth would want me to go here?

I stepped backwards, turning to leave, but I swung my body around and collided with a man, whose face was shielded by the darkness of the night.

"Oh. I am so sorry, sir!" My lip trembled as I began to grow afraid. I stepped backwards once more to find another gentleman standing behind me, whose face was also hidden.

"Do not trouble yourself with an apology, ma'am." The first man said.

"We were just wondering what an outsider would be doing roaming the streets of Whitechapel at night." The men both stepped closer, trapping me so that I had no escape.

"I... I..." I violently shook, and breathed heavily. Although I was terrified, my head was still held high.

The first man reached out to grab my hair, but I ducked and screamed. The chuckles of the two men echoed across the market, and shoppers grinned at them - as if they were approving of their actions. The other man wrapped his fingers around my neck, squeezing the little sense I had out of me. I gasped for breath and clawed at his hands, trying to make him let go. My arms and legs were grasped hold of, and the men dragged me over to a dark corner where less shoppers roamed.

"Let go of me!" I screamed, my voice hoarse and barely a whisper from where he strangled me.

Amid the chaotic and disgruntled noises around me, a calm, soft voice could be heard in the darkness.

"I suggest you men stop frightening the young lady and move along."

A young man dressed in a black suit and cloak was casually leaning against the wall they had just thrown me against. He got up and pushed the men aside.

"I suggest you stay out of our business." The first man said. Without any warning, he dived at the cloaked gentleman and tried to knock him off his feet. The gentleman simply moved out of the way, the black cloak trailing in the wind, and left the man to fall face first onto the cobblestone ground. The other man let go of me and tried to do the same as his companion, but the cloaked gentleman simply swiped his cane across the man's feet, making him also fall to the ground. His movements reminded me of chess - each move was smooth and well thought out, like a King moving from square to square. He just happened to checkmate all these men.