"If I can't be with my beloved painting career, I will be very painful."

Sigurd, who was sitting opposite Lu Li, didn't look like a sick person at all. He was clean shaven and his clothes were neat, except for his strange walking posture.

At this moment, art seemed to make him forget his illness. Under the gazes of Lu Li and George, he stood up and his voice gradually became louder, as if he was making a pilgrimage to the void.

"hiss……"

Suddenly, Sigurd covered his crotch, his expression was extremely painful, and his face turned red. Lu Li, who had learned acting, felt that in a hurry, if someone could pretend to be like this, he could go directly to receive the Oscar statuette.

"Are you feeling uncomfortable somewhere? I can help you contact the doctor."

Therefore, Lu Li didn't care about anything else and hurried forward to help him.

At this moment, Sigel's spasmodic fingers kept rummaging through his pockets. Finally, he remembered something and raised his hand to point to a drawing board.

"The medicine is over there...help...help..."

Next to the wooden board, there is a paint rack. In addition to several jars, there is also a brown glass bottle.

Seeing this, George immediately put down the pen and paper and rushed over to get it.

Before the questioning even started, the suspect became like this. The whole process was outrageous.

"What the hell is this? It won't cause any trouble if you eat it, right?"

After a few seconds, Mr. Lasker frowned.

When Lu Li took the medicine bottle, he glanced at the label on the bottle: [Salicylic Acid]

In this era, few people understand this thing except professionals in the medical industry.

However, coming from a later generation, he had heard that his chemistry teacher had popularized this ancient medicine:

In the early 19th century, people extracted salicylic acid from the leaves of the plant. Although it has analgesic and antipyretic effects, it has a strong corrosive effect on the esophagus and stomach.

Generally speaking, only those with severe pain will take it.

To put it simply, it means using pain to stop pain.

"It's causing trouble for you two."

After pouring the liquid into his mouth, Sigurd collapsed on the seat, let out a long breath, and seemed to have recovered.

"Do you need to contact a doctor to come and have a look? I have a friend who is a professor of medicine at King's College. He may be able to help you."

Lu Li made up his mind, whether this guy was really sick or not, he was going to find out something tonight.

I! A famous detective! I don’t deserve any feelings!

"Sorry to trouble you, it's just a minor problem and it won't hinder anything."

Sigurd waved his hand and was unwilling to say anything.

After tonight, there are only two days left, and there is no time to waste.

Thinking of this, Lu Li leaned into George's ear and whispered a few words: "Hurry up and send the coachman to find Duke and ask him to come here. This kind of thing cannot be delayed."

"Well, don't be polite to him at this time. If you have any questions, ask him immediately. I'll be back in a moment."

After saying this, George pulled out the revolver, pressed down the hammer, and put it in a ready-to-fire state. Then he handed it to Lu Li openly and turned around to leave.

"You suspect that I am the murderer."

"In fact, no one can prove where I have been in the past two days."

Sigurd stated the facts, with his white lips and temples soaked in cold sweat, making people feel unbearable.

However, those blue eyes are as elusive as his secret heart.

"Yes, the suspect is Mr. Sickert."

After saying that, Lu Li put away the gun and still held the cane. He thought that this thing was enough for self-defense and could knock people down in one go.

Of course, there is also a hint of hypocrisy.

In silence.

"Why do you doubt me? The police said Jack the Ripper was a refugee, and three witnesses confirmed this statement."

Suddenly, Sigurd pointed to the newspaper used to wrap the paint box in the corner. The date clearly read:

August 9, 1888!

"Every day, the newsboy would stuff the latest copy of The Times into the window, even if I wasn't in London."

Sigur stood up and glanced at Lu Li's waist with melancholy eyes, where the gun was hanging.

"Martha, the first victim, had nine pounds in her purse, all in gold coins."

"It turns out that the money was left by the real murderer. If the murderer was an Eastern European refugee, he would not ignore the money. Locusts are greedy by nature."

"Mr. Painter."

Turning his head and glancing at the wall clock, Lu Li said directly: "It's my turn to ask you, is "Murder in an Unnamed Town" your painting."

"Yes, they were recently displayed in the gallery. Have you visited them?"

"What's more, Mr. Lasker paid for them and they are currently in his briefcase."

After finishing speaking, Lu Li found that Sigurd's face was still expressionless, like a dead person.

"Can you tell me about your mother? I know that she is an Englishman, which makes you have some feelings for this country. Every year, no matter how busy you are, you always take time to come to London to live for a while."

"You know, art is in Paris, not in the foggy city. Apart from acid rain and thick fog, it's hard to see the sun here."

At this time, Sigurd turned away, snoring and said, "I don't want to talk about privacy, can you leave?"

"certainly."

"However, have you decided how to deal with Mr. Lasker? I am willing to leave temporarily to give you time to think, but he will not leave so easily. Scotland Yard is incompetent, but it does not mean that the military..."

Although Lu Li didn't finish what he said, Sigurd still understood what he meant, gave out a gentle smile, and said softly: "Come upstairs with me. There are my most authentic paintings there, as well as the things you want to know."

At this time, a woman's scream came from the door, followed closely by the voices of Linnaeus and Mr. Lasker.

Draw the gun, press the hammer, and tap the trigger.

"That should be a special model. We made an appointment last Wednesday to meet at the apartment at nine o'clock tonight."

Facing Lu Li, who suddenly became vigilant, Sigurd explained: "Women's youth is too short. Wrinkles begin to appear after the age of thirty. If they don't record their most beautiful stages with a brush, what will they use to remember them when they are old?

Woolen cloth?"

"Um."

Lu Li couldn't comment, staring at Sigurd holding the gun while waiting for Mr. Lasker to come in.

Soon, a short woman walked into the living room. Frankly speaking, she didn't look like a model. Long-term malnutrition had left her hair dry and her cheeks sunken. She looked like a refugee who had just settled.

"Mr. Lu Li, this woman claims that she is a wanderer and was invited by Sigurd to serve as a model. The reward is five pounds."

George Lasker leaned over and whispered something.

"You go upstairs first, I have something to talk to the two gentlemen." Sigurd shrugged and smiled at the woman very gentlemanly.

Twenty years ago, a little boy was tied to an iron bed and obeyed all the doctors' orders. He endured the pain caused by acupuncture, scraping, and tearing. The doctor forcibly separated his thighs and restrained him like a castrate.
Chapter completed!