Title: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Author: Robert Louis Stevenson

Posting Date: December 18, 2011 [EBook #42]Release Date: October, 1992Last Updated: July 1, 2005

Language: English

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE ***

[Editor's Note: It has been called to our attention that Project Gutenberg ebook #43 which is the same title as this, is much easier to read than file #42 which you have presently opened.]

STRANGE CASE OF DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

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STORY OF THE DOOR

MR. UTTERSON the lawyer was a man of a rugged countenance, that wasnever lighted by a smile; cold, scanty and embarrassed indiscourse; backward in sentiment; lean, long, dusty, dreary, andyet somehow lovable. At friendly meetings, and when the wine was to

his taste, something eminently human beaconed from his eye;something indeed which never found its way into his talk, but whichspoke not only in these silent symbols of the after-dinner face, butmore often and loudly in the acts of his life. He was austere withhimself; drank gin when he was alone, to mortify a taste forvintages; and though he enjoyed the theatre, had not crossed thedoors of one for twenty years. But he had an approved tolerance forothers; sometimes wondering, almost with envy, at the high pressureof spirits involved in their misdeeds; and in any extremity inclinedto help rather than to reprove.

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"I incline to Cain's heresy," he used to say quaintly: "I let mybrother go to the devil in his own way." In this character, it wasfrequently his fortune to be the last reputable acquaintance and thelast good influence in the lives of down-going men. And to such asthese, so long as they came about his chambers, he never marked ashade of change in his demeanour.

No doubt the feat was easy to Mr. Utterson; for he wasundemonstrative at the best, and even his friendship seemed to befounded in a similar catholicity of good-nature. It is the mark of amodest man to accept his friendly circle ready-made from the handsof opportunity; and that was the lawyer's way. His friends werethose of his own blood or those whom he had known the longest; hisaffections, like ivy, were the growth of time, they implied noaptness in the object. Hence, no doubt, the bond that united him toMr. Richard Enfield, his distant kinsman, the well-known man abouttown. It was a nut to crack for many, what these two could see ineach other, or what subject they could find in common. It wasreported by those who encountered them in their Sunday walks, that

they said nothing, looked singularly dull, and would hail withobvious relief the appearance of a friend. For all that, the two menput the greatest store by these excursions, counted them the chiefjewel of each week, and not only set aside occasions of pleasure,but even resisted the calls

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of business, that they might enjoy them uninterrupted.

It chanced on one of these rambles that their way led them down aby-street in a busy quarter of London. The street was small andwhat is called quiet, but it drove a thriving trade on theweek-days. The inhabitants were all doing well, it seemed, and allemulously hoping to do better still, and laying out the surplus oftheir gains in coquetry; so that the shop fronts stood along thatthoroughfare with an air of invitation, like rows of smilingsaleswomen. Even on Sunday, when it veiled its more florid charmsand lay comparatively empty of passage, the street shone out incontrast to its dingy neighbourhood, like a fire in a forest; andwith its freshly painted shutters, well-polished brasses, andgeneral cleanliness and gaiety of note, instantly caught and pleasedthe eye of the passenger.

Two doors from one corner, on the left hand going east, the linewas broken by the entry of a court; and just at that point, acertain sinister block of building thrust forward its gable on thestreet. It was two stories high; showed no window, nothing but adoor on the lower story and a blind forehead of discoloured wall onthe upper; and bore in every feature, the marks of prolonged andsordid negligence. The door, which was equipped with neither bellnor knocker, was blistered and distained. Tramps slouched into therecess and struck matches on

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the panels; children kept shop upon the steps; the schoolboy hadtried his knife on the mouldings; and for close on a generation, no

one had appeared to drive away these random visitors or to repairtheir ravages.

Mr. Enfield and the lawyer were on the other side of the by-street;but when they came abreast of the entry, the former lifted up hiscane and pointed.

"Did you ever remark that door?" he asked; and when his companionhad replied in the affirmative, "It is connected in my mind," addedhe, "with a very odd story."

"Indeed?" said Mr. Utterson, with a slight change of voice, "andwhat was that?"

"Well, it was this way," returned Mr. Enfield: "I was coming homefrom some place at the end of the world, about three o'clock of ablack winter morning, and my way lay through a part of town wherethere was literally nothing to be seen but lamps. Street afterstreet, and all the folks asleep--street after street, all lightedup as if for a procession and all as empty as a church--till atlast I got into that state of mind when a man listens and listensand begins to long for the sight of a policeman. All at once, I sawtwo figures: one a little man who was stumping along eastward at agood walk, and the other a girl of maybe eight or ten who wasrunning as hard as she was able down a cross street. Well, sir, thetwo ran into one another naturally enough at the

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corner; and then came the horrible part of the thing; for the mantrampled calmly over the child's body and left her screaming onthe ground. It sounds nothing to hear, but it was hellish to see.It wasn't like a man; it was like some damned Juggernaut. I gave aview-halloa, took to my heels, collared my gentleman, and broughthim back to where there was already quite a group about thescreaming child. He was perfectly cool and made no resistance, butgave me one look, so ugly that it brought out the sweat on me like

running. The people who had turned out were the girl's own family;and pretty soon, the doctor, for whom she had been sent, put in hisappearance. Well, the child was not much the worse, more frightened,according to the Sawbones; and there you might have supposed wouldbe an end to it. But there was one curious circumstance. I had takena loathing to my gentleman at first sight. So had the child'sfamily, which was only natural. But the doctor's case was whatstruck me. He was the usual cut-and-dry apothecary, of no particularage and colour, with a strong Edinburgh accent, and about asemotional as a bagpipe. Well, sir, he was like the rest of us; everytime he looked at my prisoner, I saw that Sawbones turn sick andwhite with the desire to kill him. I knew what was in his mind, justas he knew what was in mine; and killing being out of the question,we did the next best. We told the man we could

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and would make such a scandal out of this, as should make his namestink from one end of London to the other. If he had any friends orany credit, we undertook that he should lose them. And all the time,as we were pitching it in red hot, we were keeping the women off himas best we could, for they were as wild as harpies. I never saw acircle of such hateful faces; and there was the man in the middle,with a kind of black, sneering coolness--frightened too, I couldsee that--but carrying it off, sir, really like Satan. 'If youchoose to make capital out of this accident,' said he, 'I amnaturally helpless. No gentleman but wishes to avoid a scene,' sayshe. 'Name your figure.' Well, we screwed him up to a hundred poundsfor the child's family; he would have clearly liked to stick out;but there was something about the lot of us that meant mischief, and

at last he struck. The next thing was to get the money; and wheredo you think he carried us but to that place with the door?--whipped out a key, went in, and presently came back with the matterof ten pounds in gold and a cheque for the balance on Coutts's,drawn payable to bearer and signed with a name that I can't mention,though it's one of the points of my story, but it was a name atleast very well known and often printed. The figure was stiff; butthe signature was good for more than that, if it was only genuine. Itook the liberty of pointing out to my gentleman that the whole

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business looked apocryphal, and that a man does not, in real life,walk into a cellar door at four in the morning and come out of itwith another man's cheque for close upon a hundred pounds. But hewas quite easy and sneering. 'Set your mind at rest,' says he, 'Iwill stay with you till the banks open and cash the cheque myself.'So we all set off, the doctor, and the child's father, and ourfriend and myself, and passed the rest of the night in my chambers;and next day, when we had breakfasted, went in a body to the bank. Igave in the check myself, and said I had every reason to believe itwas a forgery. Not a bit of it. The cheque was genuine."

"Tut-tut," said Mr. Utterson.

"I see you feel as I do," said Mr. Enfield. "Yes, it's a bad story.For my man was a fellow that nobody could have to do with, a reallydamnable man; and the person that drew the cheque is the very pinkof the proprieties, celebrated too, and (what makes it worse) one ofyour fellows who do what they call good. Black-mail, I suppose; anhonest man paying through the nose for some of the capers of hisyouth. Black-Mail House is what I call that place with the door, in

consequence. Though even that, you know, is far from explainingall," he added, and with the words fell into a vein of musing.

From this he was recalled by Mr. Utterson asking rather suddenly:"And you don't know if the drawer of the cheque lives there?"

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"A likely place, isn't it?" returned Mr. Enfield. "But I happen tohave noticed his address; he lives in some square or other."

"And you never asked about the--place with the door?" said Mr.Utterson.

"No, sir: I had a delicacy," was the reply. "I feel very stronglyabout putting questions; it partakes too much of the style of theday of judgment. You start a question, and it's like starting astone. You sit quietly on the top of a hill; and away the stonegoes, starting others; and presently some bland old bird (the lastyou would have thought of) is knocked on the head in his ownback-garden and the family have to change their name. No, sir, Imake it a rule of mine: the more it looks like Queer Street, theless I ask."

"A very good rule, too," said the lawyer.

"But I have studied the place for myself," continued Mr. Enfield."It seems scarcely a house. There is no other door, and nobody goesin or out of that one but, once in a great while, the gentleman ofmy adventure. There are three windows looking on the court on thefirst floor; none below; the windows are always shut but they'reclean. And then there is a chimney which is generally smoking; sosomebody must live there. And yet it's not so sure; for thebuildings are so packed together about that court, that it's hard tosay where one ends and another begins."

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The pair walked on again for a while in silence; and then,"Enfield," said Mr. Utterson, "that's a good rule of yours."

"Yes, I think it is," returned Enfield.

"But for all that," continued the lawyer, "there's one point I wantto ask: I want to ask the name of that man who walked over thechild."

"Well," said Mr. Enfield, "I can't see what harm it would do. Itwas a man of the name of Hyde."

"H'm," said Mr. Utterson. "What sort of a man is he to see?"

"He is not easy to describe. There is something wrong with hisappearance; something displeasing, something downright detestable. Inever saw a man I so disliked, and yet I scarce know why. He must bedeformed somewhere; he gives a strong feeling of deformity, althoughI couldn't specify the point. He's an extraordinary-looking man, andyet I really can name nothing out of the way. No, sir; I can make nohand of it; I can't describe him. And it's not want of memory; for Ideclare I can see him this moment."

Mr. Utterson again walked some way in silence and obviously under aweight of consideration.

"You are sure he used a key?" he inquired at last.

"My dear sir..." began Enfield, surprised out of himself.

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"Yes, I know," said Utterson; "I know it must seem strange. Thefact is, if I do not ask you the name of the other party, it isbecause I know it already. You see, Richard, your tale has gonehome. If you have been inexact in any point, you had better correctit."

"I think you might have warned me," returned the other, with atouch of sullenness. "But I have been pedantically exact, as youcall it. The fellow had a key; and what's more, he has it still. I

saw him use it, not a week ago."

Mr. Utterson sighed deeply but said never a word; and the young manpresently resumed. "Here is another lesson to say nothing," said he."I am ashamed of my long tongue. Let us make a bargain never torefer to this again."

"With all my heart," said the lawyer. "I shake hands on that,Richard."

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SEARCH FOR MR. HYDE

THAT evening Mr. Utterson came home to his bachelor house in sombrespirits and sat down to dinner without relish. It was his custom ofa Sunday, when this meal was over, to sit close by the fire, avolume of some dry divinity on his reading-desk, until the clock ofthe neighbouring church rang out the hour of twelve, when he wouldgo soberly and gratefully to bed. On this night, however, as soon asthe cloth was taken away, he took up a candle and went into hisbusiness-room. There he opened his safe, took from the most privatepart of it a document endorsed on the envelope as Dr. Jekyll's Will,and sat down with a clouded brow to study its contents. The will washolograph, for Mr. Utterson, though he took charge of it now that itwas made, had refused to lend the least assistance in the making ofit; it provided not only that, in case of the decease of HenryJekyll, M.D., D.C.L., L.L.D., F.R.S., etc., all his possessions wereto pass into the hands of his "friend and benefactor Edward Hyde,"but that in case of

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Dr. Jekyll's "disappearance or unexplained absence for any periodexceeding three calendar months," the said Edward Hyde should stepinto the said Henry Jekyll's shoes without further delay and freefrom any burthen or obligation, beyond the payment of a few smallsums to the members of the doctor's household. This document hadlong been the lawyer's eyesore. It offended him both as a lawyer andas a lover of the sane and customary sides of life, to whom thefanciful was the immodest. And hitherto it was his ignorance of Mr.Hyde that had swelled his indignation; now, by a sudden turn, it washis knowledge. It was already bad enough when the name was but aname of which he could learn no more. It was worse when it began tobe clothed upon with detestable attributes; and out of the shifting,insubstantial mists that had so long baffled his eye, there leapedup the sudden, definite presentment of a fiend.

"I thought it was madness," he said, as he replaced the obnoxiouspaper in the safe, "and now I begin to fear it is disgrace."

With that he blew out his candle, put on a great-coat, and setforth in the direction of Cavendish Square, that citadel ofmedicine, where his friend, the great Dr. Lanyon, had his house andreceived his crowding patients. "If any one knows, it will beLanyon," he had thought.

The solemn butler knew and welcomed him;

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he was subjected to no stage of delay, but ushered direct from thedoor to the dining-room where Dr. Lanyon sat alone over his wine.This was a hearty, healthy, dapper, red-faced gentleman, with ashock of hair prematurely white, and a boisterous and decidedmanner. At sight of Mr. Utterson, he sprang up from his chair andwelcomed him with both hands. The geniality, as was the way of theman, was somewhat theatrical to the eye; but it reposed on genuine

feeling. For these two were old friends, old mates both at schooland college, both thorough respecters of themselves and of eachother, and, what does not always follow, men who thoroughly enjoyedeach other's company.

After a little rambling talk, the lawyer led up to the subjectwhich so disagreeably pre-occupied his mind.

"I suppose, Lanyon," said he "you and I must be the two oldestfriends that Henry Jekyll has?"

"I wish the friends were younger," chuckled Dr. Lanyon. "But Isuppose we are. And what of that? I see little of him now."

"Indeed?" said Utterson. "I thought you had a bond of commoninterest."

"We had," was the reply. "But it is more than ten years since HenryJekyll became too fanciful for me. He began to go wrong, wrong inmind; and though of course I continue to take an interest in him forold sake's sake, as they say,

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I see and I have seen devilish little of the man. Such unscientificbalderdash," added the doctor, flushing suddenly purple, "would haveestranged Damon and Pythias."

This little spirit of temper was somewhat of a relief to Mr.Utterson. "They have only differed on some point of science," hethought; and being a man of no scientific passions (except in thematter of conveyancing), he even added: "It is nothing worse thanthat!" He gave his friend a few seconds to recover his composure,and then approached the question he had come to put. "Did you evercome across a protege of his--one Hyde?" he asked.

