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Part 7, wherein a tragedy befalls the party - and our minds are opened

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A Renewed Resolve For too long, I have been asleep to the world. Following my father's tragic descent into a catatonic state, and the vile circumstances that brought it about, I must confess I fell into a familiar, dark despair—seeking solace at the bottom of a bottle.  But no longer. Now that we are closing in upon the men responsible, I find myself invigorated with new resolve. My father shall be avenged. Those responsible will be exposed and punished, and this evil rooted out from the streets of London. The tunnels and the cavern Taking the masks and cloaks from the two fallen cultists, we pressed on swiftly and quietly. There was little time to waste; our previous gunfire might well have alerted accomplices further ahead. The tunnel walls were littered with strange, occult symbols. They were everywhere. Recognizing none of them, we remained oblivious to their meaning. Were they a warning? Were we marching toward our own deaths? Soon, we entered a vast, seemingly natural cavern....
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Part 6, regarding the improper way to descend a staircase

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Wedensday, 21st of november, 1883 At the risk of seeming immodest, I must say that having my prediction about a secret tunnel system with entrances at the marked points of the maps confirmed, was quite a buzz. However, upon returning to our makeshift base, my compatriots rapidly descend into a rather tedious discussion about our options going forward. Whitcombe, true to form, insists on exploring ways to challenge the cabal we're hunting through the "appropriate channels". Thankfully, our resident actual lawman, Reggie, quickly disavows him of that notion. For a rozzer, he has an admirably cynical view of the limits of the law when it collides with power. I must say my participation in the debate was rather sparse, except to suggest that the best cure for the lunacy our opponents are engaged in would be an acute case of lead poisoning delivered at great velocity at short range, preferably intercranially. For my money, the way forward is rather obvious: We find the other e...
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Part 5, where we learn what we're up against

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The diary We retired once again to Edward's home, where I set upon Lawther's diary with considerable eagerness. The three met entirely by chance at college, discovering their interests and temperaments aligned despite their differing vocations. Leslie provided the intellectual foundation for the device, Bartley applied his engineering skills to refine it, and Lawther rendered the prototype drawings. Once the contraption was constructed, they required test subjects. Leslie, by then employed in the hospital mortuary department, arranged for an initial trial upon a cadaver, which proved unsuccessful. He then made the fateful decision to test the apparatus upon a comatose patient. Lawther notes the patient was terminal in any case, but the scandal, when discovered, was considerable. From Lawther's perspective, that concluded the enterprise. They remained friends but abandoned the machine entirely. Two years hence, Lawther learns that Leslie has been invited to join the Pacific ...
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Part 4, in which the mystery deepens

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[Editor's note: tenkte det var på tide med et bilde av major Whitcombe også!] The aftermath of our recent trials finds us convalescing within Edward's residence. Young Nash bears considerable injury, as does Mr. Beckett, though his wound proves more modest. I summoned Dr. Radcliffe to their aid, a gentleman who possesses both medical competence and the discretion to avoid pestering the Yard with tedious inquiries. Leslie's journal Whilst the others mended their wounds, I examined the late Dr. Benjamin Leslie's journal. A most disturbing document. Leslie conducted his experiments with a perverted scientific methodology, systematically applying that abominable black substance to his victims. Unethical? Monumentally so. Evil? Without question. The man pursued unending life itself, and had no qualms in ending the lives of a string of hapless victims in the process.  What troubles me considerably is his repeated reference to "those he serves." Whether sponsors of a...
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Part 3, where we learn where blood is supposed to be

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Tuesday, 13th of november, 1883 All our investigative travails have left us with a yearning hunger. Hunger for answers, and for cold cuts and cheese. And maybe some nice wine to go with it. Our appetites whetted, we retire to the Higgins estate, where we gather around the luncheon table. The questions abound: What is the real relationship between Geoffrey "The Knife" and our mysterious mad physician? Most of the victims are young women, why is one of them a small orphan boy? Why, after subjecting his victims to horrendous experiments, does the masked "doctor" then in an apparent fit of consideration spend inordinate amounts on placing them in care homes? Are we dealing with one masked culprit or several, since the victims' descriptions vary so much? What is the best wine pairing for slices of cold turkey? The answers are scarcer, it must be admitted: The Knife, capable of violence as he obviously is, is no mastermind, and probably just does the menial work for h...
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Part 2, where we investigate

As I expected, the Yard dispatched a detective with commendable haste when such an upstanding gentleman as our Edward was reported missing. I confess I was not entirely surprised to see none other than Detective Inspector Reginald Smythe-Higgins himself emerge from the carriage. I greeted him with a hearty clap upon the shoulder and laid out the facts of the matter in proper order—only to endure VEXING interjections from that young scoundrel Edmund Nash, who apparently deemed it necessary to embellish proceedings with entirely superfluous particulars! Nevertheless, one of the constables caught wind of the appellation Geoffrey "the Knife" (a more pedestrian alias is difficult to envision!) and showed immediate recognition. This "Knife" fellow is apparently a brute-for-hire, unaffiliated with any particular criminal enterprise, who involves himself in sundry nefarious activities—racketeering being chief among them. A thoroughly unsavory character, as one might well im...
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