Doctor Pendergrass loved London, but the city had a dark side.
Its prosperity attracted criminals from all over the world. Their handiwork - stabbings, beatings, and maimings - filled as many hospital beds as cholera and dysentery.
As crime spiraled out of control, a serial killer stalked London looking for his next victim.
Pendergrass and his associates at Saint Bartholomew’s Hospital were working grueling days, but no matter how hard they worked the flow of brutalized Londoners through their front doors was endless. He pondered the problem often, almost daily, as he read his morning paper. There is a mean element at work in our beloved London. An element that knows no bounds and is unfettered by decency. Left unchecked, it will be the ruin of us all.
The situation seemed to be getting worse, in spite of Howard Vincent’s appointment as Scotland Yard’s Director of Criminal Investigations. If 10,000 bobbies couldn’t stop the crime wave, what could be done?
Doctor Pendergrass was seething mad. He had no idea what Scotland Yard was going to do, but he knew exactly what he intended to do.
