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From the Hainsworths; they regard this primary source below found by R. J. Palmer and David Barat as both a breakthrough and as definitive:
"THE REFEREE" - Sunday 24 August 1913
DAGONET'S COLUMN (George R. Sims, one of Melville Macnaghten's closest friends despite the former being a socialistic Liberal and the latter a one-nation Tory)
MUSTARD AND CRESS
I have been reading with great interest Mrs Belloc Lowndes’s thrilling story of “The Lodger,” which is appearing in the Daily Telegraph. The story of “The Avenger” suggests the adventures of Jack the Ripper, and the reader, as he follows the narrative, finds himself wondering if “The Lodger” may not himself be the mysterious woman-killer who is being so diligently searched for by the police.
I am not going to make any comment on the remarkable sensation story the gifted authoress has founded on the mystery of the maniac who has been handed down to infamy as Jack the Ripper.
The Real Jack WAS a Lodger
during the whole of the time he was committing his crimes, and the house in which he lodged was in the neighbourhood of Blackheath. It was after his last maniacal murder in Miller’s –court that he disappeared from his lodgings. His body was found a month later in the Thames, and the probability is that he flung himself into the river a few hours after committing his last crime.
But it is not to revive the old controversy as to the identity of Jack that I am now referring to Mrs. Belloc Lowndes’s remarkable story. I refer to it because it has recalled to my memory a strange experience of my own. Somewhere among my papers I have an astounding document signed by the lady in whose house a man whom she firmly believed to be Jack had lodged. He had come to her house very much as the mysterious “Lodger” in the Telegraph serial comes to Mrs. Bunting. He was supposed to be a medical student. The odd thing about him was that he went out very little in the daytime, but frequently went out late at night, and always carried a small black bag.
He was rather a prepossessing-looking man, appeared to have plenty of money for his modest needs, and made himself agreeable to the members of the family. He made himself so agreeable that he landlady’s niece, who lived with her, did not feel annoyed when the lodger confessed that
He Was In Love With Her
The landlady’s husband was a foreigner. He was a professor of languages and held an official position at a public institution. When he heard that the lodger was paying attentions to his niece he was annoyed. “I didn’t like the man,” he said, “and we knew nothing of him beyond the fact that his reference was a doctor in whose house he had lodged before he came to us.” The professor was so annoyed that he ordered his niece to have nothing to do with the young man, and sent her away to a relation in the country. He also insisted upon his wife giving the lodger a fortnight’s notice. The lodger was annoyed and upset and received his dismissal with a bad brace.
That night the lodger went out soon after ten. The landlady saw him leave the house with his black bag. At three o’clock in the morning she was awakened by the noise of the front door closing. She struck a light and opened her bedroom door a little way and looked out. She saw the lodger coming up the stairs. He was in a state of great excitement, his face was marked with deep scratches, and he looked like a man who had been having an awful struggle with someone. “I’ve been attacked by thieves,” he said, when he saw the landlady looking at him. “Two men and a woman set about me in a dark corner of a street, and I had to run for my life.” Then he went to his bedroom.
About ten o’clock the next morning his landlady heard the lodger go to the bathroom, and she took that opportunity to go into her lodger’s bedroom and have a look round. He had lighted a fire himself, and on the hearth she saw
The Remains of Burnt Linen
The bag was on a chair by the side of the bed. She opened it, and in it she saw a long and curiously shaped knife.
The landlady was so alarmed that she went off at once to the institution at which her husband was engaged. On her way she caught sight of the newspaper placards. Two women had been found in the early hours of the morning murdered and mutilated in a way which left no doubt that the murderer was Jack the Ripper. She told the story of her discovery in the lodger’s room to the professor, who returned at once with her to the house to make a personal investigation before communicating with the police. When they reached the house the lodger had taken his belongings and had gone. He had left a fortnight’s rent, and a short note: “As I do not care to remain with you ‘under notice’ I have thought it better to leave at once.”
