It was a chilly winter evening on the 20th of February 1838, as the All-Sop family were

just getting ready for bed. The elderly Mr and Mrs All-Sop lived with their three daughters

on Bearbinder Lane in Old Ford, a small village clustered around the River Lee on the

northeast outskirts of London. A man of above average means Mr All-Sop's family cottage

was larger than most in Old Ford, protected by a high wall and front gate which was locked

every night. Berglades were not uncommon in the area and footpads, highway robbers that

operated on foot, sometimes lurked on the quiet country lanes after dark, ready to pounce

on unsuspecting travellers. With the notion of a professional police force, only a fledgling

idea at the time, country dwellers tended to stay at home after nightfall. Nights in the

main were reassuringly quiet, save for the occasional hooting of an owl or scream of a fox,

so it startled the whole family when the bell on their front gate began to jangle violently,

just after a quarter to nine. Inside the cottage, 18-year-old Jane All-Sop looked

uncertainly at her parents and two sisters. Sarah, the oldest, busy looking after their parents,

insisted the Jane take care of it. Jane waited for a moment in the ensuing silence,

hoping the caller might leave them alone. Then the bell rang out again, even louder this time.

Throwing a shawl around her shoulders, Jane unbolted the door and stepped out into the misty

night. From there, she could just make out the figure of a tall man, standing outside their

front gate in the lane. As she drew closer to him, she could see he was enveloped in a large

cloak and wearing what appeared to be some sort of headgear. The man was exceptionally tall.

Jane looked back to the cottage and then back to the man.

Can I help you, she asked?

I'm a policeman, said the man, tersely. For God's sake, bring me a light with court

...