"Hyde?" repeated Lanyon. "No. Never heard of him. Since my time."

That was the amount of information that the lawyer carried backwith him to the great, dark bed on which he tossed to and fro,

until the small hours of the morning began to grow large. It was anight of little ease to his toiling mind, toiling in mere darknessand besieged by questions.

Six o'clock struck on the bells of the church that was soconveniently near to Mr. Utterson's dwelling, and still he wasdigging at the problem. Hitherto it had touched him on theintellectual side alone; but now his imagination also was engaged,or rather enslaved; and as he lay and tossed in the gross darknessof the night and the curtained room, Mr. Enfield's tale went by

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before his mind in a scroll of lighted pictures. He would be awareof the great field of lamps of a nocturnal city; then of the figureof a man walking swiftly; then of a child running from the doctor's;and then these met, and that human Juggernaut trod the child downand passed on regardless of her screams. Or else he would see a roomin a rich house, where his friend lay asleep, dreaming and smilingat his dreams; and then the door of that room would be opened, thecurtains of the bed plucked apart, the sleeper recalled, and lo!there would stand by his side a figure to whom power was given, andeven at that dead hour, he must rise and do its bidding. The figurein these two phases haunted the lawyer all night; and if at any timehe dozed over, it was but to see it glide more stealthily throughsleeping houses, or move the more swiftly and still the moreswiftly, even to dizziness, through wider labyrinths of lamplightedcity, and at every street-corner crush a child and leave herscreaming. And still the figure had no face by which he might knowit; even in his dreams, it had no face, or one that baffled him andmelted before his eyes; and thus it was that there sprang up and

grew apace in the lawyer's mind a singularly strong, almost aninordinate, curiosity to behold the features of the real Mr. Hyde.If he could but once set eyes on him, he thought the mystery wouldlighten and perhaps roll altogether away, as was the habit ofmysterious

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things when well examined. He might see a reason for his friend'sstrange preference or bondage (call it which you please) and evenfor the startling clause of the will. At least it would be a faceworth seeing: the face of a man who was without bowels of mercy: aface which had but to show itself to raise up, in the mind of theunimpressionable Enfield, a spirit of enduring hatred.

From that time forward, Mr. Utterson began to haunt the door in theby-street of shops. In the morning before office hours, at noon whenbusiness was plenty, and time scarce, at night under the face of thefogged city moon, by all lights and at all hours of solitude orconcourse, the lawyer was to be found on his chosen post.

"If he be Mr. Hyde," he had thought, "I shall be Mr. Seek."

And at last his patience was rewarded. It was a fine dry night;frost in the air; the streets as clean as a ballroom floor; thelamps, unshaken, by any wind, drawing a regular pattern of lightand shadow. By ten o'clock, when the shops were closed, theby-street was very solitary and, in spite of the low growl ofLondon from all round, very silent. Small sounds carried far;domestic sounds out of the houses were clearly audible on eitherside of the roadway; and the rumour of the approach of anypassenger preceded him by a long time. Mr. Utterson had been someminutes at his post, when he was

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aware of an odd, light footstep drawing near. In the course of hisnightly patrols, he had long grown accustomed to the quaint effectwith which the footfalls of a single person, while he is still a

great way off, suddenly spring out distinct from the vast hum andclatter of the city. Yet his attention had never before been sosharply and decisively arrested; and it was with a strong,superstitious prevision of success that he withdrew into the entryof the court.

The steps drew swiftly nearer, and swelled out suddenly louder asthey turned the end of the street. The lawyer, looking forth fromthe entry, could soon see what manner of man he had to deal with.He was small and very plainly dressed, and the look of him, even atthat distance, went somehow strongly against the watcher'sinclination. But he made straight for the door, crossing theroadway to save time; and as he came, he drew a key from his pocketlike one approaching home.

Mr. Utterson stepped out and touched him on the shoulder as hepassed. "Mr. Hyde, I think?"

Mr. Hyde shrank back with a hissing intake of the breath. But hisfear was only momentary; and though he did not look the lawyer inthe face, he answered coolly enough: "That is my name. What do youwant?"

"I see you are going in," returned the lawyer. "I am an old friendof Dr. Jekyll's--Mr. Utter-

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son of Gaunt Street--you must have heard my name; and meeting youso conveniently, I thought you might admit me."

"You will not find Dr. Jekyll; he is from home," replied Mr. Hyde,blowing in the key. And then suddenly, but still without looking up,"How did you know me?" he asked.

"On your side," said Mr. Utterson, "will you do me a favour?"

"With pleasure," replied the other. "What shall it be?"

"Will you let me see your face?" asked the lawyer.

Mr. Hyde appeared to hesitate, and then, as if upon some suddenreflection, fronted about with an air of defiance; and the pairstared at each other pretty fixedly for a few seconds. "Now I shallknow you again," said Mr. Utterson. "It may be useful."

"Yes," returned Mr. Hyde, "it is as well we have, met; and apropos, you should have my address." And he gave a number of astreet in Soho.

"Good God!" thought Mr. Utterson, "can he, too, have been thinkingof the will?" But he kept his feelings to himself and only gruntedin acknowledgment of the address.

"And now," said the other, "how did you know me?"

"By description," was the reply.

"Whose description?"

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"We have common friends," said Mr. Utterson.

"Common friends?" echoed Mr. Hyde, a little hoarsely. "Who arethey?"

"Jekyll, for instance," said the lawyer.

"He never told you," cried Mr. Hyde, with a flush of anger. "I didnot think you would have lied."

"Come," said Mr. Utterson, "that is not fitting language."

The other snarled aloud into a savage laugh; and the next moment,with extraordinary quickness, he had unlocked the door anddisappeared into the house.

The lawyer stood awhile when Mr. Hyde had left him, the picture ofdisquietude. Then he began slowly to mount the street, pausingevery step or two and putting his hand to his brow like a man in

mental perplexity. The problem he was thus debating as he walked,was one of a class that is rarely solved. Mr. Hyde was pale anddwarfish, he gave an impression of deformity without any nameablemalformation, he had a displeasing smile, he had borne himself tothe lawyer with a sort of murderous mixture of timidity andboldness, and he spoke with a husky, whispering and somewhat brokenvoice; all these were points against him, but not all of thesetogether could explain the hitherto unknown disgust, loathing, andfear with which Mr. Utterson regarded him. "There must be some-

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thing else," said the perplexed gentleman. "There is somethingmore, if I could find a name for it. God bless me, the man seemshardly human! Something troglodytic, shall we say? or can it be theold story of Dr. Fell? or is it the mere radiance of a foul soulthat thus transpires through, and transfigures, its clay continent?The last, I think; for, O my poor old Harry Jekyll, if ever I readSatan's signature upon a face, it is on that of your new friend."

Round the corner from the by-street, there was a square of ancient,handsome houses, now for the most part decayed from their highestate and let in flats and chambers to all sorts and conditions ofmen: map-engravers, architects, shady lawyers, and the agents ofobscure enterprises. One house, however, second from the corner, wasstill occupied entire; and at the door of this, which wore a greatair of wealth and comfort, though it was now plunged in darknessexcept for the fan-light, Mr. Utterson stopped and knocked. Awell-dressed, elderly servant opened the door.

"Is Dr. Jekyll at home, Poole?" asked the lawyer.

"I will see, Mr. Utterson," said Poole, admitting the visitor, ashe spoke, into a large, low-roofed, comfortable hall, paved withflags, warmed (after the fashion of a country house) by a bright,open fire, and furnished with costly cabinets of oak. "Will youwait here by the

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fire, sir? or shall I give you a light in the dining room?"

"Here, thank you," said the lawyer, and he drew near and leaned onthe tall fender. This hall, in which he was now left alone, was apet fancy of his friend the doctor's; and Utterson himself was wontto speak of it as the pleasantest room in London. But to-night therewas a shudder in his blood; the face of Hyde sat heavy on hismemory; he felt (what was rare with him) a nausea and distaste oflife; and in the gloom of his spirits, he seemed to read a menace inthe flickering of the firelight on the polished cabinets and theuneasy starting of the shadow on the roof. He was ashamed of hisrelief, when Poole presently returned to announce that Dr. Jekyllwas gone out.

"I saw Mr. Hyde go in by the old dissecting-room door, Poole," hesaid. "Is that right, when Dr. Jekyll is from home?"

"Quite right, Mr. Utterson, sir," replied the servant. "Mr. Hydehas a key."

"Your master seems to repose a great deal of trust in that youngman, Poole," resumed the other musingly.

"Yes, sir, he do indeed," said Poole. "We have all orders to obeyhim."

"I do not think I ever met Mr. Hyde?" asked Utterson.

"O, dear no, sir. He never dines here," replied the butler. "Indeedwe see very little of

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him on this side of the house; he mostly comes and goes by thelaboratory."

"Well, good-night, Poole."

"Good-night, Mr. Utterson." And the lawyer set out homeward with avery heavy heart. "Poor Harry Jekyll," he thought, "my mindmisgives me he is in deep waters! He was wild when he was young; along while ago to be sure; but in the law of God, there is nostatute of limitations. Ay, it must be that; the ghost of some oldsin, the cancer of some concealed disgrace: punishment coming, PEDECLAUDO, years after memory has forgotten and self-love condoned thefault." And the lawyer, scared by the thought, brooded a while onhis own past, groping in all the corners of memory, lest by chancesome Jack-in-the-Box of an old iniquity should leap to light there.His past was fairly blameless; few men could read the rolls of theirlife with less apprehension; yet he was humbled to the dust by themany ill things he had done, and raised up again into a sober andfearful gratitude by the many that he had come so near to doing, yetavoided. And then by a return on his former subject, he conceived aspark of hope. "This Master Hyde, if he were studied," thought he,"must have secrets of his own; black secrets, by the look of him;secrets compared to which poor Jekyll's worst would be likesunshine. Things cannot continue as they are. It turns me cold tothink of this creature stealing like a

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thief to Harry's bedside; poor Harry, what a wakening! And thedanger of it; for if this Hyde suspects the existence of the will,he may grow impatient to inherit. Ay, I must put my shoulder to thewheel if Jekyll will but let me," he added, "if Jekyll will only letme." For once more he saw before his mind's eye, as clear as atransparency, the strange clauses of the will.

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DR. JEKYLL WAS QUITE AT EASE

A FORTNIGHT later, by excellent good fortune, the doctor gave oneof his pleasant dinners to some five or six old cronies, allintelligent, reputable men and all judges of good wine; and Mr.Utterson so contrived that he remained behind after the others haddeparted. This was no new arrangement, but a thing that hadbefallen many scores of times. Where Utterson was liked, he wasliked well. Hosts loved to detain the dry lawyer, when thelight-hearted and the loose-tongued had already their foot on thethreshold; they liked to sit a while in his unobtrusive company,practising for solitude, sobering their minds in the man's richsilence after the expense and strain of gaiety. To this rule, Dr.Jekyll was no exception; and as he now sat on the opposite side ofthe fire--a large, well-made, smooth-faced man of fifty, withsomething of a slyish cast perhaps, but every mark of capacity andkindness--you could see by his looks that he cherished for Mr.Utterson a sincere and warm affection.

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"I have been wanting to speak to you, Jekyll," began the latter."You know that will of yours?"

A close observer might have gathered that the topic wasdistasteful; but the doctor carried it off gaily. "My poorUtterson," said he, "you are unfortunate in such a client. I neversaw a man so distressed as you were by my will; unless it were thathide-bound pedant, Lanyon, at what he called my scientific heresies.Oh, I know he's a good fellow--you needn't frown--an excellentfellow, and I always mean to see more of him; but a hide-boundpedant for all that; an ignorant, blatant pedant. I was never moredisappointed in any man than Lanyon."

"You know I never approved of it," pursued Utterson, ruthlesslydisregarding the fresh topic.

"My will? Yes, certainly, I know that," said the doctor, a triflesharply. "You have told me so."

"Well, I tell you so again," continued the lawyer. "I have beenlearning something of young Hyde."

The large handsome face of Dr. Jekyll grew pale to the very lips,and there came a blackness about his eyes. "I do not care to hearmore," said he. "This is a matter I thought we had agreed to drop."

"What I heard was abominable," said Utterson.

"It can make no change. You do not under-

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stand my position," returned the doctor, with a certain incoherencyof manner. "I am painfully situated, Utterson; my position is a verystrange--a very strange one. It is one of those affairs thatcannot be mended by talking."

"Jekyll," said Utterson, "you know me: I am a man to be trusted.Make a clean breast of this in confidence; and I make no doubt Ican get you out of it."

"My good Utterson," said the doctor, "this is very good of you,this is downright good of you, and I cannot find words to thank youin. I believe you fully; I would trust you before any man alive, ay,before myself, if I could make the choice; but indeed it isn't whatyou fancy; it is not so bad as that; and just to put your good heartat rest, I will tell you one thing: the moment I choose, I can berid of Mr. Hyde. I give you my hand upon that; and I thank you againand again; and I will just add one little word, Utterson, that I'msure you'll take in good part: this is a private matter, and I begof you to let it sleep."

Utterson reflected a little, looking in the fire.

"I have no doubt you are perfectly right," he said at last, gettingto his feet.

"Well, but since we have touched upon this business, and for thelast time I hope," continued the doctor, "there is one point Ishould like you to understand. I have really a very great interestin poor Hyde. I know you have seen

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him; he told me so; and I fear he was rude. But, I do sincerelytake a great, a very great interest in that young man; and if I amtaken away, Utterson, I wish you to promise me that you will bearwith him and get his rights for him. I think you would, if you knewall; and it would be a weight off my mind if you would promise."

"I can't pretend that I shall ever like him," said the lawyer.

"I don't ask that," pleaded Jekyll, laying his hand upon theother's arm; "I only ask for justice; I only ask you to help himfor my sake, when I am no longer here."

Utterson heaved an irrepressible sigh. "Well," said he, "Ipromise."

