Warren arrives at the Whitechapel Police Station late in the day; his 'discussion' with Superintendent Sugden took longer than expected and receiving the unexpected package from T.R. Namron...a strange sense of humor, that was not lost on Warren. (T (The) R (Ripper) Namron (Norman) has to be.)
Not knowing what to expect, Warren finds an empty office and shuts the door. Carefully, he cuts the string and lifts the lid. Half expecting some rotting flesh or organs, he holds his breath, but it was not organic. In fact, the object was small, metal, and had moving parts; like a clock or timer. Something seemed familiar about it's design and the dials...what a minute...this looks like Jack's strange apparatus. Turning it over, Warren sees that it could fit over or to something. Why would Norman send this to him? Checking the wrapping, still inside the box, maybe there is another piece to complete the component. All he found was a note addressed to...Jack! Marked urgent. Hesitating for a moment, he opens the note, only to discover it's written in a language he doesn't recognize. Concealing both items, inside his coat, he makes his way to the cells. Feeling a strange emptiness in his guts, he enters the cell block room with trepidation.
Hey, Inspector, come to visit Jackson...again? Yes, I need to interrogate him; I've just come from the Superintendent and he wants answers. Yeah, I bet he does. A smirk from the Constable makes Warren set his jaw in annoyance. Doc was here earlier and says Jackson will be fine in a couple of days. Seems like a waste of time to me; guys guilty and 'll probably hang for it. Warren's face clouds with anger at the Constable's attitude and comments. Give me the key to cell 8 Constable, Warrens tone is cutting and authoritative, I have work to do. The Constable, realizing he has over stepped the mark, meekly hands the key to Warren. Yes, Inspector.
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