The papers call me "the gentleman killer." I wrapped the throat of my
first victim in the silk scarf with which I strangled her. That's what
passes as a gentleman these days. I ask you: How do you reconcile a man
who is capable of deep, tender love (because I've felt it), a man,
who--by public standards--is a health reformer, assistant to the future
British Prime Minister, and the son-in-law of a wealthy industrialist,
but who, when the moment overtakes him, kills women? I don't know what
to make of it myself, but that's me. I've been told I have a
philosopher's mind, that I'm ambitious and can do anything I set my mind
to--but sometimes my sadomasochistic tendencies get the better of me. I
don't venture judgement--on myself or anyone else. I'll leave that up to
you. My name is Kilcairn, and these are my confessions.