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THE CAREW MURDER CASE

NEARLY a year later, in the month of October, 18---, London wasstartled by a crime of singular ferocity and rendered all the morenotable by the high position of the victim. The details were few andstartling. A maid servant living alone in a house not far from theriver, had gone up-stairs to bed about eleven. Although a fog rolledover the city in the small hours, the early part of the night was

cloudless, and the lane, which the maid's window overlooked, wasbrilliantly lit by the full moon. It seems she was romanticallygiven, for she sat down upon her box, which stood immediately underthe window, and fell into a dream of musing. Never (she used to say,with streaming tears, when she narrated that experience), never hadshe felt more at peace with all men or thought more kindly of theworld. And as she so sat she became aware of an aged and beautifulgentleman with white hair, drawing near along the lane; andadvancing to meet him, another and very small gentleman, to whom atfirst she

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paid less attention. When they had come within speech (which wasjust under the maid's eyes) the older man bowed and accosted theother with a very pretty manner of politeness. It did not seem asif the subject of his address were of great importance; indeed,from his pointing, it sometimes appeared as if he were onlyinquiring his way; but the moon shone on his face as he spoke, andthe girl was pleased to watch it, it seemed to breathe such aninnocent and old-world kindness of disposition, yet with somethinghigh too, as of a well-founded self-content. Presently her eyewandered to the other, and she was surprised to recognise in him acertain Mr. Hyde, who had once visited her master and for whom shehad conceived a dislike. He had in his hand a heavy cane, with whichhe was trifling; but he answered never a word, and seemed to listenwith an ill-contained impatience. And then all of a sudden he brokeout in a great flame of anger, stamping with his foot, brandishingthe cane, and carrying on (as the maid described it) like a madman.The old gentleman took a step back, with the air of one very muchsurprised and a trifle hurt; and at that Mr. Hyde broke out of all

bounds and clubbed him to the earth. And next moment, with ape-likefury, he was trampling his victim under foot and hailing down astorm of blows, under which the bones were audibly shattered and thebody jumped upon the roadway. At the horror of these sights andsounds, the maid fainted.

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It was two o'clock when she came to herself and called for thepolice. The murderer was gone long ago; but there lay his victim inthe middle of the lane, incredibly mangled. The stick with which thedeed had been done, although it was of some rare and very tough andheavy wood, had broken in the middle under the stress of thisinsensate cruelty; and one splintered half had rolled in theneighbouring gutter--the other, without doubt, had been carriedaway by the murderer. A purse and a gold watch were found upon thevictim: but no cards or papers, except a sealed and stampedenvelope, which he had been probably carrying to the post, and whichbore the name and address of Mr. Utterson.

This was brought to the lawyer the next morning, before he was outof bed; and he had no sooner seen it, and been told thecircumstances, than he shot out a solemn lip. "I shall say nothingtill I have seen the body," said he; "this may be very serious. Havethe kindness to wait while I dress." And with the same gravecountenance he hurried through his breakfast and drove to the policestation, whither the body had been carried. As soon as he came intothe cell, he nodded.

"Yes," said he, "I recognise him. I am sorry to say that this isSir Danvers Carew."

"Good God, sir," exclaimed the officer, "is it possible?" And thenext moment his eye

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lighted up with professional ambition. "This will make a deal ofnoise," he said. "And perhaps you can help us to the man." And hebriefly narrated what the maid had seen, and showed the brokenstick.

Mr. Utterson had already quailed at the name of Hyde; but when thestick was laid before him, he could doubt no longer; broken andbattered as it was, he recognised it for one that he had himselfpresented many years before to Henry Jekyll.

"Is this Mr. Hyde a person of small stature?" he inquired.

"Particularly small and particularly wicked-looking, is what themaid calls him," said the officer.

Mr. Utterson reflected; and then, raising his head, "If you willcome with me in my cab," he said, "I think I can take you to hishouse."

It was by this time about nine in the morning, and the first fog ofthe season. A great chocolate-coloured pall lowered over heaven, butthe wind was continually charging and routing these embattledvapours; so that as the cab crawled from street to street, Mr.Utterson beheld a marvellous number of degrees and hues of twilight;for here it would be dark like the back-end of evening; and therewould be a glow of a rich, lurid brown, like the light of somestrange conflagration; and here, for a moment, the fog would bequite broken up, and a haggard shaft

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of daylight would glance in between the swirling wreaths. Thedismal quarter of Soho seen under these changing glimpses, with itsmuddy ways, and slatternly passengers, and its lamps, which hadnever been extinguished or had been kindled afresh to combat thismournful re-invasion of darkness, seemed, in the lawyer's eyes, likea district of some city in a nightmare. The thoughts of his mind,besides, were of the gloomiest dye; and when he glanced at thecompanion of his drive, he was conscious of some touch of that

terror of the law and the law's officers, which may at times assailthe most honest.

As the cab drew up before the address indicated, the fog lifted alittle and showed him a dingy street, a gin palace, a low Frencheating-house, a shop for the retail of penny numbers and twopennysalads, many ragged children huddled in the doorways, and manywomen of different nationalities passing out, key in hand, to have amorning glass; and the next moment the fog settled down again uponthat part, as brown as umber, and cut him off from his blackguardlysurroundings. This was the home of Henry Jekyll's favourite; of aman who was heir to a quarter of a million sterling.

An ivory-faced and silvery-haired old woman opened the door. Shehad an evil face, smoothed by hypocrisy; but her manners wereexcellent. Yes, she said, this was Mr. Hyde's, but he was not athome; he had been in that night very late,

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but had gone away again in less than an hour; there was nothingstrange in that; his habits were very irregular, and he was oftenabsent; for instance, it was nearly two months since she had seenhim till yesterday.

"Very well, then, we wish to see his rooms," said the lawyer; andwhen the woman began to declare it was impossible, "I had bettertell you who this person is," he added. "This is Inspector Newcomenof Scotland Yard."

A flash of odious joy appeared upon the woman's face. "Ah!" saidshe, "he is in trouble! What has he done?"

Mr. Utterson and the inspector exchanged glances. "He don't seem avery popular character," observed the latter. "And now, my goodwoman, just let me and this gentleman have a look about us."

In the whole extent of the house, which but for the old womanremained otherwise empty, Mr. Hyde had only used a couple of rooms;but these were furnished with luxury and good taste. A closet was

filled with wine; the plate was of silver, the napery elegant; agood picture hung upon the walls, a gift (as Utterson supposed) fromHenry Jekyll, who was much of a connoisseur; and the carpets were ofmany plies and agreeable in colour. At this moment, however, therooms bore every mark of having been recently and hurriedlyransacked; clothes lay about the floor, with their pockets insideout;

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lock-fast drawers stood open; and on the hearth there lay a pile ofgrey ashes, as though many papers had been burned. From theseembers the inspector disinterred the butt-end of a greencheque-book, which had resisted the action of the fire; the otherhalf of the stick was found behind the door; and as this clinchedhis suspicions, the officer declared himself delighted. A visit tothe bank, where several thousand pounds were found to be lying tothe murderer's credit, completed his gratification.

"You may depend upon it, sir," he told Mr. Utterson: "I have him inmy hand. He must have lost his head, or he never would have left thestick or, above all, burned the cheque-book. Why, money's life tothe man. We have nothing to do but wait for him at the bank, and getout the handbills."

This last, however, was not so easy of accomplishment; for Mr. Hydehad numbered few familiars--even the master of the servant-maidhad only seen him twice; his family could nowhere be traced; he hadnever been photographed; and the few who could describe him differedwidely, as common observers will. Only on one point, were theyagreed; and that was the haunting sense of unexpressed deformitywith which the fugitive impressed his beholders.

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INCIDENT OF THE LETTER

IT was late in the afternoon, when Mr. Utterson found his way toDr. Jekyll's door, where he was at once admitted by Poole, andcarried down by the kitchen offices and across a yard which hadonce been a garden, to the building which was indifferently knownas the laboratory or the dissecting-rooms. The doctor had boughtthe house from the heirs of a celebrated surgeon; and his owntastes being rather chemical than anatomical, had changed thedestination of the block at the bottom of the garden. It was thefirst time that the lawyer had been received in that part of hisfriend's quarters; and he eyed the dingy, windowless structure withcuriosity, and gazed round with a distasteful sense of strangenessas he crossed the theatre, once crowded with eager students and nowlying gaunt and silent, the tables laden with chemical apparatus,the floor strewn with crates and littered with packing straw, andthe light falling dimly through the foggy cupola. At the furtherend, a flight of stairs mounted to a door covered with red baize;

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and through this, Mr. Utterson was at last received into thedoctor's cabinet. It was a large room, fitted round with glasspresses, furnished, among other things, with a cheval-glass and abusiness table, and looking out upon the court by three dustywindows barred with iron. A fire burned in the grate; a lamp wasset lighted on the chimney shelf, for even in the houses the fogbegan to lie thickly; and there, close up to the warmth, sat Dr.Jekyll, looking deadly sick. He did not rise to meet his visitor,but held out a cold hand and bade him welcome in a changed voice.

"And now," said Mr. Utterson, as soon as Poole had left them, "youhave heard the news?"

The doctor shuddered. "They were crying it in the square," he said."I heard them in my dining-room."

"One word," said the lawyer. "Carew was my client, but so are you,and I want to know what I am doing. You have not been mad enough tohide this fellow?"

"Utterson, I swear to God," cried the doctor, "I swear to God Iwill never set eyes on him again. I bind my honour to you that I amdone with him in this world. It is all at an end. And indeed he doesnot want my help; you do not know him as I do; he is safe, he isquite safe; mark my words, he will never more be heard of."

The lawyer listened gloomily; he did not like his friend's feverishmanner. "You seem pretty

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sure of him," said he; "and for your sake, I hope you may be right.If it came to a trial, your name might appear."

"I am quite sure of him," replied Jekyll; "I have grounds forcertainty that I cannot share with any one. But there is one thingon which you may advise me. I have--I have received a letter; andI am at a loss whether I should show it to the police. I should liketo leave it in your hands, Utterson; you would judge wisely, I amsure; I have so great a trust in you."

"You fear, I suppose, that it might lead to his detection?" askedthe lawyer.

"No," said the other. "I cannot say that I care what becomes ofHyde; I am quite done with him. I was thinking of my own character,which this hateful business has rather exposed."

Utterson ruminated a while; he was surprised at his friend'sselfishness, and yet relieved by it. "Well," said he, at last, "letme see the letter."

The letter was written in an odd, upright hand and signed "EdwardHyde": and it signified, briefly enough, that the writer'sbenefactor, Dr. Jekyll, whom he had long so unworthily repaid for a

thousand generosities, need labour under no alarm for his safety, ashe had means of escape on which he placed a sure dependence. Thelawyer liked this letter well enough; it put a better colour on theintimacy than he had looked for; and he blamed himself for some ofhis past suspicions.

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"Have you the envelope?" he asked.

"I burned it," replied Jekyll, "before I thought what I was about.But it bore no postmark. The note was handed in."

"Shall I keep this and sleep upon it?" asked Utterson.

"I wish you to judge for me entirely," was the reply. "I have lostconfidence in myself."

"Well, I shall consider," returned the lawyer. "And now one wordmore: it was Hyde who dictated the terms in your will about thatdisappearance?"

The doctor seemed seized with a qualm of faintness: he shut hismouth tight and nodded.

"I knew it," said Utterson. "He meant to murder you. You have had afine escape."

"I have had what is far more to the purpose," returned the doctorsolemnly: "I have had a lesson--O God, Utterson, what a lesson Ihave had!" And he covered his face for a moment with his hands.

On his way out, the lawyer stopped and had a word or two withPoole. "By the by," said he, "there was a letter handed in to-day:what was the messenger like?" But Poole was positive nothing hadcome except by post; "and only circulars by that," he added.

This news sent off the visitor with his fears renewed. Plainly the

letter had come by the laboratory door; possibly, indeed, it hadbeen

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written in the cabinet; and if that were so, it must be differentlyjudged, and handled with the more caution. The newsboys, as he went,were crying themselves hoarse along the footways: "Special edition.Shocking murder of an M. P." That was the funeral oration of onefriend and client; and he could not help a certain apprehension lestthe good name of another should be sucked down in the eddy of thescandal. It was, at least, a ticklish decision that he had to make;and self-reliant as he was by habit, he began to cherish a longingfor advice. It was not to be had directly; but perhaps, he thought,it might be fished for.

Presently after, he sat on one side of his own hearth, with Mr.Guest, his head clerk, upon the other, and midway between, at anicely calculated distance from the fire, a bottle of a particularold wine that had long dwelt unsunned in the foundations of hishouse. The fog still slept on the wing above the drowned city, wherethe lamps glimmered like carbuncles; and through the muffle andsmother of these fallen clouds, the procession of the town's lifewas still rolling in through the great arteries with a sound as of amighty wind. But the room was gay with firelight. In the bottle theacids were long ago resolved; the imperial dye had softened withtime, As the colour grows richer in stained windows; and the glow ofhot autumn afternoons on hillside vineyards was ready to be set free

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and to disperse the fogs of London. Insensibly the lawyer melted.There was no man from whom he kept fewer secrets than Mr. Guest;

and he was not always sure that he kept as many as he meant. Guesthad often been on business to the doctor's; he knew Poole; he couldscarce have failed to hear of Mr. Hyde's familiarity about thehouse; he might draw conclusions: was it not as well, then, that heshould see a letter which put that mystery to rights? and above allsince Guest, being a great student and critic of handwriting, wouldconsider the step natural and obliging? The clerk, besides, was aman of counsel; he would scarce read so strange a document withoutdropping a remark; and by that remark Mr. Utterson might shape hisfuture course.

"This is a sad business about Sir Danvers," he said.

"Yes, sir, indeed. It has elicited a great deal of public feeling,"returned Guest. "The man, of course, was mad."

"I should like to hear your views on that," replied Utterson. "Ihave a document here in his handwriting; it is between ourselves,for I scarce know what to do about it; it is an ugly business atthe best. But there it is; quite in your way a murderer'sautograph."

Guest's eyes brightened, and he sat down at once and studied itwith passion. "No, sir," he said: "not mad; but it is an odd hand."

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"And by all accounts a very odd writer," added the lawyer.

Just then the servant entered with a note.

"Is that from Dr. Jekyll, sir?" inquired the clerk. "I thought Iknew the writing. Anything private, Mr. Utterson?"

"Only an invitation to dinner. Why? Do you want to see it?"

"One moment. I thank you, sir"; and the clerk laid the two sheetsof paper alongside and sedulously compared their contents. "Thank

you, sir," he said at last, returning both; "it's a veryinteresting autograph."

There was a pause, during which Mr. Utterson struggled withhimself. "Why did you compare them, Guest?" he inquired suddenly.

"Well, sir," returned the clerk, "there's a rather singularresemblance; the two hands are in many points identical: onlydifferently sloped."

"Rather quaint," said Utterson.

"It is, as you say, rather quaint," returned Guest.

"I wouldn't speak of this note, you know," said the master.

"No, sir," said the clerk. "I understand."

But no sooner was Mr. Utterson alone that night than he locked thenote into his safe, where it reposed from that time forward."What!" he thought. "Henry Jekyll forge for a murderer!" And hisblood ran cold in his veins.

