Rain slicked the grimy cobblestones of London’s East End. A gas lamp cast a lonely, flickering orb. Detective Inspector Thomas Mallory shivered, feeling the dampness deep. He adjusted his wool coat, a familiar ritual. The constable's urgent whisper had brought him here. They found the body inside the old tenement. A crowd of silent faces watched them pass. Mallory pushed through, his brow deeply furrowed. The smell of cheap gin and fear hung heavy. His shoes clicked on the worn wooden stairs.