Houndsditch

Thank you, Mrs. Fanshaw Other visitors to Inspector Low's office, Scotland Yard, between 12th May and 15th May, 1948.

Bus conductor Simon Norwich of Houndsditch

I was reading in the paper, sir, about this here black trunk the bloke murdered the woman in.

Horrid, ain't it, sir? Well, sir, you know, there was a fella got on my bus at Brixton the afternoon about the 4th of the month.

St. Paul's, for instance, was the acknowledged quarter for booksellers, as indeed it has continued to be down to the present time.

Houndsditch, like the Houndsditch of today and Long Lane in Smithfield, abounded in shops for second-hand clothing.

fripperies as they were called.

"He shows like a walking frippery," says one of the characters in The City's Madam, while it was in the latter place that Mistress Birdlime in Westward Ho! speaks of hiring three liveries.

Never mind, they told each other, and turned to the side shows.

These were all of one character, the arrangement by which you throw something or roll something at something else, and if you hit the something you get a prize, the sort of prize that is sold in Houndsditch at nine pence a gross.

Most of these arrangements are so ordered that to get a prize is impossible.

For instance, a peculiarly offensive row of masks with open mouths in which pipes are set up.

The police were doing nothing of importance.

The woman's poor fragments, put together as skillfully as possible, were lying in the Houndsditch mortuary in a scratched and dirty shell of a coffin often used before.

The mortuary is in a graveyard back of the gloomy old Houndsditch Church, and not a pleasant spot late at night.

While the body was being carried from the scene of the murder, thousands crowded as near as the police would allow, and gazed with lifted caps and pitying faces at the latest victim.

The police did nothing but push the crowd about and be officious.

"Never mind," they told each other, and turned to the sideshows.

These were all of one character, the arrangement by which you throw something or roll something at something else, and if you hit the something, you get a prize, the sort of prize that is sold in Houndsditch at nine pence a gross.

Most of these arrangements are so ordered that to get a prize is impossible.

For instance, a peculiarly offensive row of masks with open mouths in which pipes are set up.