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REMARKABLE INCIDENT OF DR. LANYON

TIME ran on; thousands of pounds were offered in reward, for thedeath of Sir Danvers was resented as a public injury; but Mr. Hydehad disappeared out of the ken of the police as though he had neverexisted. Much of his past was unearthed, indeed, and alldisreputable: tales came out of the man's cruelty, at once socallous and violent; of his vile life, of his strange associates,of the hatred that seemed to have surrounded his career; but of hispresent whereabouts, not a whisper. From the time he had left thehouse in Soho on the morning of the murder, he was simply blottedout; and gradually, as time drew on, Mr. Utterson began to recoverfrom the hotness of his alarm, and to grow more at quiet with

himself. The death of Sir Danvers was, to his way of thinking, morethan paid for by the disappearance of Mr. Hyde. Now that that evilinfluence had been withdrawn, a new life began for Dr. Jekyll. Hecame out of his seclusion, renewed relations with his friends,became once more their familiar guest

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and entertainer; and whilst he had always been known forcharities, he was now no less distinguished for religion. He wasbusy, he was much in the open air, he did good; his face seemed toopen and brighten, as if with an inward consciousness of service;and for more than two months, the doctor was at peace.

On the 8th of January Utterson had dined at the doctor's with asmall party; Lanyon had been there; and the face of the host hadlooked from one to the other as in the old days when the trio wereinseparable friends. On the 12th, and again on the 14th, the doorwas shut against the lawyer. "The doctor was confined to thehouse," Poole said, "and saw no one." On the 15th, he tried again,and was again refused; and having now been used for the last twomonths to see his friend almost daily, he found this return ofsolitude to weigh upon his spirits. The fifth night he had in Guestto dine with him; and the sixth he betook himself to Dr. Lanyon's.

There at least he was not denied admittance; but when he came in,he was shocked at the change which had taken place in the doctor'sappearance. He had his death-warrant written legibly upon his face.The rosy man had grown pale; his flesh had fallen away; he wasvisibly balder and older; and yet it was not so much, these tokensof a swift physical decay that arrested the lawyer's notice, as alook in the eye and quality of manner that seemed to testify to

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some deep-seated terror of the mind. It was unlikely that thedoctor should fear death; and yet that was what Utterson was

tempted to suspect. "Yes," he thought; "he is a doctor, he mustknow his own state and that his days are counted; and the knowledgeis more than he can bear." And yet when Utterson remarked on hisill-looks, it was with an air of greatness that Lanyon declaredhimself a doomed man.

"I have had a shock," he said, "and I shall never recover. It is aquestion of weeks. Well, life has been pleasant; I liked it; yes,sir, I used to like it. I sometimes think if we knew all, we shouldbe more glad to get away."

"Jekyll is ill, too," observed Utterson. "Have you seen him?"

But Lanyon's face changed, and he held up a trembling hand. "I wishto see or hear no more of Dr. Jekyll," he said in a loud, unsteadyvoice. "I am quite done with that person; and I beg that you willspare me any allusion to one whom I regard as dead."

"Tut-tut," said Mr. Utterson; and then after a considerable pause,"Can't I do anything?" he inquired. "We are three very old friends,Lanyon; we shall not live to make others."

"Nothing can be done," returned Lanyon; "ask himself."

"He will not see me," said the lawyer.

"I am not surprised at that," was the reply. "Some day, Utterson,after I am dead, you may

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perhaps come to learn the right and wrong of this. I cannot tellyou. And in the meantime, if you can sit and talk with me of otherthings, for God's sake, stay and do so; but if you cannot keep clearof this accursed topic, then, in God's name, go, for I cannot bearit."

As soon as he got home, Utterson sat down and wrote to Jekyll,complaining of his exclusion from the house, and asking the causeof this unhappy break with Lanyon; and the next day brought him along answer, often very pathetically worded, and sometimes darklymysterious in drift. The quarrel with Lanyon was incurable. "I donot blame our old friend," Jekyll wrote, "but I share his viewthat we must never meet. I mean from henceforth to lead a life ofextreme seclusion; you must not be surprised, nor must you doubtmy friendship, if my door is often shut even to you. You mustsuffer me to go my own dark way. I have brought on myself apunishment and a danger that I cannot name. If I am the chief ofsinners, I am the chief of sufferers also. I could not think thatthis earth contained a place for sufferings and terrors sounmanning; and you can do but one thing, Utterson, to lightenthis destiny, and that is to respect my silence." Utterson wasamazed; the dark influence of Hyde had been withdrawn, the doctorhad returned to his old tasks and amities; a week ago, theprospect had smiled with every promise of a cheerful and anhonoured age;

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and now in a moment, friendship, and peace of mind, and the wholetenor of his life were wrecked. So great and unprepared a changepointed to madness; but in view of Lanyon's manner and words,there must lie for it some deeper ground.

A week afterwards Dr. Lanyon took to his bed, and in somethingless than a fortnight he was dead. The night after the funeral,at which he had been sadly affected, Utterson locked the door ofhis business room, and sitting there by the light of a melancholycandle, drew out and set before him an envelope addressed by thehand and sealed with the seal of his dead friend. "PRIVATE: forthe hands of G. J. Utterson ALONE and in case of his predeceaseto be destroyed unread," so it was emphatically superscribed; andthe lawyer dreaded to behold the contents. "I have buried onefriend to-day," he thought: "what if this should cost meanother?" And then he condemned the fear as a disloyalty, andbroke the seal. Within there was another enclosure, likewisesealed, and marked upon the cover as "not to be opened till thedeath or disappearance of Dr. Henry Jekyll." Utterson could nottrust his eyes. Yes, it was disappearance; here again, as in themad will which he had long ago restored to its author, here againwere the idea of a disappearance and the name of Henry Jekyllbracketed. But in the will, that idea had sprung from thesinister suggestion of

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the man Hyde; it was set there with a purpose all too plain andhorrible. Written by the hand of Lanyon, what should it mean? Agreat curiosity came on the trustee, to disregard the prohibitionand dive at once to the bottom of these mysteries; butprofessional honour and faith to his dead friend were stringentobligations; and the packet slept in the inmost corner of hisprivate safe.

It is one thing to mortify curiosity, another to conquer it; andit may be doubted if, from that day forth, Utterson desired thesociety of his surviving friend with the same eagerness. Hethought of him kindly; but his thoughts were disquieted andfearful. He went to call indeed; but he was perhaps relieved tobe denied admittance; perhaps, in his heart, he preferred tospeak with Poole upon the doorstep and surrounded by the air andsounds of the open city, rather than to be admitted into thathouse of voluntary bondage, and to sit and speak with itsinscrutable recluse. Poole had, indeed, no very pleasant news tocommunicate. The doctor, it appeared, now more than ever confinedhimself to the cabinet over the laboratory, where he wouldsometimes even sleep; he was out of spirits, he had grown verysilent, he did not read; it seemed as if he had something on hismind. Utterson became so used to the unvarying character of thesereports, that he fell off little by little in the frequency ofhis visits.

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INCIDENT AT THE WINDOW

IT chanced on Sunday, when Mr. Utterson was on his usual walkwith Mr. Enfield, that their way lay once again through theby-street; and that when they came in front of the door, bothstopped to gaze on it.

"Well," said Enfield, "that story's at an end at least. We shallnever see more of Mr. Hyde."

"I hope not," said Utterson. "Did I ever tell you that I once sawhim, and shared your feeling of repulsion?"

"It was impossible to do the one without the other," returnedEnfield. "And by the way, what an ass you must have thought me,

not to know that this was a back way to Dr. Jekyll's! It waspartly your own fault that I found it out, even when I did."

"So you found it out, did you?" said Utterson. "But if that beso, we may step into the court and take a look at the windows. Totell you the truth, I am uneasy about poor Jekyll; and evenoutside, I feel as if the presence of a friend might do himgood."

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The court was very cool and a little damp, and full of prematuretwilight, although the sky, high up overhead, was still brightwith sunset. The middle one of the three windows was half-wayopen; and sitting close beside it, taking the air with aninfinite sadness of mien, like some disconsolate prisoner,Utterson saw Dr. Jekyll.

"What! Jekyll!" he cried. "I trust you are better."

"I am very low, Utterson," replied the doctor, drearily, "verylow. It will not last long, thank God."

"You stay too much indoors," said the lawyer. "You should be out,whipping up the circulation like Mr. Enfield and me. (This is mycousin--Mr. Enfield--Dr. Jekyll.) Come, now; get your hat andtake a quick turn with us."

"You are very good," sighed the other. "I should like to verymuch; but no, no, no, it is quite impossible; I dare not. Butindeed, Utterson, I am very glad to see you; this is really agreat pleasure; I would ask you and Mr. Enfield up, but the placeis really not fit."

"Why then," said the lawyer, good-naturedly, "the best thing wecan do is to stay down here and speak with you from where weare."

"That is just what I was about to venture to propose," returnedthe doctor with a smile. But the words were hardly uttered,before the smile was struck out of his face and succeeded

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by an expression of such abject terror and despair, as froze thevery blood of the two gentlemen below. They saw it but for aglimpse, for the window was instantly thrust down; but that

glimpse had been sufficient, and they turned and left the courtwithout a word. In silence, too, they traversed the by-street;and it was not until they had come into a neighbouringthoroughfare, where even upon a Sunday there were still somestirrings of life, that Mr. Utterson at last turned and looked athis companion. They were both pale; and there was an answeringhorror in their eyes.

"God forgive us, God forgive us," said Mr. Utterson.

But Mr. Enfield only nodded his head very seriously and walked ononce more in silence.

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THE LAST NIGHT

MR. UTTERSON was sitting by his fireside one evening afterdinner, when he was surprised to receive a visit from Poole.

"Bless me, Poole, what brings you here?" he cried; and thentaking a second look at him, "What ails you?" he added; "is thedoctor ill?"

"Mr. Utterson," said the man, "there is something wrong."

"Take a seat, and here is a glass of wine for you," said thelawyer. "Now, take your time, and tell me plainly what you want."

"You know the doctor's ways, sir," replied Poole, "and how heshuts himself up. Well, he's shut up again in the cabinet; and Idon't like it, sir--I wish I may die if I like it. Mr. Utterson,sir, I'm afraid."

"Now, my good man," said the lawyer, "be explicit. What are youafraid of?"

"I've been afraid for about a week," returned Poole, doggedlydisregarding the question, "and I can bear it no more."

The man's appearance amply bore out his

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words; his manner was altered for the worse; and except for themoment when he had first announced his terror, he had not oncelooked the lawyer in the face. Even now, he sat with the glass ofwine untasted on his knee, and his eyes directed to a corner ofthe floor. "I can bear it no more," he repeated.

"Come," said the lawyer, "I see you have some good reason, Poole;I see there is something seriously amiss. Try to tell me what itis."

"I think there's been foul play," said Poole, hoarsely.

"Foul play!" cried the lawyer, a good deal frightened and ratherinclined to be irritated in consequence. "What foul play? Whatdoes the man mean?"

"I daren't say, sir," was the answer; "but will you come alongwith me and see for yourself?"

Mr. Utterson's only answer was to rise and get his hat andgreat-coat; but he observed with wonder the greatness of therelief that appeared upon the butler's face, and perhaps with noless, that the wine was still untasted when he set it down tofollow.

It was a wild, cold, seasonable night of March, with a pale moon,lying on her back as though the wind had tilted her, and a flyingwrack of the most diaphanous and lawny texture. The wind madetalking difficult, and flecked the blood into the face. It seemedto have swept the

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streets unusually bare of passengers, besides; for Mr. Uttersonthought he had never seen that part of London so deserted. Hecould have wished it otherwise; never in his life had he beenconscious of so sharp a wish to see and touch hisfellow-creatures; for struggle as he might, there was borne inupon his mind a crushing anticipation of calamity. The square,when they got there, was all full of wind and dust, and the thintrees in the garden were lashing themselves along the railing.Poole, who had kept all the way a pace or two ahead, now pulledup in the middle of the pavement, and in spite of the bitingweather, took off his hat and mopped his brow with a redpocket-handkerchief. But for all the hurry of his coming, thesewere not the dews of exertion that he wiped away, but the

moisture of some strangling anguish; for his face was white andhis voice, when he spoke, harsh and broken.

"Well, sir," he said, "here we are, and God grant there benothing wrong."

"Amen, Poole," said the lawyer.

Thereupon the servant knocked in a very guarded manner; the doorwas opened on the chain; and a voice asked from within, "Is thatyou, Poole?"

"It's all right," said Poole. "Open the door." The hall, whenthey entered it, was brightly lighted up; the fire was builthigh; and about the hearth the whole of the servants, men and

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women, stood huddled together like a flock of sheep. At the sightof Mr. Utterson, the housemaid broke into hysterical whimpering;and the cook, crying out, "Bless God! it's Mr. Utterson," ranforward as if to take him in her arms.

"What, what? Are you all here?" said the lawyer peevishly. "Veryirregular, very unseemly; your master would be far from pleased."

"They're all afraid," said Poole.

Blank silence followed, no one protesting; only the maid liftedup her voice and now wept loudly.

"Hold your tongue!" Poole said to her, with a ferocity of accentthat testified to his own jangled nerves; and indeed, when thegirl had so suddenly raised the note of her lamentation, they hadall started and turned toward the inner door with faces ofdreadful expectation. "And now," continued the butler, addressingthe knife-boy, "reach me a candle, and we'll get this throughhands at once." And then he begged Mr. Utterson to follow him,and led the way to the back-garden.

"Now, sir," said he, "you come as gently as you can. I want youto hear, and I don't want you to be heard. And see here, sir, ifby any chance he was to ask you in, don't go."

Mr. Utterson's nerves, at this unlooked-for termination, gave ajerk that nearly threw him from his balance; but he re-collectedhis courage

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and followed the butler into the laboratory building and throughthe surgical theatre, with its lumber of crates and bottles, tothe foot of the stair. Here Poole motioned him to stand on oneside and listen; while he himself, setting down the candle andmaking a great and obvious call on his resolution, mounted thesteps and knocked with a somewhat uncertain hand on the red baizeof the cabinet door.

"Mr. Utterson, sir, asking to see you," he called; and even as hedid so, once more violently signed to the lawyer to give ear.

A voice answered from within: "Tell him I cannot see any one," itsaid complainingly.

"Thank you, sir," said Poole, with a note of something liketriumph in his voice; and taking up his candle, he led Mr.Utterson back across the yard and into the great kitchen, wherethe fire was out and the beetles were leaping on the floor.

"Sir," he said, looking Mr. Utterson in the eyes, "was that mymaster's voice?"

"It seems much changed," replied the lawyer, very pale, butgiving look for look.

