GODS OF RIVERWORLD by Philip Jose Farmer

He decided, and he said, “First, you should know each other.”

“That’s not needed, dearie, for Annie and me!” Kelly said. “We have long been friends. And Liz and I are old friends.”

“Even so,” Burton said, grinning, “it’s only polite, and the men should make your acquaintance.”

He paused—oh, how he enjoyed this!—and he said, “Elizabeth Stride, Mary Jane Kelly, and Annie Elizabeth Crook, meet Sir William Gull and John Netley!”

What followed was all he had hoped for. Gull paled, and the edge of his goblet, just touching his lip, failed to dip. He never did get to finish his drink. Netley also paled, and, after a moment of rigidity, he leaped up and backed away, his eyes fixed on the women.

Annie rose quickly from her chair and said, “Now I know you! You!” She pointed a shaking finger at Gull, “You’re the crooked doctor that said I was crazy! And you,” she moved the finger to spear Netley, “you took my Eddy away when the police came.”

“He also tried to kill your daughter twice,” Burton said. “And, Mrs. Stride and Mrs. Kelly, this man,” he indicated Gull, “is the man who killed you. With the help of that man.”

“God help me,” Gull said, getting down on his knees. “God help me and forgive me as I hope that you will.”

“That was a long time ago,” Netley said, snarling. “What difference does it make now? You’re all alive and well now, right, so what real harm was done?”

“The thing is,” Burton said, “Stride and Kelly know that you killed them, but during their many years on The River, they never ran across anyone who spoke about the Jack the Ripper murders. So they—”

“He!” Kelly said, pointing at Gull. “He’s Jack the Ripper?”

“There is no such, that is, Jack was not one but three men working together. However, he, Gull, wrote the letters that made the name famous, and he masterminded the entire business. What you, Kelly, don’t know is what he did to you after he killed you. You remember, Kelly, how Catherine Eddowes was mutilated? That was nothing compared to the butchery Gull did on you. Shall I describe it?”

Gull rose to his feet and cried, “No! No! Even now, though I’ve made my peace with God, I can’t forget what I did!”

“What about me?” Stride said. “What happened to me?”

“Your throat was cut, that’s all. Gull didn’t have time to carry out his ritual on you.”

“That’s all!” Stride screeched. “That’s all! Isn’t that enough!”

Screaming, she ran at Gull with her hands out, fingers curled.

He did not run, though he flinched when she sank her fingernails into his face. Netley had stepped forward as if to help Gull, then he moved away after a slight hesitation.

Burton pulled the screaming woman away. Gull felt his bleeding cheeks but said nothing.

“I’d like to cut his guts out and hold them up before his dying eyes,” Kelly said. She went to Stride, put her arms around her shoulders, and led the sobbing woman away.

“That’s enough of drama, retribution and reproach,” Burton said. “What you do after you’re on your own is your business, unless it involves those outside this matter. For the time being, you will behave decently and listen carefully to me. You need an education, and though it inconveniences me to instruct you, I must do so. I can’t just leave you to find things out for yourself.”

First, he had them describe their appearance in the converter. It had taken place in the huge cube in a corner of this very room. They had awakened from death in the converter, and, after a few moments of confusion, had opened the door and gone into this room. They had explored the other rooms, then gone into the corridor. And Burton had come around the corner in his flying chair.

“Then you saw no one else?” he said.

They replied that they had not.

Burton took Gull into the bathroom of the next room and found, as he had expected, a bottle with a liquid to apply to the scratches on his face. This stopped the bleeding and would, within twenty-four hours, heal the wounds.