In these places, I say, he would walke vp & down.

 

His new form caught his fancy, and agreed with his nature. Stubbe Peeter lusted for blood and cruelty, and so was well satisfied with this most strange and devilish gift; afterall, the girdle was no great burden, and could be put on quietly in any small room, from which he would emerge to commit the most vile, heinous murder. 

If any displeased him, he would nurse the hurt until broke as a thirst for revenge; they would be about their business in the fields or streets when he'd be on them like a wolf, and run them down to worry at their throats and tear them asunder, joint from joint. He acquired the taste, and delighted so in the shedding of blood that he would stalk the fields, day and night, for the chance to work some cruelty. 

Often, he'd stroll the streets of Cologne, Bedburg and Quadrath, well-dressed and civil, like one known to all, passing the time of day with those whose children he'd butchered, friends slain, and nobody suspected a thing. He'd walk about, and should any maiden, goodwife or child catch his eye and kindle his lust, he'd follow them when they left town and when he had them alone, would ravish and wolfishly murder them. 

Sometimes, when he wandered along the hedges, he'd come across a company of maidens at play, or milkmaids working their pail. He'd assume his wolfish guise and burst among them, laying hold of one as the others scattered and ran, slaking his filthy lust, then rending her. If he recognised any who had taken his fancy, he'd make for them, whether they led the flight or trailed behind, so swift he was on his wolven paws, so fast he'd outpace the any greyhound in that land you'd care to slip against him. 

So the entire province lived in fear of this blood-soaked, devouring wolf, and over the course of a few years, Stubbe Peeter took thirteen young children, and two women great with child, whose children he tore from the womb. He'd devour their still beating hearts, and think it dainty. 

Notes. 

With the benefit of more than a century of formal criminology, this account of Peter Stump's modus rings true. He identifies a victim, observes her, and follows her until they reach some lonely place where he launches a blitz attack. The resemblance to Peter Sutcliffe, for example, is chilling.

'and could be put on quietly in any small room'. Though he appears to have generally struck when the opportunity presented itself; the sense is of him presenting a man-about-town demeaner, all the while carrying his girdle rolled in a pocket or bag. When the time came, he would strip, carefully perhaps given his presentable appearance, and wrap the girdle around himself, transforming the moment fur touched skin and then breaking from the trees or hedges, a naked man wound in a wolfskin. 

'If any displeased him'. You could read this as a process of escalation. First, he acts on grudges, loosing his fury on the people he knew, or came across during his day. In time, though, he starts to wander further afar as his fantasy develops, and he gains confidence. As he begins to feel he can act with impunity, he becomes bolder. 

'passing the time of day with those whose children he'd butchered'. Again, this is a very authentic note. Serial sexual murderers are known to relive their crimes by keeping momentoes, revisitng the ground and interacting with their victim's family and friends. It's the late night telephone call with nobody on the other end, or his joining the search, beating the bushes with the police. 

'when he had them alone, would ravish and wolfishly murder them.' According to the source text:

'and if he could spye either Maide, Wife or childe, that his eyes liked or his hart lusted after, he would waite their issuing out of ye Cittie or town, if he could by any meanes get them alone, he would in the feeldes rauishe them, and after in his Wooluish likenes cruelly murder them.'

Depictions of Peter Stump tend to show him as an inflamed tramp, someone obviously inhabiting the margins of society. However, this account tells of someone who not only passes for normal, but functions socially to a high degree; he understands how to present himself plausibly, and is comfortable interacting with strangers. All the time, however, the wheels in his mind are turning.

He is also not out of control, despite the savagery of his attacks; he chooses the time and place, and seemingly doesn't take unnecessary risks. He carries what he needs around with him, and is patient. He is organised, methodical.

If you met Peter Stump, you'd probably quite like him. But as Angela Carter tells us:

Little girls, this seems to say,

Never stop upon your way,

Never trust a stranger, friend;

No-one knows how it will end.

As you’re pretty, so be wise,

Wolves may lurk in every guise;

Now as then, ’tis simple truth:

Sweetest tongue has sharpest tooth.