Murder in Grub Street

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Last night, just past the hour of twelve, loud cries and screams issued from the shop and residence of Ezekiel Crabb, bookseller and publisher in Grub Street. A group of bold fellows assembled without and, led by a constable on his rounds from Bow Street, sought entrance to the establishment.

Forcing the door, they found nothing amiss in the bookshop in front, nor the print shop in the rear, until one with a lantern put it to the floor and noted footprints thick with blood upon the floor. He called out his grisly discovery and, following the tracks back, led them upstairs to the living quarters of the Crabb family. And then what a gruesome sight was there to behold!

Ezekiel Crabb, proprietor, and his good wife were found in their beds: chopped to pieces. Blood was splashed about their bedroom most carelessly. The sheets and blankets of their bed, from which they had no opportunity to rise, were soaked in red. Mr. Crabb’s arm was separated from his body. Mrs. Crabb’s head was cleaved in two.

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