On the morning of the letter's arrival I was preparing to go on a short holiday. I had decided to spend three nights in a budget hotel in Bethnal Green. I had arrived without hitch despite the fact that a railway bridge had collapsed outside LIverpool street the previous night. The hotel seemed modern and clean and I sat in the lobby waiting to be shown to my room. A woman arrived took the key and beckoned me to follow. We left the hotel by the front door and walked down the road to a dilapidated terraced house. My guide opened the front door with a hefty kick lead me down a dingy corridor, pointed down some stairs into the basement and left (rather hurriedly I thought). There was a large bloodstain on the headboard.