"Changed? Well, yes, I think so," said the butler. "Have I beentwenty years in this man's house, to be deceived about his voice?No, sir; master's made away with; he was made, away with eightdays ago, when we heard him cry out upon the name of God; andwho's in there instead of him, and why it stays there, is a thingthat cries to Heaven, Mr. Utterson!"

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"This is a very strange tale, Poole; this is rather a wild tale,my man," said Mr. Utterson, biting his finger. "Suppose it wereas you suppose, supposing Dr. Jekyll to have been--well,murdered, what could induce the murderer to stay? That won't holdwater; it doesn't commend itself to reason."

"Well, Mr. Utterson, you are a hard man to satisfy, but I'll doit yet," said Poole. "All this last week (you must know) him, orit, or whatever it is that lives in that cabinet, has been cryingnight and day for some sort of medicine and cannot get it to his

mind. It was sometimes his way--the master's, that is--towrite his orders on a sheet of paper and throw it on the stair.We've had nothing else this week back; nothing but papers, and aclosed door, and the very meals left there to be smuggled in whennobody was looking. Well, sir, every day, ay, and twice andthrice in the same day, there have been orders and complaints,and I have been sent flying to all the wholesale chemists intown. Every time I brought the stuff back, there would be anotherpaper telling me to return it, because it was not pure, andanother order to a different firm. This drug is wanted bitterbad, sir, whatever for."

"Have you any of these papers?" asked Mr. Utterson.

Poole felt in his pocket and handed out a crumpled note, whichthe lawyer, bending nearer

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to the candle, carefully examined. Its contents ran thus: "Dr.Jekyll presents his compliments to Messrs. Maw. He assures themthat their last sample is impure and quite useless for hispresent purpose. In the year 18---, Dr. J. purchased a somewhatlarge quantity from Messrs. M. He now begs them to search withthe most sedulous care, and should any of the same quality beleft, to forward it to him at once. Expense is no consideration.The importance of this to Dr. J. can hardly be exaggerated." Sofar the letter had run composedly enough, but here with a suddensplutter of the pen, the writer's emotion had broken loose. "ForGod's sake," he had added, "find me some of the old."

"This is a strange note," said Mr. Utterson; and then sharply,"How do you come to have it open?"

"The man at Maw's was main angry, sir, and he threw it back to melike so much dirt," returned Poole.

"This is unquestionably the doctor's hand, do you know?" resumedthe lawyer.

"I thought it looked like it," said the servant rather sulkily;and then, with another voice, "But what matters hand-of-write?"he said. "I've seen him!"

"Seen him?" repeated Mr. Utterson. "Well?"

"That's it!" said Poole. "It was this way. I came suddenly into

the theatre from the

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garden. It seems he had slipped out to look for this drug orwhatever it is; for the cabinet door was open, and there he wasat the far end of the room digging among the crates. He looked upwhen I came in, gave a kind of cry, and whipped up-stairs intothe cabinet. It was but for one minute that I saw him, but thehair stood upon my head like quills. Sir, if that was my master,why had he a mask upon his face? If it was my master, why did hecry out like a rat, and run from me? I have served him longenough. And then..." The man paused and passed his hand over hisface.

"These are all very strange circumstances," said Mr. Utterson,"but I think I begin to see daylight. Your master, Poole, isplainly seized with one of those maladies that both torture anddeform the sufferer; hence, for aught I know, the alteration ofhis voice; hence the mask and the avoidance of his friends; hencehis eagerness to find this drug, by means of which the poor soulretains some hope of ultimate recovery--God grant that he benot deceived! There is my explanation; it is sad enough, Poole,ay, and appalling to consider; but it is plain and natural, hangswell together, and delivers us from all exorbitant alarms."

"Sir," said the butler, turning to a sort of mottled pallor,"that thing was not my master, and there's the truth. My master"here he looked round him and began to whisper--"is

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a tall, fine build of a man, and this was more of a dwarf."Utterson attempted to protest. "O, sir," cried Poole, "do youthink I do not know my master after twenty years? Do you think Ido not know where his head comes to in the cabinet door, where Isaw him every morning of my life? No, Sir, that thing in the maskwas never Dr. Jekyll--God knows what it was, but it was neverDr. Jekyll; and it is the belief of my heart that there wasmurder done."

"Poole," replied the lawyer, "if you say that, it will become myduty to make certain. Much as I desire to spare your master'sfeelings, much as I am puzzled by this note which seems to provehim to be still alive, I shall consider it my duty to break inthat door."

"Ah Mr. Utterson, that's talking!" cried the butler.

"And now comes the second question," resumed Utterson: "Who isgoing to do it?"

"Why, you and me," was the undaunted reply.

"That's very well said," returned the lawyer; "and whatever comesof it, I shall make it my business to see you are no loser."

"There is an axe in the theatre," continued Poole; "and you mighttake the kitchen poker for yourself."

The lawyer took that rude but weighty instrument into his hand,and balanced it. "Do you know, Poole," he said, looking up, "that

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you and I are about to place ourselves in a position of someperil?"

"You may say so, sir, indeed," returned the butler.

"It is well, then, that we should be frank," said the other. "Weboth think more than we have said; let us make a clean breast.This masked figure that you saw, did you recognise it?"

"Well, sir, it went so quick, and the creature was so doubled up,that I could hardly swear to that," was the answer. "But if youmean, was it Mr. Hyde?--why, yes, I think it was! You see, itwas much of the same bigness; and it had the same quick, lightway with it; and then who else could have got in by thelaboratory door? You have not forgot, sir that at the time of themurder he had still the key with him? But that's not all. I don'tknow, Mr. Utterson, if ever you met this Mr. Hyde?"

"Yes," said the lawyer, "I once spoke with him."

"Then you must know as well as the rest of us that there wassomething queer about that gentleman--something that gave a mana turn--I don't know rightly how to say it, sir, beyond this:that you felt it in your marrow kind of cold and thin."

"I own I felt something of what you describe," said Mr. Utterson.

"Quite so, sir," returned Poole. "Well, when

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that masked thing like a monkey jumped from among the chemicalsand whipped into the cabinet, it went down my spine like ice. Oh,I know it's not evidence, Mr. Utterson. I'm book-learned enoughfor that; but a man has his feelings, and I give you myBible-word it was Mr. Hyde!"

"Ay, ay," said the lawyer. "My fears incline to the same point.Evil, I fear, founded--evil was sure to come--of thatconnection. Ay, truly, I believe you; I believe poor Harry iskilled; and I believe his murderer (for what purpose, God alonecan tell) is still lurking in his victim's room. Well, let ourname be vengeance. Call Bradshaw."

The footman came at the summons, very white and nervous.

"Pull yourself together, Bradshaw," said the lawyer. "Thissuspense, I know, is telling upon all of you; but it is now ourintention to make an end of it. Poole, here, and I are going toforce our way into the cabinet. If all is well, my shoulders arebroad enough to bear the blame. Meanwhile, lest anything shouldreally be amiss, or any malefactor seek to escape by the back,you and the boy must go round the corner with a pair of goodsticks and take your post at the laboratory door. We give you tenminutes to get to your stations."

As Bradshaw left, the lawyer looked at his watch. "And now,Poole, let us get to ours,"

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he said; and taking the poker under his arm, led the way into theyard. The scud had banked over the moon, and it was now quitedark. The wind, which only broke in puffs and draughts into thatdeep well of building, tossed the light of the candle to and froabout their steps, until they came into the shelter of thetheatre, where they sat down silently to wait. London hummedsolemnly all around; but nearer at hand, the stillness was onlybroken by the sounds of a footfall moving to and fro along thecabinet floor.

"So it will walk all day, sir," whispered Poole; "ay, and thebetter part of the night. Only when a new sample comes from thechemist, there's a bit of a break. Ah, it's an ill consciencethat's such an enemy to rest! Ah, sir, there's blood foully shed

in every step of it! But hark again, a little closer--put yourheart in your ears, Mr. Utterson, and tell me, is that thedoctor's foot?"

The steps fell lightly and oddly, with a certain swing, for allthey went so slowly; it was different indeed from the heavycreaking tread of Henry Jekyll. Utterson sighed. "Is there neveranything else?" he asked.

Poole nodded. "Once," he said. "Once I heard it weeping!"

"Weeping? how that?" said the lawyer, conscious of a sudden chillof horror.

"Weeping like a woman or a lost soul," said

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the butler. "I came away with that upon my heart, that I couldhave wept too."

But now the ten minutes drew to an end. Poole disinterred the axefrom under a stack of packing straw; the candle was set upon thenearest table to light them to the attack; and they drew nearwith bated breath to where that patient foot was still going upand down, up and down, in the quiet of the night.

"Jekyll," cried Utterson, with a loud voice, "I demand to seeyou." He paused a moment, but there came no reply. "I give youfair warning, our suspicions are aroused, and I must and shallsee you," he resumed; "if not by fair means, then by foul! if notof your consent, then by brute force!"

"Utterson," said the voice, "for God's sake, have mercy!"

"Ah, that's not Jekyll's voice--it's Hyde's!" cried Utterson."Down with the door, Poole!"

Poole swung the axe over his shoulder; the blow shook thebuilding, and the red baize door leaped against the lock andhinges. A dismal screech, as of mere animal terror, rang from thecabinet. Up went the axe again, and again the panels crashed andthe frame bounded; four times the blow fell; but the wood wastough and the fittings were of excellent workmanship; and it wasnot until the fifth, that the lock burst in sunder and the wreckof the door fell inwards on the carpet.

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The besiegers, appalled by their own riot and the stillness thathad succeeded, stood back a little and peered in. There lay thecabinet before their eyes in the quiet lamplight, a good fireglowing and chattering on the hearth, the kettle singing its thinstrain, a drawer or two open, papers neatly set forth on thebusiness-table, and nearer the fire, the things laid out for tea:the quietest room, you would have said, and, but for the glazedpresses full of chemicals, the most commonplace that night inLondon.

Right in the midst there lay the body of a man sorely contortedand still twitching. They drew near on tiptoe, turned it on itsback and beheld the face of Edward Hyde. He was dressed inclothes far too large for him, clothes of the doctor's bigness;the cords of his face still moved with a semblance of life, butlife was quite gone; and by the crushed phial in the hand and thestrong smell of kernels that hung upon the air, Utterson knewthat he was looking on the body of a self-destroyer.

"We have come too late," he said sternly, "whether to save orpunish. Hyde is gone to his account; and it only remains for usto find the body of your master."

The far greater proportion of the building was occupied by thetheatre, which filled almost the whole ground story and waslighted from above, and by the cabinet, which formed an upperstory at one end and looked upon the

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court. A corridor joined the theatre to the door on theby-street; and with this the cabinet communicated separately by asecond flight of stairs. There were besides a few dark closetsand a spacious cellar. All these they now thoroughly examined.Each closet needed but a glance, for all were empty, and all, bythe dust that fell from their doors, had stood long unopened. Thecellar, indeed, was filled with crazy lumber, mostly dating fromthe times of the surgeon who was Jekyll's predecessor; but evenas they opened the door they were advertised of the uselessnessof further search, by the fall of a perfect mat of cobweb whichhad for years sealed up the entrance. Nowhere was there any traceof Henry Jekyll, dead or alive.

Poole stamped on the flags of the corridor. "He must be buriedhere," he said, hearkening to the sound.

"Or he may have fled," said Utterson, and he turned to examinethe door in the by-street. It was locked; and lying near by onthe flags, they found the key, already stained with rust.

"This does not look like use," observed the lawyer.

"Use!" echoed Poole. "Do you not see, sir, it is broken? much asif a man had stamped on it."

"Ay," continued Utterson, "and the fractures, too, are rusty."The two men looked at each other with a scare. "This is beyondme,

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Poole," said the lawyer. "Let us go back to the cabinet."

They mounted the stair in silence, and still with an occasionalawe-struck glance at the dead body, proceeded more thoroughly toexamine the contents of the cabinet. At one table, there weretraces of chemical work, various measured heaps of some whitesalt being laid on glass saucers, as though for an experiment inwhich the unhappy man had been prevented.

"That is the same drug that I was always bringing him," saidPoole; and even as he spoke, the kettle with a startling noiseboiled over.

This brought them to the fireside, where the easy-chair was drawncosily up, and the tea-things stood ready to the sitter's elbow,the very sugar in the cup. There were several books on a shelf;one lay beside the tea-things open, and Utterson was amazed tofind it a copy of a pious work, for which Jekyll had severaltimes expressed a great esteem, annotated, in his own hand, withstartling blasphemies.

Next, in the course of their review of the chamber, the searcherscame to the cheval glass, into whose depths they looked with aninvoluntary horror. But it was so turned as to show them nothingbut the rosy glow playing on the roof, the fire sparkling in ahundred repetitions along the glazed front of the presses, andtheir own pale and fearful countenances stooping to look in.

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"This glass have seen some strange things, sir," whispered Poole.

"And surely none stranger than itself," echoed the lawyer in thesame tones. "For what did Jekyll"--he caught himself up at theword with a start, and then conquering the weakness--"whatcould Jekyll want with it?" he said.

"You may say that!" said Poole. Next they turned to thebusiness-table. On the desk among the neat array of papers, alarge envelope was uppermost, and bore, in the doctor's hand, thename of Mr. Utterson. The lawyer unsealed it, and severalenclosures fell to the floor. The first was a will, drawn in thesame eccentric terms as the one which he had returned six monthsbefore, to serve as a testament in case of death and as a deed ofgift in case of disappearance; but, in place of the name ofEdward Hyde, the lawyer, with indescribable amazement, read thename of Gabriel John Utterson. He looked at Poole, and then backat the paper, and last of all at the dead malefactor stretchedupon the carpet.

"My head goes round," he said. "He has been all these days inpossession; he had no cause to like me; he must have raged to seehimself displaced; and he has not destroyed this document."

He caught up the next paper; it was a brief note in the doctor'shand and dated at the top.

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"O Poole!" the lawyer cried, "he was alive and here this day. Hecannot have been disposed of in so short a space, he must bestill alive, he must have fled! And then, why fled? and how? andin that case, can we venture to declare this suicide? Oh, we mustbe careful. I foresee that we may yet involve your master in somedire catastrophe."

"Why don't you read it, sir?" asked Poole.

"Because I fear," replied the lawyer solemnly. "God grant I haveno cause for it!" And with that he brought the paper to his eyesand read as follows:

"MY DEAR UTTERSON,--When this shall fall into your hands, Ishall have disappeared, under what circumstances I have not thepenetration to foresee, but my instinct and all the circumstances

of my nameless situation tell me that the end is sure and must beearly. Go then, and first read the narrative which Lanyon warnedme he was to place in your hands; and if you care to hear more,turn to the confession of

"Your unworthy and unhappy friend, "HENRY JEKYLL."