The professor hurried off to the police-station and told his story. Every search was made for the missing lodger, but without success, and shortly afterwards another murder was committed. Then came the last in Miller’s-court, and after that the information in the possession of Scotland Yard left very little doubt in the official mind as to
Who Jack Really Was
He committed suicide while the police were looking for him, and the finding of his body in the Thames put an end to all further official search for him. The real Jack was an insane doctor named D*****, who had been in a lunatic asylum and had escaped. He was a homicidal maniac whose friends, alarmed at his disappearance, had communicated with Scotland Yard and given a full description of him.
Several women in Whitechapel, of the class Jack selected his victims from, when shown the photograph the friends left with the police, declared that it was exactly like a man whom they had seen about in the neighbourhood on the nights the crimes had been committed. Two of them declared that he had spoken to them. The body of the man was found in the Thames a month after the murderer’s last crime. And the body had been a month in the water.
It was when these facts came to my knowledge that I put away the document the landlady of the mysterious lodger had left with me. I accepted, as everybody who knew the facts has accepted, the police theory that
Jack Had Been Identified,
and there was no useful purpose to be served in following up any other “clue.” The “revelation” made to me by the landlady who thought she had had Jack beneath her roof was brought vividly to my mind by the thrilling story of “The Lodger” in the Daily Telegraph.
John George 'Jack' Littlechild, the former head of the Irish Desk in 1888 (later Special Branch) read the column above and was so intrigued and perplexed by its claims that he initiated a correspondence with Sims. The ex-police chief was trying - as deferentially as possible towards his social superior - to alert the famous writer that somehow the latter had been significantly misled about Scotland Yard's prime suspect of 1888. Littlechild logically but nevertheless wrongly assumes it must be by that empty braggart Dr. Robert Anderson via the best-selling crime chronicler, Major Arthur Griffiths.
The first salvo by Littlechild to Sims is lost as is the writer's reply. It seems Sims must have written back something deflective like: well, I got my information from Major Griffiths; he meant from his big book of 1898. But Littlechild seems not to have grasped this and thinks he means verbally. This is the final letter wherein the ex-chief is going to have really lay out to what extent Sims has been deceived, and thus deceived his large readership. No wonder he obsequiously writes: no need to reply to this bad news.
It never occurs to Littlechild that in fact it is he who has been misled by "Good Old Mac" and that Sims knows the whole truth about "D.....", but has fictionalised the killer's profile for reasons of gentlemanly discretion to protect the innocent, let alone that [Druitt's] particulars have been split into two lodgers in the same article.
"THE LITTLECHILD LETTER" (discovered by Stewart P. Evans in 1993)
8, The Chase
Clapham Common S.W.,
23rd September 1913
Dear Sir,
I was pleased to receive your letter which I shall put away in 'good company' to read again, perhaps some day when old age overtakes me and when to revive memories of the past may be a solace.
Knowing the great interest you take in all matters criminal, and abnormal, I am just going to inflict one more letter on you on the 'Ripper' subject. Letters as a rule are only a nuisance when they call for a reply but this does not need one. I will try and be brief.
I never heard of a Dr D. in connection with the Whitechapel murders but amongst the suspects, and to my mind a very likely one, was a Dr. T. (which sounds much like D.) He was an American quack named Tumblety and was at one time a frequent visitor to London and on these occasions constantly brought under the notice of police, there being a large dossier concerning him at Scotland Yard. Although a 'Sycopathia Sexualis' subject he was not known as a 'Sadist' (which the murderer unquestionably was) but his feelings toward women were remarkable and bitter in the extreme, a fact on record. Tumblety was arrested at the time of the murders in connection with unnatural offences and charged at Marlborough Street, remanded on bail, jumped his bail, and got away to Boulogne. He shortly left Boulogne and was never heard of afterwards. It was believed he committed suicide but certain it is that from this time the 'Ripper' murders came to an end.
