The werewolf turned.
Turner heard the shrill blasts of a police whistle somewhere close by, in the fog.
"Come. Janus. Enough."
The werewolf turned hack to Turner, snarling, eager to finish him off.
"I said enough, Janos! Come!"
Turner was amazed to hear the creature whimper like a dog.
"Come, Janos!"
It shambled off away from him and through the mist. Turner could barely make out the figure of a very large man dressed in a long dark cloak, a high silk hat, and carrying a walking stick. he turned and walked away quickly through the fog, with the creature hunched over, shambling along behind him. Stanley Turner was still holding the knife out in from of him with trembling hands when the police arrived.
"Lord, what a bloody awful mess." said Grayson, looking around the courtyard.
"Bloody's the word, all right." said Constable Wilkes. shaking his head. "I've never seen anything like this in all my life.”
It was still late and the fog was thick, but with the aid of their lanterns, they could see the bodies scattered all around the small courtyard. Blood was everywhere. They could hear the wailing of the women upstairs in their rooms, where members of the Metropolitan police force were trying to take statements from them. Grayson had instructed his men to keep the courtyard clear, not to allow anyone to come down until all the bodies had been removed and to keep everyone away from their windows. He also had a couple of men block off the entrance to the cul-de-sac. Wilkes had been the first to arrive on the scene, within moments after it had happened, and his whistle had summoned several other men on patrol, whom he had immediately directed to keep the neighbors inside.
"You've done well here, Wilkes.” said Grayson, nodding. "You've got the situation well under control. The last thing we needed was to have everyone tramping around down here, acting hysterical."
"Thank you. sir." said Wilkes. "But just the same, I'm glad you're here, sir. I was about at my wit's end. Near as I could make out, one man did all of this. One man! Makes Jack the Ripper look like a bleeding amateur."
"That's enough of that!" said Grayson. "I want no talk about the Ripper, understood? That happened years ago. It's over. Over and done with."
"Right, said Wilkes, indicating the bodies. "Tell them." "Get a hold of yourself, man." said Grayson. "Snap to. There's work to be done.”
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."
"Right. Now where's the bloke who survived?"
"Right over there, sir," Wilkes said, pointing. "Wouldn't let us move him, thinks his back is broken. He's in shock, I think. Keeps saying that a-"
"Who's that with him?" Grayson said suddenly.
A man was crouching down on one knee beside Turner, talking to him.
"Here, you!" shouted Wilkes, rushing forward. He grabbed the man and yanked him to his feet, spinning him around."Who are you?" he said. "How'd you get in here?"
"Dick Larson, The Police Gazette.”
"Oh, bloody hell!" said Grayson. "Who let him through? I'll have his guts for garters! That's all we need, reporters!”
"Come on, you, out!" said Wilkes, grabbing Larson by his coat.
"Just a moment," Grayson said. "How did you get here so fast?"
"I've been investigating the other killing, Inspector." Larson said, "asking questions of people in the pubs hereabouts. I heard all the commotion and I ran to see what was going on."
"Well, we don't need any reporters getting in our way.• said Grayson. "Those damn stories you people have been writing are going to have the entire city in hysterics. I've got a responsibility-"
"In that case, I suggest you listen to me, Inspector," Larson said. "That is, unless you want it to get about that there's somesort of werewolf on the loose."
Grayson grabbed him by the shirtfront. "What did you say?"
"Steady, Inspector," Larson said, gently prying his fingers loose. "I don't want to frighten people needlessly any more than you do. This man's still in shock, but he's starting to come out of it. I managed to get a few words out of him about what happened here tonight. I don't think I'll print what he told me he saw. In fact, I've been trying to convince him that he saw something else, not only for the public good, but for his own good, as well. The poor sod's been through enough without being thrown into a madhouse."