"There was a third enclosure?" asked Utterson.

"Here, sir," said Poole, and gave into his hands a considerablepacket sealed in several places.

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The lawyer put it in his pocket. "I would say nothing of thispaper. If your master has fled or is dead, we may at least savehis credit. It is now ten; I must go home and read thesedocuments in quiet; but I shall be back before midnight, when weshall send for the police."

They went out, locking the door of the theatre behind them; andUtterson, once more leaving the servants gathered about the firein the hall, trudged back to his office to read the twonarratives in which this mystery was now to be explained.

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DR. LANYON'S NARRATIVE

ON the ninth of January, now four days ago, I received by theevening delivery a registered envelope, addressed in the hand ofmy colleague and old school-companion, Henry Jekyll. I was a gooddeal surprised by this; for we were by no means in the habit ofcorrespondence; I had seen the man, dined with him, indeed, thenight before; and I could imagine nothing in our intercourse thatshould justify formality of registration. The contents increasedmy wonder; for this is how the letter ran:

"10th December, 18---

"DEAR LANYON, You are one of my oldest friends; and although wemay have differed at times on scientific questions, I cannotremember, at least on my side, any break in our affection. There

was never a day when, if you had said to me, 'Jekyll, my life, myhonour, my reason, depend upon you,' I would not have sacrificedmy left hand to help you. Lanyon, my life, my honour my reason,are all at your mercy;

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if you fail me to-night I am lost. You might suppose, after thispreface, that I am going to ask you for something dishonourableto grant. Judge for yourself.

"I want you to postpone all other engagements for to-night--ay,even if you were summoned to the bedside of an emperor; to take acab, unless your carriage should be actually at the door; andwith this letter in your hand for consultation, to drive straightto my house. Poole, my butler, has his orders; you will find, himwaiting your arrival with a locksmith. The door of my cabinet isthen to be forced: and you are to go in alone; to open the glazedpress (letter E) on the left hand, breaking the lock if it beshut; and to draw out, with all its contents as they stand, thefourth drawer from the top or (which is the same thing) the thirdfrom the bottom. In my extreme distress of wind, I have a morbidfear of misdirecting you; but even if I am in error, you may knowthe right drawer by its contents: some powders, a phial and apaper book. This drawer I beg of you to carry back with you toCavendish Square exactly as it stands.

"That is the first part of the service: now for the second. Youshould be back, if you set out at once on the receipt of this,long before midnight; but I will leave you that amount of margin,not only in the fear of one of those obstacles that can neitherbe prevented nor fore-

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seen, but because an hour when your servants are in bed is to bepreferred for what will then remain to do. At midnight, then, Ihave to ask you to be alone in your consulting-room, to admitwith your own hand into the house a man who will present himselfin my name, and to place in his hands the drawer that you willhave brought with you from my cabinet. Then you will have playedyour part and earned my gratitude completely. Five minutesafterwards, if you insist upon an explanation, you will haveunderstood that these arrangements are of capital importance; andthat by the neglect of one of them, fantastic as they mustappear, you might have charged your conscience with my death orthe shipwreck of my reason.

"Confident as I am that you will not trifle with this appeal, myheart sinks and my hand trembles at the bare thought of such apossibility. Think of me at this hour, in a strange place,labouring under a blackness of distress that no fancy canexaggerate, and yet well aware that, if you will but punctuallyserve me, my troubles will roll away like a story that is told.Serve me, my dear Lanyon, and save "Your friend,

"H. J.

"P. S. I had already sealed this up when a fresh terror struckupon my soul. It is possible that the postoffice may fail me, andthis letter

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not come into your hands until to-morrow morning. In that case,dear Lanyon, do my errand when it shall be most convenient foryou in the course of the day; and once more expect my messengerat midnight. It may then already be too late; and if that nightpasses without event, you will know that you have seen the lastof Henry Jekyll."

Upon the reading of this letter, I made sure my colleague wasinsane; but till that was proved beyond the possibility of doubt,I felt bound to do as he requested. The less I understood of thisfarrago, the less I was in a position to judge of its importance;and an appeal so worded could not be set aside without a graveresponsibility. I rose accordingly from table, got into a hansom,and drove straight to Jekyll's house. The butler was awaiting myarrival; he had received by the same post as mine a registeredletter of instruction, and had sent at once for a locksmith and acarpenter. The tradesmen came while we were yet speaking; and wemoved in a body to old Dr. Denman's surgical theatre, from which(as you are doubtless aware) Jekyll's private cabinet is mostconveniently entered. The door was very strong, the lockexcellent; the carpenter avowed he would have great trouble andhave to do much damage, if force were to be used; and thelocksmith was near despair. But this last was a handy fellow,

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and after two hours' work, the door stood open. The press markedE was unlocked; and I took out the drawer, had it filled up with

straw and tied in a sheet, and returned with it to CavendishSquare.

Here I proceeded to examine its contents. The powders were neatlyenough made up, but not with the nicety of the dispensingchemist; so that it was plain they were of Jekyll's privatemanufacture; and when I opened one of the wrappers I found whatseemed to me a simple crystalline salt of a white colour. Thephial, to which I next turned my attention, might have been abouthalf-full of a blood-red liquor, which was highly pungent to thesense of smell and seemed to me to contain phosphorus and somevolatile ether. At the other ingredients I could make no guess.The book was an ordinary version-book and contained little but aseries of dates. These covered a period of many years, but Iobserved that the entries ceased nearly a year ago and quiteabruptly. Here and there a brief remark was appended to a date,usually no more than a single word: "double" occurring perhapssix times in a total of several hundred entries; and once veryearly in the list and followed by several marks of exclamation,"total failure!!!" All this, though it whetted my curiosity, toldme little that was definite. Here were a phial of some tincture,a paper of some salt, and the record of a series of experi-

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ments that had led (like too many of Jekyll's investigations) tono end of practical usefulness. How could the presence of thesearticles in my house affect either the honour, the sanity, or thelife of my flighty colleague? If his messenger could go to oneplace, why could he not go to another? And even granting someimpediment, why was this gentleman to be received by me insecret? The more I reflected the more convinced I grew that I wasdealing with a case of cerebral disease: and though I dismissedmy servants to bed, I loaded an old revolver, that I might befound in some posture of self-defence.

Twelve o'clock had scarce rung out over London, ere the knockersounded very gently on the door. I went myself at the summons,and found a small man crouching against the pillars of theportico.

"Are you come from Dr. Jekyll?" I asked.

He told me "yes" by a constrained gesture; and when I had biddenhim enter, he did not obey me without a searching backward glanceinto the darkness of the square. There was a policeman not faroff, advancing with his bull's eye open; and at the sight, I

thought my visitor started and made greater haste.

These particulars struck me, I confess, disagreeably; and as Ifollowed him into the bright light of the consulting-room, I keptmy hand ready on my weapon. Here, at last, I had a

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chance of clearly seeing him. I had never set eyes on him before,so much was certain. He was small, as I have said; I was struckbesides with the shocking expression of his face, with hisremarkable combination of great muscular activity and greatapparent debility of constitution, and--last but not least--with the odd, subjective disturbance caused by his neighbourhood.This bore some resemblance to incipient rigour, and wasaccompanied by a marked sinking of the pulse. At the time, I setit down to some idiosyncratic, personal distaste, and merelywondered at the acuteness of the symptoms; but I have since hadreason to believe the cause to lie much deeper in the nature ofman, and to turn on some nobler hinge than the principle ofhatred.

This person (who had thus, from the first moment of his entrance,struck in me what I can only describe as a disgustful curiosity)was dressed in a fashion that would have made an ordinary personlaughable; his clothes, that is to say, although they were ofrich and sober fabric, were enormously too large for him in everymeasurement--the trousers hanging on his legs and rolled up tokeep them from the ground, the waist of the coat below hishaunches, and the collar sprawling wide upon his shoulders.Strange to relate, this ludicrous accoutrement was far frommoving me to laughter. Rather, as there was something abnormaland misbe-

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gotten in the very essence of the creature that now faced me--something seizing, surprising, and revolting--this freshdisparity seemed but to fit in with and to reinforce it; so thatto my interest in the man's nature and character, there was addeda curiosity as to his origin, his life, his fortune and status inthe world.

These observations, though they have taken so great a space to beset down in, were yet the work of a few seconds. My visitor was,indeed, on fire with sombre excitement.

"Have you got it?" he cried. "Have you got it?" And so lively washis impatience that he even laid his hand upon my arm and soughtto shake me.

I put him back, conscious at his touch of a certain icy pangalong my blood. "Come, sir," said I. "You forget that I have notyet the pleasure of your acquaintance. Be seated, if you please."And I showed him an example, and sat down myself in my customaryseat and with as fair an imitation of my ordinary manner to apatient, as the lateness of the hour, the nature of mypre-occupations, and the horror I had of my visitor, would sufferme to muster.

"I beg your pardon, Dr. Lanyon," he replied civilly enough. "Whatyou say is very well founded; and my impatience has shown itsheels to my politeness. I come here at the instance of yourcolleague, Dr. Henry Jekyll, on a piece of business of somemoment; and I under-

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stood..." He paused and put his hand to his throat, and I couldsee, in spite of his collected manner, that he was wrestlingagainst the approaches of the hysteria--"I understood, adrawer..."

But here I took pity on my visitor's suspense, and some perhapson my own growing curiosity.

"There it is, sir," said I, pointing to the drawer, where it layon the floor behind a table and still covered with the sheet.

He sprang to it, and then paused, and laid his hand upon hisheart: I could hear his teeth grate with the convulsive action ofhis jaws; and his face was so ghastly to see that I grew alarmedboth for his life and reason.

"Compose yourself," said I.

He turned a dreadful smile to me, and as if with the decision ofdespair, plucked away the sheet. At sight of the contents, heuttered one loud sob of such immense relief that I sat petrified.And the next moment, in a voice that was already fairly wellunder control, "Have you a graduated glass?" he asked.

I rose from my place with something of an effort and gave himwhat he asked.

He thanked me with a smiling nod, measured out a few minims ofthe red tincture and added one of the powders. The mixture, whichwas at first of a reddish hue, began, in proportion as thecrystals melted, to brighten in colour, to effervesce audibly,and to throw off small

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fumes of vapour. Suddenly and at the same moment, the ebullitionceased and the compound changed to a dark purple, which fadedagain more slowly to a watery green. My visitor, who had watchedthese metamorphoses with a keen eye, smiled, set down the glassupon the table, and then turned and looked upon me with an air ofscrutiny.

"And now," said he, "to settle what remains. Will you be wise?will you be guided? will you suffer me to take this glass in myhand and to go forth from your house without further parley? orhas the greed of curiosity too much command of you? Think beforeyou answer, for it shall be done as you decide. As you decide,you shall be left as you were before, and neither richer norwiser, unless the sense of service rendered to a man in mortaldistress may be counted as a kind of riches of the soul. Or, ifyou shall so prefer to choose, a new province of knowledge andnew avenues to fame and power shall be laid open to you, here, inthis room, upon the instant; and your sight shall be blasted by aprodigy to stagger the unbelief of Satan."

"Sir," said I, affecting a coolness that I was far from trulypossessing, "you speak enigmas, and you will perhaps not wonderthat I hear you with no very strong impression of belief. But Ihave gone too far in the way of inexplicable services to pausebefore I see the end."

"It is well," replied my visitor. "Lanyon,

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you remember your vows: what follows is under the seal of ourprofession. And now, you who have so long been bound to the mostnarrow and material views, you who have denied the virtue oftranscendental medicine, you who have derided your superiors--behold!"

He put the glass to his lips and drank at one gulp. A cryfollowed; he reeled, staggered, clutched at the table and held

on, staring with injected eyes, gasping with open mouth; and as Ilooked there came, I thought, a change--he seemed to swell--his face became suddenly black and the features seemed to meltand alter--and the next moment, I had sprung to my feet andleaped back against the wall, my arm raised to shield me fromthat prodigy, my mind submerged in terror.

"O God!" I screamed, and "O God!" again and again; for therebefore my eyes--pale and shaken, and half-fainting, and gropingbefore him with his hands, like a man restored from death--there stood Henry Jekyll!

What he told me in the next hour, I cannot bring my mind to seton paper. I saw what I saw, I heard what I heard, and my soulsickened at it; and yet now when that sight has faded from myeyes, I ask myself if I believe it, and I cannot answer. My lifeis shaken to its roots; sleep has left me; the deadliest terrorsits by me at all hours of the day and night; I feel that my daysare numbered, and that I

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must die; and yet I shall die incredulous. As for the moralturpitude that man unveiled to me, even with tears of penitence,I cannot, even in memory, dwell on it without a start of horror.I will say but one thing, Utterson, and that (if you can bringyour mind to credit it) will be more than enough. The creaturewho crept into my house that night was, on Jekyll's ownconfession, known by the name of Hyde and hunted for in everycorner of the land as the murderer of Carew. HASTIE LANYON

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HENRY JEKYLL'S FULL STATEMENT OF THE CASE

I WAS born in the year 18--- to a large fortune, endowed besideswith excellent parts, inclined by nature to industry, fond of therespect of the wise and good among my fellow-men, and thus, asmight have been supposed, with every guarantee of an honourableand distinguished future. And indeed the worst of my faults was acertain impatient gaiety of disposition, such as has made thehappiness of many, but such as I found it hard to reconcile withmy imperious desire to carry my head high, and wear a more thancommonly grave countenance before the public. Hence it came about

that I concealed my pleasures; and that when I reached years ofreflection, and began to look round me and take stock of myprogress and position in the world, I stood already committed toa profound duplicity of life. Many a man would have even blazonedsuch irregularities as I was guilty of; but from the high viewsthat I had set before me, I regarded and hid them with an almostmorbid sense of shame. It was thus rather the exacting

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nature of my aspirations than any particular degradation in myfaults, that made me what I was and, with even a deeper trenchthan in the majority of men, severed in me those provinces ofgood and ill which divide and compound man's dual nature. In thiscase, I was driven to reflect deeply and inveterately on thathard law of life, which lies at the root of religion and is oneof the most plentiful springs of distress. Though so profound adouble-dealer, I was in no sense a hypocrite; both sides of mewere in dead earnest; I was no more myself when I laid asiderestraint and plunged in shame, than when I laboured, in the eyeof day, at the furtherance of knowledge or the relief of sorrowand suffering. And it chanced that the direction of my scientificstudies, which led wholly toward the mystic and thetranscendental, re-acted and shed a strong light on thisconsciousness of the perennial war among my members. With everyday, and from both sides of my intelligence, the moral and theintellectual, I thus drew steadily nearer to that truth, by whosepartial discovery I have been doomed to such a dreadfulshipwreck: that man is not truly one, but truly two. I say two,because the state of my own knowledge does not pass beyond thatpoint. Others will follow, others will outstrip me on the samelines; and I hazard the guess that man will be ultimately knownfor a mere polity of multifarious, incongruous, and independentdenizens. I, for my

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part, from the nature of my life, advanced infallibly in onedirection and in one direction only. It was on the moral side,and in my own person, that I learned to recognise the thoroughand primitive duality of man; I saw that, of the two natures thatcontended in the field of my consciousness, even if I couldrightly be said to be either, it was only because I was radicallyboth; and from an early date, even before the course of myscientific discoveries had begun to suggest the most nakedpossibility of such a miracle, I had learned to dwell withpleasure, as a beloved day-dream, on the thought of the

separation of these elements. If each, I told myself, could butbe housed in separate identities, life would be relieved of allthat was unbearable; the unjust delivered from the aspirationsmight go his way, and remorse of his more upright twin; and thejust could walk steadfastly and securely on his upward path,doing the good things in which he found his pleasure, and nolonger exposed to disgrace and penitence by the hands of thisextraneous evil. It was the curse of mankind that theseincongruous fagots were thus bound together that in the agonisedwomb of consciousness, these polar twins should be continuouslystruggling. How, then, were they dissociated?

