Vincent went to a sofa and sat down. ‘Something I now think you might be familiar with. Something I’ve been wondering about coming forward about since the murders started. How could I? When you asked me about the impossible at the party, Inspector Quill, I should have told you then, but I knew nothing about you.’ He let out a long breath. ‘I was attacked by Jack the Ripper.’

Sefton found his mind racing. So there was a connection between the Ripper and the scrying glass. That made sense. Whoever was spying on their dreams also seemed to be the one who chose the Ripper’s victims. He stuck his tongue out and tasted the air. He found a metallic taste, a reminder of when he’d smelt the silver goo. It was very faint, but after two and a half years, perhaps it would be.

‘That evening that Maggie describes,’ continued Vincent, ‘I’d been trying to activate the mirror, looking into it, willing it to do something. When something started to appear out of it – this figure, pushing slowly through the glass – I was intrigued, not even very frightened at first, because it moved so slowly. I thought I’d got what I was after, that this was going to be some sort of, I don’t know, supernatural being who’d go and listen in on things for me. As it became more clear what was emerging, I got scared. It was what we’d now call a “Toff” protestor, though nobody had heard of them then, with the mask and the top hat and the cape and … this one had a razor. When that started to appear, that’s when I started to yell. The moment I did, he leaped out of the mirror and attacked me … or he tried to. I thought I was dead the moment he started slashing at me. But for some reason the blows just seemed to cut through my shirt. After just a moment, he seemed to realize that, and fled.’

Sefton was now writing down details himself. What could have stopped the Ripper from killing Vincent? And why such an early murder attempt, then nothing for months after? Maybe it had needed to fix whatever the problem with this killing had been. ‘Which way did it go?’

‘I’m not sure. He just seemed to fly off and vanish, maybe … that way?’ Vincent gestured vaguely towards the window. Sefton went to look, inspected the wall and window closely for any sign of the silver goo associated with a Ripper exit, but there was nothing. Again, a long time had passed. They had no idea if this stuff evaporated. He went back to the mirror, had another look for goo, found none and, with a glance at the others, put the cloth back over it.

They all relaxed a little. Maggie had to lean on a wall.