The Valley Virginian. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1865-1895, 1888-11-22
The Whitechapel Fiend.
An0th er Woman M - rssereis and Horribly
Muiiiaped i'm k.0nd0n.

In9 WnlI6Chap0l El0nQ.
An0tks en- Woman m rrss erei3 and Horribly
Muifiaped i'm LOnd0n.
NO CLUE TO THE PERPETRATOR
LONDON, Nov. 1.-THE Whitechapel
fend has committed another butchefy
more horrible than any that has preceded
it. TIE crime was committed evidently
in broad day ligh in Dorset Street Spital
fields. Dorset Street is one of the na row.
est, dirtiest little alleys of all hose that
go to make up the labyrinth know as the
man has to ask questions. a rare thing.
while his passenger on The iourn loses
| all idea of location and wonders whether
cabhorse's head or tail is pointing toward
the North Until to-day only a very few
out OF every million of Londoners knew
that Dorset Street in the East end existed.
But they know it now, and, with all other
EngllshnleD. will talk about it for weeks.
Friday the Lord Mayors show took
place. and all interest was taken from the
senseess pageant by ragged boys strug-
Cling through the crowds W til bundles Of
newspapers and yelling that anoth I horri
BILE Whitechapel murder had occurred in
Dorset Street.
In each case miserable creature be-
longing to the most degraded class of wo-
men is mutlated in an inconcelvably bar.
barous fashion. the murderer has disap.
peared, the police do nothing but observe
secrecy-a secrecy easily melted with
half crown, by the way-the general public
theorize as to whether the murderer is mad
or sane, short or tall, English or foreign,
ETC.: the Whitechapel women SILVER in
lunches, wondering whose turn will come
next, and after a while the terror in the
East End and the curiosity in the West
End subside together until fresh murder
comes renew them.
| SCENE OF THE CRIME.
This latest Whitechapel mmd der was not
committed in Dorset Street, properly
speaking. Out of it there opens an arched
passage, low and narrow. A big man
walking through it would bend his head
and turn sideways to keep his shoulders
from rubbing against the dirty bricks At
the end of the passage there is high court
not ten feet broad and thirty long, tnickly
whiteWashed all around for sanitary rea
sons to the height of ten feet. That is
Miller Court. Misery is written all over
the place, the worst kind of London mis-
cry, such as those who have lived their
lives in America can have no idea Of.
The first door at the end and on right OF
the passage opens into tiny damp room
on level with the pavement. The land
lord Of this and neighboring rooms is d
John Mccarthy, vino keeps little shop in
Dorset Street, on the side Of the passage
About year ago he rented it to a woman
who looked about 80. She was popular
among the females of the neighborh0od
shared her beer generously, as have been
tearfully informed, and went under the
title of Mary Jane Mccarthy. Her land
lord knew she had another name, Kelly,
that of her husband, but her friends had
not heard of it.
! Nary Jane took up her residence in the
little room in Miller Court when Kelly
left her. Since then her life has been that
of all the women about her. Last night
she went out as usunl and was seen at va
rious times up to II 80 drinking at various
low beer shops in Commercial Street. At
last Just before midnight she went home
with some man. who appears to have dis
suaded her from making good night visit,
| lrsp p, MA
nearest her room. No description can be
obtained of this man.
AT 10 o'clock Friday morning, just IS
the Lord Mayor was climbing into his
golden carriage, three Mortified policeman
| who had first looked in through Mary
Jane window and then drank big glasses
of brandy TO steady themselves, were
breaking in her door with pick. axe. The
Whitechapel murderer had done MS work
with more thoroughness than ever before.
The miserable woman's body was literally
scattered all over her room. A description
of such butcbery is unpleasant to write,
| but is necessary to understand London's
| state of terror and to form an opinion as
to this wonderful murderer. Almost every
conceivable mutiIation had been practiced
on the body.
The butchery was SO frightful that more
than an hour was spent by the doctors in
endeayoring to reconstruct the woman S
| body from the pieces, so as to place it in
a coffin and have it photographed,
Friday midnight Dorset Street and all
the neighborhood was swarmbg with
| typical degraded Whitechapel throng
Those with any money were getting drunk
very fast. Many sober woman and all the
drunken ones were crying from terror
while the men lounged about singing or
fighting and chaGng the women according
to their ideas of humor. The police were
and are doing nothing of Importance. The
poor woman's fragments, put together as
skilfully as possible are lying in the
Houndsdltch Mortuary in scratched and
dirty shell Of coffin often used before.
While the body was being carried from the
scene of the murder thousands crowded as
near as the police would allow, and gazed
with uplifted caps and plying faces at the
latest victim.
THE MURDERED WOMAN S PAL.
The most interesting Individual in Mil :
Ter Court was woman who had intimate
ly known The dead woman. Mary Jane IS
pal, she called herself. Her room is exact
ly opposite the murdered woman IS, and its
agitated proprietor stood in the doorway
urging ayoVng girl with struggling wisps of
red hair who had started for beer, not to be
gone minute. She assured me that she
would be gald to talk to me while Kate was
away, just to forget the horrors. The
woman spoke well of the dead. She had not
always been on peaceable terms with the
murdered woman, but they were good
friends, though quarrelsome. Mary Jane
was pretty before she was cut up, she said
and she was only "a. moi 80. as she looked
she would fight, and did not care what sort
of place she lived in.
The murdered woman told companion
last evening that she was without money