I was so far in my reflections when, as I have said, a side-lightbegan to shine upon the subject from the laboratory table. Ibegan to perceive

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more deeply than it has ever yet been stated, the tremblingimmateriality, the mist-like transience of this seemingly sosolid body in which we walk attired. Certain agents I found tohave the power to shake and to pluck back that fleshly vestment,even as a wind might toss the curtains of a pavilion. For twogood reasons, I will not enter deeply into this scientific branchof my confession. First, because I have been made to learn thatthe doom and burthen of our life is bound for ever on man'sshoulders, and when the attempt is made to cast it off, it butreturns upon us with more unfamiliar and more awful pressure.Second, because, as my narrative will make, alas! too evident, mydiscoveries were incomplete. Enough, then, that I not onlyrecognised my natural body for the mere aura and effulgence ofcertain of the powers that made up my spirit, but managed tocompound a drug by which these powers should be dethroned fromtheir supremacy, and a second form and countenance substituted,none the less natural to me because they were the expression, andbore the stamp, of lower elements in my soul.

I hesitated long before I put this theory to the test ofpractice. I knew well that I risked death; for any drug that sopotently controlled and shook the very fortress of identity,might by the least scruple of an overdose or at the leastinopportunity in the moment of exhibition, utterly blot out thatimmaterial tabernacle which I

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looked to it to change. But the temptation of a discovery so

singular and profound, at last overcame the suggestions of alarm.I had long since prepared my tincture; I purchased at once, froma firm of wholesale chemists, a large quantity of a particularsalt which I knew, from my experiments, to be the last ingredientrequired; and late one accursed night, I compounded the elements,watched them boil and smoke together in the glass, and when theebullition had subsided, with a strong glow of courage, drank offthe potion.

The most racking pangs succeeded: a grinding in the bones, deadlynausea, and a horror of the spirit that cannot be exceeded at thehour of birth or death. Then these agonies began swiftly tosubside, and I came to myself as if out of a great sickness.There was something strange in my sensations, somethingindescribably new and, from its very novelty, incredibly sweet. Ifelt younger, lighter, happier in body; within I was conscious ofa heady recklessness, a current of disordered sensual imagesrunning like a mill-race in my fancy, a solution of the bonds ofobligation, an unknown but not an innocent freedom of the soul. Iknew myself, at the first breath of this new life, to be morewicked, tenfold more wicked, sold a slave to my original evil;and the thought, in that moment, braced and delighted me likewine. I stretched out my hands, exulting in the freshness ofthese

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sensations; and in the act, I was suddenly aware that I had lostin stature.

There was no mirror, at that date, in my room; that which standsbeside me as I write, was brought there later on and for the verypurpose of these transformations. The night, however, was fargone into the morning--the morning, black as it was, was nearlyripe for the conception of the day--the inmates of my housewere locked in the most rigorous hours of slumber; and Idetermined, flushed as I was with hope and triumph, to venture inmy new shape as far as to my bedroom. I crossed the yard, whereinthe constellations looked down upon me, I could have thought,with wonder, the first creature of that sort that theirunsleeping vigilance had yet disclosed to them; I stole throughthe corridors, a stranger in my own house; and coming to my room,I saw for the first time the appearance of Edward Hyde.

I must here speak by theory alone, saying not that which I know,but that which I suppose to be most probable. The evil side of mynature, to which I had now transferred the stamping efficacy, was

less robust and less developed than the good which I had justdeposed. Again, in the course of my life, which had been, afterall, nine-tenths a life of effort, virtue, and control, it hadbeen much less exercised and much less exhausted. And hence, as Ithink, it came about that Edward Hyde was so much smaller,

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slighter, and younger than Henry Jekyll. Even as good shone uponthe countenance of the one, evil was written broadly and plainlyon the face of the other. Evil besides (which I must stillbelieve to be the lethal side of man) had left on that body animprint of deformity and decay. And yet when I looked upon thatugly idol in the glass, I was conscious of no repugnance, ratherof a leap of welcome. This, too, was myself. It seemed naturaland human. In my eyes it bore a livelier image of the spirit, itseemed more express and single, than the imperfect and dividedcountenance I had been hitherto accustomed to call mine. And inso far I was doubtless right. I have observed that when I worethe semblance of Edward Hyde, none could come near to me at firstwithout a visible misgiving of the flesh. This, as I take it, wasbecause all human beings, as we meet them, are commingled out ofgood and evil: and Edward Hyde, alone in the ranks of mankind,was pure evil.

I lingered but a moment at the mirror: the second and conclusiveexperiment had yet to be attempted; it yet remained to be seen ifI had lost my identity beyond redemption and must flee beforedaylight from a house that was no longer mine; and hurrying backto my cabinet, I once more prepared and drank the cup, once moresuffered the pangs of dissolution, and came to myself once morewith the character, the stature, and the face of Henry Jekyll.

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That night I had come to the fatal cross-roads. Had I approachedmy discovery in a more noble spirit, had I risked the experimentwhile under the empire of generous or pious aspirations, all musthave been otherwise, and from these agonies of death and birth, Ihad come forth an angel instead of a fiend. The drug had nodiscriminating action; it was neither diabolical nor divine; itbut shook the doors of the prison-house of my disposition; andlike the captives of Philippi, that which stood within ran forth.At that time my virtue slumbered; my evil, kept awake byambition, was alert and swift to seize the occasion; and thething that was projected was Edward Hyde. Hence, although I hadnow two characters as well as two appearances, one was wholly

evil, and the other was still the old Henry Jekyll, thatincongruous compound of whose reformation and improvement I hadalready learned to despair. The movement was thus wholly towardthe worse.

Even at that time, I had not yet conquered my aversion to thedryness of a life of study. I would still be merrily disposed attimes; and as my pleasures were (to say the least) undignified,and I was not only well known and highly considered, but growingtoward the elderly man, this incoherency of my life was dailygrowing more unwelcome. It was on this side that my new powertempted me until I fell in slavery. I had but to drink the cup,to doff at once the body

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of the noted professor, and to assume, like a thick cloak, thatof Edward Hyde. I smiled at the notion; it seemed to me at thetime to be humorous; and I made my preparations with the moststudious care. I took and furnished that house in Soho, to whichHyde was tracked by the police; and engaged as housekeeper acreature whom I well knew to be silent and unscrupulous. On theother side, I announced to my servants that a Mr. Hyde (whom Idescribed) was to have full liberty and power about my house inthe square; and to parry mishaps, I even called and made myself afamiliar object, in my second character. I next drew up that willto which you so much objected; so that if anything befell me inthe person of Dr. Jekyll, I could enter on that of Edward Hydewithout pecuniary loss. And thus fortified, as I supposed, onevery side, I began to profit by the strange immunities of myposition.

Men have before hired bravos to transact their crimes, whiletheir own person and reputation sat under shelter. I was thefirst that ever did so for his pleasures. I was the first thatcould thus plod in the public eye with a load of genialrespectability, and in a moment, like a schoolboy, strip offthese lendings and spring headlong into the sea of liberty. Butfor me, in my impenetrable mantle, the safety was complete. Thinkof it--I did not even exist! Let me but escape into mylaboratory door, give me but a second or

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two to mix and swallow the draught that I had always standingready; and whatever he had done, Edward Hyde would pass away likethe stain of breath upon a mirror; and there in his stead,

quietly at home, trimming the midnight lamp in his study, a manwho could afford to laugh at suspicion, would be Henry Jekyll.

The pleasures which I made haste to seek in my disguise were, asI have said, undignified; I would scarce use a harder term. Butin the hands of Edward Hyde, they soon began to turn toward themonstrous. When I would come back from these excursions, I wasoften plunged into a kind of wonder at my vicarious depravity.This familiar that I called out of my own soul, and sent forthalone to do his good pleasure, was a being inherently malign andvillainous; his every act and thought centred on self; drinkingpleasure with bestial avidity from any degree of torture toanother; relentless like a man of stone. Henry Jekyll stood attimes aghast before the acts of Edward Hyde; but the situationwas apart from ordinary laws, and insidiously relaxed the graspof conscience. It was Hyde, after all, and Hyde alone, that wasguilty. Jekyll was no worse; he woke again to his good qualitiesseemingly unimpaired; he would even make haste, where it waspossible, to undo the evil done by Hyde. And thus his conscienceslumbered.

Into the details of the infamy at which I thus

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connived (for even now I can scarce grant that I committed it) Ihave no design of entering; I mean but to point out the warningsand the successive steps with which my chastisement approached. Imet with one accident which, as it brought on no consequence, Ishall no more than mention. An act of cruelty to a child arousedagainst me the anger of a passer-by, whom I recognised the otherday in the person of your kinsman; the doctor and the child'sfamily joined him; there were moments when I feared for my life;and at last, in order to pacify their too just resentment, EdwardHyde had to bring them to the door, and pay them in a chequedrawn in the name of Henry Jekyll. But this danger was easilyeliminated from the future, by opening an account at another bankin the name of Edward Hyde himself; and when, by sloping my ownhand backward, I had supplied my double with a signature, Ithought I sat beyond the reach of fate.

Some two months before the murder of Sir Danvers, I had been outfor one of my adventures, had returned at a late hour, and wokethe next day in bed with somewhat odd sensations. It was in vainI looked about me; in vain I saw the decent furniture and tallproportions of my room in the square; in vain that I recognisedthe pattern of the bed-curtains and the design of the mahogany

frame; something still kept insisting that I was not where I was,

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that I had not wakened where I seemed to be, but in the littleroom in Soho where I was accustomed to sleep in the body ofEdward Hyde. I smiled to myself, and, in my psychological waybegan lazily to inquire into the elements of this illusion,occasionally, even as I did so, dropping back into a comfortablemorning doze. I was still so engaged when, in one of my morewakeful moments, my eyes fell upon my hand. Now the hand of HenryJekyll (as you have often remarked) was professional in shape andsize: it was large, firm, white, and comely. But the hand which Inow saw, clearly enough, in the yellow light of a mid-Londonmorning, lying half shut on the bed-clothes, was lean, corded,knuckly, of a dusky pallor and thickly shaded with a swart growthof hair. It was the hand of Edward Hyde.

I must have stared upon it for near half a minute, sunk as I wasin the mere stupidity of wonder, before terror woke up in mybreast as sudden and startling as the crash of cymbals; andbounding from my bed, I rushed to the mirror. At the sight thatmet my eyes, my blood was changed into something exquisitely thinand icy. Yes, I had gone to bed Henry Jekyll, I had awakenedEdward Hyde. How was this to be explained? I asked myself, andthen, with another bound of terror--how was it to be remedied?It was well on in the morning; the servants were up; all my drugswere in the

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cabinet--a long journey down two pairs of stairs, through theback passage, across the open court and through the anatomicaltheatre, from where I was then standing horror-struck. It mightindeed be possible to cover my face; but of what use was that,when I was unable to conceal the alteration in my stature? Andthen with an overpowering sweetness of relief, it came back uponmy mind that the servants were already used to the coming andgoing of my second self. I had soon dressed, as well as I wasable, in clothes of my own size: had soon passed through thehouse, where Bradshaw stared and drew back at seeing Mr. Hyde atsuch an hour and in such a strange array; and ten minutes later,Dr. Jekyll had returned to his own shape and was sitting down,with a darkened brow, to make a feint of breakfasting.

Small indeed was my appetite. This inexplicable incident, thisreversal of my previous experience, seemed, like the Babylonian

finger on the wall, to be spelling out the letters of myjudgment; and I began to reflect more seriously than ever beforeon the issues and possibilities of my double existence. That partof me which I had the power of projecting, had lately been muchexercised and nourished; it had seemed to me of late as thoughthe body of Edward Hyde had grown in stature, as though (when Iwore that form) I were conscious of a more generous tide ofblood; and I began to spy a danger that,

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if this were much prolonged, the balance of my nature might bepermanently overthrown, the power of voluntary change beforfeited, and the character of Edward Hyde become irrevocablymine. The power of the drug had not been always equallydisplayed. Once, very early in my career, it had totally failedme; since then I had been obliged on more than one occasion todouble, and once, with infinite risk of death, to treble theamount; and these rare uncertainties had cast hitherto the soleshadow on my contentment. Now, however, and in the light of thatmorning's accident, I was led to remark that whereas, in thebeginning, the difficulty had been to throw off the body ofJekyll, it had of late gradually but decidedly transferred itselfto the other side. All things therefore seemed to point to this:that I was slowly losing hold of my original and better self, andbecoming slowly incorporated with my second and worse.

Between these two, I now felt I had to choose. My two natures hadmemory in common, but all other faculties were most unequallyshared between them. Jekyll (who was composite) now with the mostsensitive apprehensions, now with a greedy gusto, projected andshared in the pleasures and adventures of Hyde; but Hyde wasindifferent to Jekyll, or but remembered him as the mountainbandit remembers the cavern in which he conceals himself frompursuit. Jekyll had more than a father's interest; Hyde

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had more than a son's indifference. To cast in my lot withJekyll, was to die to those appetites which I had long secretlyindulged and had of late begun to pamper. To cast it in withHyde, was to die to a thousand interests and aspirations, and tobecome, at a blow and for ever, despised and friendless. Thebargain might appear unequal; but there was still anotherconsideration in the scales; for while Jekyll would suffersmartingly in the fires of abstinence, Hyde would be not evenconscious of all that he had lost. Strange as my circumstances

were, the terms of this debate are as old and commonplace as man;much the same inducements and alarms cast the die for any temptedand trembling sinner; and it fell out with me, as it falls withso vast a majority of my fellows, that I chose the better partand was found wanting in the strength to keep to it.

