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Page 13
lighted up with professional ambition. "This will make a deal of
noise," he said. "And perhaps you can help us to the man." And he
briefly narrated what the maid had seen, and showed the broken
stick.
Mr. Utterson had already quailed at the name of Hyde; but when the
stick was laid before him, he could doubt no longer; broken and
battered as it was, he recognised it for one that he had himself
presented 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 the
maid calls him," said the officer.
Mr. Utterson reflected; and then, raising his head, "If you will
come with me in my cab," he said, "I think I can take you to his
house."
It was by this time about nine in the morning, and the first fog of
the season. A great chocolate-coloured pall lowered over heaven, but
the wind was continually charging and routing these embattled
vapours; 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 there
would be a glow of a rich, lurid brown, like the light of some
strange conflagration; and here, for a moment, the fog would be
quite broken up, and a haggard shaft
32)
of daylight would glance in between the swirling wreaths. The
dismal quarter of Soho seen under these changing glimpses, with its
muddy ways, and slatternly passengers, and its lamps, which had
never been extinguished or had been kindled afresh to combat this
mournful re-invasion of darkness, seemed, in the lawyer's eyes, like
a district of some city in a nightmare. The thoughts of his mind,
besides, were of the gloomiest dye; and when he glanced at the
companion of his drive, he was conscious of some touch of that
terror of the law and the law's officers, which may at times assail
the most honest.
As the cab drew up before the address indicated, the fog lifted a
little and showed him a dingy street, a gin palace, a low French
eating-house, a shop for the retail of penny numbers and twopenny
salads, many ragged children huddled in the doorways, and many
women of different nationalities passing out, key in hand, to have a
morning glass; and the next moment the fog settled down again upon
that part, as brown as umber, and cut him off from his blackguardly
surroundings. This was the home of Henry Jekyll's favourite; of a
man who was heir to a quarter of a million sterling.
An ivory-faced and silvery-haired old woman opened the door. She
had an evil face, smoothed by hypocrisy; but her manners were
excellent. Yes, she said, this was Mr. Hyde's, but he was not at
home; he had been in that night very late,
33)
but had gone away again in less than an hour; there was nothing
strange in that; his habits were very irregular, and he was often
absent; for instance, it was nearly two months since she had seen
him till yesterday.
"Very well, then, we wish to see his rooms," said the lawyer; and
when the woman began to declare it was impossible, "I had better
tell you who this person is," he added. "This is Inspector Newcomen
of Scotland Yard."
A flash of odious joy appeared upon the woman's face. "Ah!" said
she, "he is in trouble! What has he done?"
Mr. Utterson and the inspector exchanged glances. "He don't seem a
very popular character," observed the latter. "And now, my good
woman, just let me and this gentleman have a look about us."
In the whole extent of the house, which but for the old woman
remained 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; a
good picture hung upon the walls, a gift (as Utterson supposed) from
Henry Jekyll, who was much of a connoisseur; and the carpets were of
many plies and agreeable in colour. At this moment, however, the
rooms bore every mark of having been recently and hurriedly
ransacked; clothes lay about the floor, with their pockets inside
out;
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