At 8:30 that night, a woman sat in a heap against a wall at 29 Aldgate High Street, paralytic from drink. She babbled and sang and cursed, drawing the inevitable gawkers, some staring with amusement, others with genuine concern. This was hardly an unusual sight in Whitechapel. A passing police constable, Louis Frederick Robinson, seeing the crowd, decided to investigate. He found, at the center of it, a pitiful figure, with a bonnet of black velvet and straw tied to her drooping head. She reeked of alcohol.
