Jack the Ripper

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It was December 1888. The saloon bar of the Coach. We were talking about the
Ripper. Everyone in London was talking about the Ripper.
I was attacked by a sudden wave of nausea. The thought of a bloodthirsty
madman terrorising the streets was horrible, but somehow the thought that
there could be a sane motive for the ripping open and dismembering of
women upon the public streets struck a note deeper and more chilling than
anything I could imagine. Somehow I already began to see darkly what this
must mean.

Source: TheGamesDB