With regard to the term 'Jack the Ripper' it was generally believed at the Yard that Tom Bullen of the Central News was the originator, but it is probable Moore, who was his chief, was the inventor. It was a smart piece of journalistic work. No journalist of my time got such privileges from Scotland Yard as Bullen. Mr James Munro when Assistant Commissioner, and afterwards Commissioner, relied on his integrity. Poor Bullen occasionally took too much to drink, and I fail to see how he could help it knocking about so many hours and seeking favours from so many people to procure copy. One night when Bullen had taken a 'few too many' he got early information of the death of Prince Bismarck and instead of going to the office to report it sent a laconic telegram 'Bloody Bismarck is dead'. On this I believe Mr Charles Moore fired him out.
It is very strange how those given to 'Contrary sexual instinct' and 'degenerates' are given to cruelty, even Wilde used to like to be punched about. It may interest you if I give you an example of this cruelty in the case of the man Harry Thaw and this is authentic as I have the boy's statement. Thaw was staying at the Carlton Hotel and one day laid out a lot of sovereigns on his dressing table, then rang for a call boy on pretence of sending out a telegram. He made some excuse and went out of the room and left the boy there and watched through the chink of the door. The unfortunate boy was tempted and took a sovereign from the pile and Thaw returning to the room charged him with stealing. The boy confessed when Thaw asked whether he should send for the police or whether he should punish him himself. The boy scared to death consented to take his punishment from Thaw who then made him undress, strapped him to the foot of the bedstead, and thrashed him with a cane, drawing blood. He then made the boy get into a bath in which he placed a quantity of salt. It seems incredible that such a thing could take place in any hotel but it is a fact. This was in 1906.
Now pardon me -- it is finished. Except that I knew Major Griffiths for many years. He probably got his information from Anderson who only 'thought he knew'.
Faithfully yours,
J. G. Littlechild
George R. Sims Esq.,
12, Clarence Terrace,
Regents Park N. W.
"THE REFEREE" - Sunday 24 August 1913
DAGONET'S COLUMN (George R. Sims, one of Melville Macnaghten's closest friends despite the former being a socialistic Liberal and the latter a one-nation Tory)
MUSTARD AND CRESS
I have been reading with great interest Mrs Belloc Lowndes’s thrilling story of “The Lodger,” which is appearing in the Daily Telegraph. The story of “The Avenger” suggests the adventures of Jack the Ripper, and the reader, as he follows the narrative, finds himself wondering if “The Lodger” may not himself be the mysterious woman-killer who is being so diligently searched for by the police.
I am not going to make any comment on the remarkable sensation story the gifted authoress has founded on the mystery of the maniac who has been handed down to infamy as Jack the Ripper.
The Real Jack WAS a Lodger
during the whole of the time he was committing his crimes, and the house in which he lodged was in the neighbourhood of Blackheath. It was after his last maniacal murder in Miller’s –court that he disappeared from his lodgings. His body was found a month later in the Thames, and the probability is that he flung himself into the river a few hours after committing his last crime.
But it is not to revive the old controversy as to the identity of Jack that I am now referring to Mrs. Belloc Lowndes’s remarkable story. I refer to it because it has recalled to my memory a strange experience of my own. Somewhere among my papers I have an astounding document signed by the lady in whose house a man whom she firmly believed to be Jack had lodged. He had come to her house very much as the mysterious “Lodger” in the Telegraph serial comes to Mrs. Bunting. He was supposed to be a medical student. The odd thing about him was that he went out very little in the daytime, but frequently went out late at night, and always carried a small black bag.
