Ripper
venomous reply to his reference to that particular story.
    “So, Mr. Stevenson, what you’re saying is that your letter had nothing to do with the Ripper case? If you weren’t seeking information, then what pray tell prompted the notes?”
    Once more Robert Louis Stevensonturned and watched the men of London’s finest as they talked in loud voice and laughed with even more zest. He finally looked satisfied that no one was listening. As he leaned back to face the chief inspector, the waiter returned and placed the two drinks on the table. Stevenson immediately took a sip and then grimaced. He placed the glass back down and then looked at Abberline who ignored his owndouble scotch as he waited for the writer to answer his question. He himself was aware that he shouldn’t be discussing the Ripper case with anyone from outside his offices.
    “I am not here to ask questions of you Mr. Abberline. I wouldn’t do that,” he said as he once more nervously looked around. “I am being followed, have been ever since docking three days ago in East Hampton. I suspected evenin San Francisco I had company following my every move.”
    “Mysterious indeed, worthy of a novel in and of itself, wouldn’t you say?” Abberline waited for a reaction; he didn’t have to wait long.
    “I believe I stated sir that I would never attempt such a literary farce again,” he said with his eyes bulging. “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde may have contributed to—”
    Abberline watched as the words frozein the throat of one of the most articulate men in the history of literature. After a brief flare of emotion, Stevenson closed his eyes and then shook his head.
    “I know who your Jack the Ripper is.”
    Abberline froze. His eyes never left those of Stevenson. “I believe you have to explain that rather remarkable statement, Mr. Stevenson.”
    “I met him in California during my research for Dr. Jekylland Mr. Hyde. He is an American, a professor of chemistry, and … and … something to do with flowers. I’m sorry, but my notes for the book have been misplaced, or stolen, I am not sure which. But I’m sure it had something to do with flowers, which was part of his work he wouldn’t discuss.”
    Abberline looked at the man sitting before him and knew that the odds of his notes being misplaced was thebetter of the two scenarios. He could smell the paranoia coming from the frightened man before him.
    “Who is this gentleman?”
    With one last look around the crowded eatery, Robert Louis Stevenson related how he had met Professor Lawrence Ambrose and researched material for his upcoming novel, the Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde , due to the good professor’s work with aggression and metabolismchanges that could possibly occur in the human body. Stevenson spoke for close to an hour.
    Abberline listened politely, refraining from making faces or leaning one way or the other in his uncomfortable silence at the fantastic tale being related to him from one of the most influential people in all of the Empire.
    Silence hung over the table and the two double scotches sat untouched in frontof the two men.
    “Mr. Stevenson, you are an educated man, probably far more than myself, so I will be careful when I use the words too fantastic to believe , sir.”
    “Which…”
    “Everything, Mr. Stevenson, from the science you claim this man has developed to Her Majesty’s government trying to silence you. Take your pick, sir, it all sounds rather far-fetched.” Abberline checked his anger at this obviouswaste of time. He reached out, took hold of his glass, and raised it to his lips; with one last shake of his head he downed the double dose of fire without a grimace.
    “Chief Inspector, I saw this man actually change into something he is not. Not just changes in his demeanor and attitude, but physical changes to his body as well.”
    Abberline placed his glass on the table in front of him and thenreached for Stevenson’s untouched glass. He pulled

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