I guessed that what puzzled the New Yorkers would puzzle the Londoners, so I dipped my finger in my own blood and printed it on a convenient place on the wall.

Then I walked down to my cab and found that there was nobody about, and that the night was still very wild.

I had driven some distance when I put my hand into the pocket in which I usually kept Lucy's ring, and found that it was not there.

I was thunderstruck at this, for it was the only memento that I had of her.
Thinking that I might have dropped it when I stooped over Drebber's body, I drove back, and leaving my cab in a side street, I went boldly up to the house--for I was ready to dare anything rather than lose the ring.

When I arrived there, I walked right into the arms of a police-officer who was coming out, and only managed to disarm his suspicions by pretending to be hopelessly drunk.
"That was how Enoch Drebber came to his end.