Journal Entry 30 - November 13th, 1888 - 9:35 p.m.
I have made a grave mistake traveling to Mansfield’s Inn. Perhaps this is the consequence of my misplaced sympathy. He was quite pleasant upon my arrival, but his disposition grew more erratic as the night endured. I told him I would retire for the evening, and his smile sluggishly melted. After his troubling silence, I returned to my chamber. Moments later, I heard him whisper something unintelligible through the door before locking it from the outside. I have struggled to force open the door; it is far too sturdy. Although there is a window, there is no way to safely climb down. What does Mr. Mansfield want from me? These words may very well be the final ones I pen.
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