Yes, I preferred the elderly and discontented doctor, surroundedby friends and cherishing honest hopes; and bade a resolutefarewell to the liberty, the comparative youth, the light step,leaping impulses and secret pleasures, that I had enjoyed in thedisguise of Hyde. I made this choice perhaps with someunconscious reservation, for I neither gave up the house in Soho,nor destroyed the clothes of Edward Hyde, which still lay readyin my cabinet. For two months, however, I was true to mydetermination; for two months I led a life of such

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severity as I had never before attained to, and enjoyed thecompensations of an approving conscience. But time began at lastto obliterate the freshness of my alarm; the praises ofconscience began to grow into a thing of course; I began to betortured with throes and longings, as of Hyde struggling afterfreedom; and at last, in an hour of moral weakness, I once againcompounded and swallowed the transforming draught.

I do not suppose that, when a drunkard reasons with himself uponhis vice, he is once out of five hundred times affected by thedangers that he runs through his brutish, physical insensibility;neither had I, long as I had considered my position, made enoughallowance for the complete moral insensibility and insensatereadiness to evil, which were the leading characters of EdwardHyde. Yet it was by these that I was punished. My devil had beenlong caged, he came out roaring. I was conscious, even when Itook the draught, of a more unbridled, a more furious propensityto ill. It must have been this, I suppose, that stirred in mysoul that tempest of impatience with which I listened to thecivilities of my unhappy victim; I declare, at least, before God,no man morally sane could have been guilty of that crime upon sopitiful a provocation; and that I struck in no more reasonablespirit than that in which a sick child may break a plaything. ButI had voluntarily stripped myself of all those balancinginstincts

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by which even the worst of us continues to walk with some degree

of steadiness among temptations; and in my case, to be tempted,however slightly, was to fall.

Instantly the spirit of hell awoke in me and raged. With atransport of glee, I mauled the unresisting body, tasting delightfrom every blow; and it was not till weariness had begun tosucceed, that I was suddenly, in the top fit of my delirium,struck through the heart by a cold thrill of terror. A mistdispersed; I saw my life to be forfeit; and fled from the sceneof these excesses, at once glorying and trembling, my lust ofevil gratified and stimulated, my love of life screwed to thetopmost peg. I ran to the house in Soho, and (to make assurancedoubly sure) destroyed my papers; thence I set out through thelamplit streets, in the same divided ecstasy of mind, gloating onmy crime, light-headedly devising others in the future, and yetstill hastening and still hearkening in my wake for the steps ofthe avenger. Hyde had a song upon his lips as he compounded thedraught, and as he drank it, pledged the dead man. The pangs oftransformation had not done tearing him, before Henry Jekyll,with streaming tears of gratitude and remorse, had fallen uponhis knees and lifted his clasped hands to God. The veil ofself-indulgence was rent from head to foot, I saw my life as awhole: I followed it up from the days of childhood, when I hadwalked

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with my father's hand, and through the self-denying toils of myprofessional life, to arrive again and again, with the same senseof unreality, at the damned horrors of the evening. I could havescreamed aloud; I sought with tears and prayers to smother downthe crowd of hideous images and sounds with which my memoryswarmed against me; and still, between the petitions, the uglyface of my iniquity stared into my soul. As the acuteness of thisremorse began to die away, it was succeeded by a sense of joy.The problem of my conduct was solved. Hyde was thenceforthimpossible; whether I would or not, I was now confined to thebetter part of my existence; and oh, how I rejoiced to think it!with what willing humility, I embraced anew the restrictions ofnatural life! with what sincere renunciation, I locked the doorby which I had so often gone and come, and ground the key undermy heel!

The next day, came the news that the murder had been overlooked,that the guilt of Hyde was patent to the world, and that thevictim was a man high in public estimation. It was not only acrime, it had been a tragic folly. I think I was glad to know it;

I think I was glad to have my better impulses thus buttressed andguarded by the terrors of the scaffold. Jekyll was now my city ofrefuge; let but Hyde peep out an instant, and the hands of allmen would be raised to take and slay him.

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I resolved in my future conduct to redeem the past; and I can saywith honesty that my resolve was fruitful of some good. You knowyourself how earnestly in the last months of last year, Ilaboured to relieve suffering; you know that much was done forothers, and that the days passed quietly, almost happily formyself. Nor can I truly say that I wearied of this beneficent andinnocent life; I think instead that I daily enjoyed it morecompletely; but I was still cursed with my duality of purpose;and as the first edge of my penitence wore off, the lower side ofme, so long indulged, so recently chained down, began to growlfor licence. Not that I dreamed of resuscitating Hyde; the bareidea of that would startle me to frenzy: no, it was in my ownperson, that I was once more tempted to trifle with myconscience; and it was as an ordinary secret sinner, that I atlast fell before the assaults of temptation.

There comes an end to all things; the most capacious measure isfilled at last; and this brief condescension to evil finallydestroyed the balance of my soul. And yet I was not alarmed; thefall seemed natural, like a return to the old days before I hadmade discovery. It was a fine, clear, January day, wet under footwhere the frost had melted, but cloudless overhead; and theRegent's Park was full of winter chirrupings and sweet withspring odours. I sat in the sun on a bench; the animal within melicking the

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chops of memory; the spiritual side a little drowsed, promisingsubsequent penitence, but not yet moved to begin. After all, Ireflected, I was like my neighbours; and then I smiled, comparingmyself with other men, comparing my active goodwill with the lazycruelty of their neglect. And at the very moment of thatvain-glorious thought, a qualm came over me, a horrid nausea andthe most deadly shuddering. These passed away, and left me faint;and then as in its turn the faintness subsided, I began to beaware of a change in the temper of my thoughts, a greaterboldness, a contempt of danger, a solution of the bonds ofobligation. I looked down; my clothes hung formlessly on myshrunken limbs; the hand that lay on my knee was corded and

hairy. I was once more Edward Hyde. A moment before I had beensafe of all men's respect, wealthy, beloved--the cloth layingfor me in the dining-room at home; and now I was the commonquarry of mankind, hunted, houseless, a known murderer, thrall tothe gallows.

My reason wavered, but it did not fail me utterly. I have morethan once observed that, in my second character, my facultiesseemed sharpened to a point and my spirits more tensely elastic;thus it came about that, where Jekyll perhaps might havesuccumbed, Hyde rose to the importance of the moment. My drugswere in one of the presses of my cabinet; how was I

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to reach them? That was the problem that (crushing my temples inmy hands) I set myself to solve. The laboratory door I hadclosed. If I sought to enter by the house, my own servants wouldconsign me to the gallows. I saw I must employ another hand, andthought of Lanyon. How was he to be reached? how persuaded?Supposing that I escaped capture in the streets, how was I tomake my way into his presence? and how should I, an unknown anddispleasing visitor, prevail on the famous physician to rifle thestudy of his colleague, Dr. Jekyll? Then I remembered that of myoriginal character, one part remained to me: I could write my ownhand; and once I had conceived that kindling spark, the way thatI must follow became lighted up from end to end.

Thereupon, I arranged my clothes as best I could, and summoninga passing hansom, drove to an hotel in Portland Street, the nameof which I chanced to remember. At my appearance (which wasindeed comical enough, however tragic a fate these garmentscovered) the driver could not conceal his mirth. I gnashed myteeth upon him with a gust of devilish fury; and the smilewithered from his face--happily for him--yet more happily formyself, for in another instant I had certainly dragged him fromhis perch. At the inn, as I entered, I looked about me with soblack a countenance as made the attendants tremble; not a lookdid they exchange in my

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presence; but obsequiously took my orders, led me to a privateroom, and brought me wherewithal to write. Hyde in danger of hislife was a creature new to me; shaken with inordinate anger,strung to the pitch of murder, lusting to inflict pain. Yet thecreature was astute; mastered his fury with a great effort of the

will; composed his two important letters, one to Lanyon and oneto Poole; and that he might receive actual evidence of theirbeing posted, sent them out with directions that they should beregistered.

Thenceforward, he sat all day over the fire in the private room,gnawing his nails; there he dined, sitting alone with his fears,the waiter visibly quailing before his eye; and thence, when thenight was fully come, he set forth in the corner of a closed cab,and was driven to and fro about the streets of the city. He, Isay--I cannot say, I. That child of Hell had nothing human;nothing lived in him but fear and hatred. And when at last,thinking the driver had begun to grow suspicious, he dischargedthe cab and ventured on foot, attired in his misfitting clothes,an object marked out for observation, into the midst of thenocturnal passengers, these two base passions raged within himlike a tempest. He walked fast, hunted by his fears, chatteringto himself, skulking through the less-frequented thoroughfares,counting the minutes that still divided him from midnight. Once a

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woman spoke to him, offering, I think, a box of lights. He smoteher in the face, and she fled.

When I came to myself at Lanyon's, the horror of my old friendperhaps affected me somewhat: I do not know; it was at least buta drop in the sea to the abhorrence with which I looked back uponthese hours. A change had come over me. It was no longer the fearof the gallows, it was the horror of being Hyde that racked me. Ireceived Lanyon's condemnation partly in a dream; it was partlyin a dream that I came home to my own house and got into bed. Islept after the prostration of the day, with a stringent andprofound slumber which not even the nightmares that wrung mecould avail to break. I awoke in the morning shaken, weakened,but refreshed. I still hated and feared the thought of the brutethat slept within me, and I had not of course forgotten theappalling dangers of the day before; but I was once more at home,in my own house and close to my drugs; and gratitude for myescape shone so strong in my soul that it almost rivalled thebrightness of hope.

I was stepping leisurely across the court after breakfast,drinking the chill of the air with pleasure, when I was seizedagain with those indescribable sensations that heralded thechange; and I had but the time to gain the shelter of my cabinet,before I was once again raging and freezing with the passions of

Hyde. It took on this occasion a double dose to recall me to

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myself; and alas! Six hours after, as I sat looking sadly in thefire, the pangs returned, and the drug had to be re-administered.In short, from that day forth it seemed only by a great effort asof gymnastics, and only under the immediate stimulation of thedrug, that I was able to wear the countenance of Jekyll. At allhours of the day and night, I would be taken with the premonitoryshudder; above all, if I slept, or even dozed for a moment in mychair, it was always as Hyde that I awakened. Under the strain ofthis continually-impending doom and by the sleeplessness to whichI now condemned myself, ay, even beyond what I had thoughtpossible to man, I became, in my own person, a creature eaten upand emptied by fever, languidly weak both in body and mind, andsolely occupied by one thought: the horror of my other self. Butwhen I slept, or when the virtue of the medicine wore off, Iwould leap almost without transition (for the pangs oftransformation grew daily less marked) into the possession of afancy brimming with images of terror, a soul boiling withcauseless hatreds, and a body that seemed not strong enough tocontain the raging energies of life. The powers of Hyde seemed tohave grown with the sickliness of Jekyll. And certainly the hatethat now divided them was equal on each side. With Jekyll, it wasa thing of vital instinct. He had now seen the full deformity ofthat creature that shared with him some of the phenomena of

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consciousness, and was co-heir with him to death: and beyond theselinks of community, which in themselves made the most poignantpart of his distress, he thought of Hyde, for all his energy oflife, as of something not only hellish but inorganic. This was theshocking thing; that the slime of the pit seemed to utter criesand voices; that the amorphous dust gesticulated and sinned; thatwhat was dead, and had no shape, should usurp the offices of life.And this again, that that insurgent horror was knit to him closerthan a wife, closer than an eye; lay caged in his flesh, where heheard it mutter and felt it struggle to be born; and at every hourof weakness, and in the confidence of slumber, prevailed againsthim and deposed him out of life. The hatred of Hyde for Jekyll,was of a different order. His terror of the gallows drove him

continually to commit temporary suicide, and return to hissubordinate station of a part instead of a person; but he loathedthe necessity, he loathed the despondency into which Jekyll wasnow fallen, and he resented the dislike with which he was himselfregarded. Hence the ape-like tricks that he would play me,scrawling in my own hand blasphemies on the pages of my books,burning the letters and destroying the portrait of my father; andindeed, had it not been for his fear of death, he would long agohave ruined himself in order to involve me in the ruin. But hislove of life is wonderful; I go further: I, who sicken

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and freeze at the mere thought of him, when I recall theabjection and passion of this attachment, and when I know how hefears my power to cut him off by suicide, I find it in my heartto pity him.

It is useless, and the time awfully fails me, to prolong thisdescription; no one has ever suffered such torments, let thatsuffice; and yet even to these, habit brought--no, notalleviation--but a certain callousness of soul, a certainacquiescence of despair; and my punishment might have gone on foryears, but for the last calamity which has now fallen, and whichhas finally severed me from my own face and nature. My provisionof the salt, which had never been renewed since the date of thefirst experiment, began to run low. I sent out for a freshsupply, and mixed the draught; the ebullition followed, and thefirst change of colour, not the second; I drank it and it waswithout efficiency. You will learn from Poole how I have hadLondon ransacked; it was in vain; and I am now persuaded that myfirst supply was impure, and that it was that unknown impuritywhich lent efficacy to the draught.

About a week has passed, and I am now finishing this statementunder the influence of the last of the old powders. This, then,is the last time, short of a miracle, that Henry Jekyll can thinkhis own thoughts or see his own face (now how sadly altered!)in the glass. Nor must I delay

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too long to bring my writing to an end; for if my narrative hashitherto escaped destruction, it has been by a combination ofgreat prudence and great good luck. Should the throes of changetake me in the act of writing it, Hyde will tear it in pieces;but if some time shall have elapsed after I have laid it by, his

wonderful selfishness and Circumscription to the moment willprobably save it once again from the action of his ape-likespite. And indeed the doom that is closing on us both, hasalready changed and crushed him. Half an hour from now, when Ishall again and for ever re-indue that hated personality, I knowhow I shall sit shuddering and weeping in my chair, or continue,with the most strained and fear-struck ecstasy of listening, topace up and down this room (my last earthly refuge) and give earto every sound of menace. Will Hyde die upon the scaffold? orwill he find courage to release himself at the last moment? Godknows; I am careless; this is my true hour of death, and what isto follow concerns another than myself. Here then, as I lay downthe pen and proceed to seal up my confession, I bring the life ofthat unhappy Henry Jekyll to an end.

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