He was rather a prepossessing-looking man, appeared to have plenty of money for his modest needs, and made himself agreeable to the members of the family. He made himself so agreeable that he landlady’s niece, who lived with her, did not feel annoyed when the lodger confessed that
He Was In Love With Her
The landlady’s husband was a foreigner. He was a professor of languages and held an official position at a public institution. When he heard that the lodger was paying attentions to his niece he was annoyed. “I didn’t like the man,” he said, “and we knew nothing of him beyond the fact that his reference was a doctor in whose house he had lodged before he came to us.” The professor was so annoyed that he ordered his niece to have nothing to do with the young man, and sent her away to a relation in the country. He also insisted upon his wife giving the lodger a fortnight’s notice. The lodger was annoyed and upset and received his dismissal with a bad brace.
That night the lodger went out soon after ten. The landlady saw him leave the house with his black bag. At three o’clock in the morning she was awakened by the noise of the front door closing. She struck a light and opened her bedroom door a little way and looked out. She saw the lodger coming up the stairs. He was in a state of great excitement, his face was marked with deep scratches, and he looked like a man who had been having an awful struggle with someone. “I’ve been attacked by thieves,” he said, when he saw the landlady looking at him. “Two men and a woman set about me in a dark corner of a street, and I had to run for my life.” Then he went to his bedroom.
About ten o’clock the next morning his landlady heard the lodger go to the bathroom, and she took that opportunity to go into her lodger’s bedroom and have a look round. He had lighted a fire himself, and on the hearth she saw
The Remains of Burnt Linen
The bag was on a chair by the side of the bed. She opened it, and in it she saw a long and curiously shaped knife.
The landlady was so alarmed that she went off at once to the institution at which her husband was engaged. On her way she caught sight of the newspaper placards. Two women had been found in the early hours of the morning murdered and mutilated in a way which left no doubt that the murderer was Jack the Ripper. She told the story of her discovery in the lodger’s room to the professor, who returned at once with her to the house to make a personal investigation before communicating with the police. When they reached the house the lodger had taken his belongings and had gone. He had left a fortnight’s rent, and a short note: “As I do not care to remain with you ‘under notice’ I have thought it better to leave at once.”
The professor hurried off to the police-station and told his story. Every search was made for the missing lodger, but without success, and shortly afterwards another murder was committed. Then came the last in Miller’s-court, and after that the information in the possession of Scotland Yard left very little doubt in the official mind as to
Who Jack Really Was
He committed suicide while the police were looking for him, and the finding of his body in the Thames put an end to all further official search for him. The real Jack was an insane doctor named D*****, who had been in a lunatic asylum and had escaped. He was a homicidal maniac whose friends, alarmed at his disappearance, had communicated with Scotland Yard and given a full description of him.
Several women in Whitechapel, of the class Jack selected his victims from, when shown the photograph the friends left with the police, declared that it was exactly like a man whom they had seen about in the neighbourhood on the nights the crimes had been committed. Two of them declared that he had spoken to them. The body of the man was found in the Thames a month after the murderer’s last crime. And the body had been a month in the water.
It was when these facts came to my knowledge that I put away the document the landlady of the mysterious lodger had left with me. I accepted, as everybody who knew the facts has accepted, the police theory that
Jack Had Been Identified,
and there was no useful purpose to be served in following up any other “clue.” The “revelation” made to me by the landlady who thought she had had Jack beneath her roof was brought vividly to my mind by the thrilling story of “The Lodger” in the Daily Telegraph.
John George 'Jack' Littlechild, the former head of the Irish Desk in 1888 (later Special Branch) read the column above and was so intrigued and perplexed by its claims that he initiated a correspondence with Sims. The ex-police chief was trying - as deferentially as possible towards his social superior - to alert the famous writer that somehow the latter had been significantly misled about Scotland Yard's prime suspect of 1888. Littlechild logically but nevertheless wrongly assumes it must be by that empty braggart Dr. Robert Anderson via the best-selling crime chronicler, Major Arthur Griffiths.
