[Chief Rum]

Fueled by fear and anger over all the deaths last night, the mob seems more heavy-handed and suspicious tonight.

Once again, names are thrown out and accusations fly. The littlest difference in word choice and tone moves you from safe in your flat to on the gallows and vice versa.

But there is more consensus today. As the deadline approaches, you are near frothing at the mouth. And the name on your lips is...Lathum!

He bitterly protests his innocence. He points out how he was in an area of Whitechapel that had very little going on. But he can tell mob rule has taken over.

As the sun starts to set, the mob reaches for Lathum to pull him over to the nearest lamppost. But as they reach him, a look in his eye backs them off for a moment.

At this moment, most would feel fear or perhaps anger. But Lathum is utterly calm. Too calm, and too cold. Very little emotion now at all. It is eery.

But the mob gets over this moment and pushes on. They grab Lathum and drag him over to the front of the Bumbrady Inn. He resists little, almost seeming lax.

And that is where the mob makes a grave error. In their haste, they do not search Lathum as well as the should.

For one second, he flashes a sardonic smile, as he is pulled toward the noose. The next second his right hand slashes out, a glint of metal flashing in the dying sunlight. His arm moves in a smooth arc toward his captors, but they are much too surprised to move an inch. Lathum's hand sweeps across the throat of the man to his right, and then he turns to his left.

ntndeacon chokes for a half a second, before stumbling to the ground. Blood is pouring out of his throat, his jugular cut.

The mob jumps on Lathum before he can attack again. Every cutting weapon known to man finds its way into that crowd. Lathum is dead well before they stop stabbing at him, and he is barely recognizable as human anymore.

But some would reason he was never human in the first place. You have killed Jack The Ripper!

But at what cost? ntndeacon quivers one last time, and then he is dead as well. The exhilaration of catching Jack The Ripper overwhelms the crowd, and ntndeacon is but an afterthought.

But a search of his clothes soon reveals how great a loss it was. In his pocket, ntndeacon carried a Scotland Yard badge with the engraved name "Inspector G. Lestrade". A powerful enemy of evil has fallen today.

And evil is not gone from Whitechapel, even if Jack The Ripper is dead. The mob will resume its lynches once again tomorrow--with or without Scotland Yard.

It looks to be a clear night tonight, although the fog may roll in, as it tends to do.

[b]DAY TWO IS OVER. NIGHT TWO HAS BEGUN. NIGHT ACTIONS ARE DUE BY 7 A.M. EST/4 A.M. PDT THURSDAY.