The Express had less detail about the murder, but, probably to compensate for dearth of knowledge, Swallow reckoned, reminded its readers in the first paragraph that this was the third assault on women in the city in little more than a week.

It will be recalled that on Friday night November 2nd last, Miss Alice Flannery, a waitress, was attacked near her home at Blackberry Lane, Rathmines, and sustained injuries which claimed her life some hours later.

On Friday night, Miss Deborah Dunne, a fishmonger, was attacked near Cardiff Lane on Misery Hill. Although she was badly injured and remains gravely ill in hospital it does not appear that her life is in danger.

These outrages confirm that the streets of Dublin are no safer than those of London where the so-called ‘Jack the Ripper’ cases, the latest also on Friday, have spread widespread terror among the populace.

It does not appear that the Dublin Metropolitan Police is any more effective in keeping the streets of the Hibernian capital safe than are their counterparts in London. Nor is the G-Division at Exchange Court, Dublin Castle, any more successful in detecting the perpetrator or perpetrators of these outrages than their vaunted detective colleagues at New Scotland Yard.

There would be a lot more of the same in the newspapers over coming days, Swallow knew. One murder in Dublin was a news story. Two and an attempted third within a week were sensational, particularly with the East End of London in terror over the Whitechapel murders.

When the train arrived at the Westland Row terminus they had taken a cab that dropped Swallow at the Castle before bringing Maria home to Thomas Street. The city was quiet with few pedestrians other than those going to or coming from Sunday morning religious services. The bells of Christ Church started to toll the hour of ten o’clock as the cab halted outside Exchange Court.

‘You’re rightly in time for the conference,’ the duty man at the public office told him. ‘Commissioner Harrel and Chief Mallon are just gone in.’

Swallow tried to remember when last he had seen the commissioner attend a crime conference at Exchange Court.

The parade room was full. Every seat was occupied. G-men sat on desks and in window alcoves while uniformed constables lined the walls. The air was heavy with the smell of sweat and tobacco and tired men. Mallon took the rostrum at the end of the room, flanked by Commissioner Harrel in full uniform. The chief’s face showed strain and tension. And Harrel seemed impatient, tapping his right hand repeatedly on his knee. The divisional superintendents, A to F, sat in the front row before the rostrum. ‘Duck’ Boyle, red-eyed and bleary from the night before, looked as if he might slip from his chair.