The first salvo by Littlechild to Sims is lost as is the writer's reply. It seems Sims must have written back something deflective like: well, I got my information from Major Griffiths; he meant from his big book of 1898. But Littlechild seems not to have grasped this and thinks he means verbally. This is the final letter wherein the ex-chief is going to have really lay out to what extent Sims has been deceived, and thus deceived his large readership. No wonder he obsequiously writes: no need to reply to this bad news.
It never occurs to Littlechild that in fact it is he who has been misled by "Good Old Mac" and that Sims knows the whole truth about "D.....", but has fictionalised the killer's profile for reasons of gentlemanly discretion to protect the innocent, let alone that [Druitt's] particulars have been split into two lodgers in the same article.
"THE LITTLECHILD LETTER" (discovered by Stewart P. Evans in 1993)
8, The Chase
Clapham Common S.W.,
23rd September 1913
Dear Sir,
I was pleased to receive your letter which I shall put away in 'good company' to read again, perhaps some day when old age overtakes me and when to revive memories of the past may be a solace.
Knowing the great interest you take in all matters criminal, and abnormal, I am just going to inflict one more letter on you on the 'Ripper' subject. Letters as a rule are only a nuisance when they call for a reply but this does not need one. I will try and be brief.
I never heard of a Dr D. in connection with the Whitechapel murders but amongst the suspects, and to my mind a very likely one, was a Dr. T. (which sounds much like D.) He was an American quack named Tumblety and was at one time a frequent visitor to London and on these occasions constantly brought under the notice of police, there being a large dossier concerning him at Scotland Yard. Although a 'Sycopathia Sexualis' subject he was not known as a 'Sadist' (which the murderer unquestionably was) but his feelings toward women were remarkable and bitter in the extreme, a fact on record. Tumblety was arrested at the time of the murders in connection with unnatural offences and charged at Marlborough Street, remanded on bail, jumped his bail, and got away to Boulogne. He shortly left Boulogne and was never heard of afterwards. It was believed he committed suicide but certain it is that from this time the 'Ripper' murders came to an end.
With regard to the term 'Jack the Ripper' it was generally believed at the Yard that Tom Bullen of the Central News was the originator, but it is probable Moore, who was his chief, was the inventor. It was a smart piece of journalistic work. No journalist of my time got such privileges from Scotland Yard as Bullen. Mr James Munro when Assistant Commissioner, and afterwards Commissioner, relied on his integrity. Poor Bullen occasionally took too much to drink, and I fail to see how he could help it knocking about so many hours and seeking favours from so many people to procure copy. One night when Bullen had taken a 'few too many' he got early information of the death of Prince Bismarck and instead of going to the office to report it sent a laconic telegram 'Bloody Bismarck is dead'. On this I believe Mr Charles Moore fired him out.
It is very strange how those given to 'Contrary sexual instinct' and 'degenerates' are given to cruelty, even Wilde used to like to be punched about. It may interest you if I give you an example of this cruelty in the case of the man Harry Thaw and this is authentic as I have the boy's statement. Thaw was staying at the Carlton Hotel and one day laid out a lot of sovereigns on his dressing table, then rang for a call boy on pretence of sending out a telegram. He made some excuse and went out of the room and left the boy there and watched through the chink of the door. The unfortunate boy was tempted and took a sovereign from the pile and Thaw returning to the room charged him with stealing. The boy confessed when Thaw asked whether he should send for the police or whether he should punish him himself. The boy scared to death consented to take his punishment from Thaw who then made him undress, strapped him to the foot of the bedstead, and thrashed him with a cane, drawing blood. He then made the boy get into a bath in which he placed a quantity of salt. It seems incredible that such a thing could take place in any hotel but it is a fact. This was in 1906.
Now pardon me -- it is finished. Except that I knew Major Griffiths for many years. He probably got his information from Anderson who only 'thought he knew'.
Faithfully yours,
J. G. Littlechild
George R. Sims Esq.,
12, Clarence Terrace,
Regents Park N. W.