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Page 13
"You may depend upon it, sir," he told Mr. Utterson: "I have
him in my hand. He must have lost his head, or he never would
have left the stick or, above all, burned the cheque book. Why,
money's life to the man. We have nothing to do but wait for him
at the bank, and get out the handbills."
This last, however, was not so easy of accomplishment; for Mr.
Hyde had numbered few familiars--even the master of the servant
maid had only seen him twice; his family could nowhere be traced;
he had never been photographed; and the few who could describe him
differed widely, as common observers will. Only on one point were
they agreed; and that was the haunting sense of unexpressed
deformity with which the fugitive impressed his beholders.
Incident of the Letter
It was late in the afternoon, when Mr. Utterson found his way to
Dr. Jekyll's door, where he was at once admitted by Poole, and
carried down by the kitchen offices and across a yard which had
once been a garden, to the building which was indifferently known
as the laboratory or dissecting rooms. The doctor had bought the
house from the heirs of a celebrated surgeon; and his own tastes
being rather chemical than anatomical, had changed the destination
of the block at the bottom of the garden. It was the first time
that the lawyer had been received in that part of his friend's
quarters; and he eyed the dingy, windowless structure with
curiosity, and gazed round with a distasteful sense of strangeness
as he crossed the theatre, once crowded with eager students and
now lying gaunt and silent, the tables laden with chemical
apparatus, the floor strewn with crates and littered with packing
straw, and the light falling dimly through the foggy cupola. At
the further end, a flight of stairs mounted to a door covered with
red baize; and through this, Mr. Utterson was at last received
into the doctor's cabinet. It was a large room fitted round with
glass presses, furnished, among other things, with a cheval-glass
and a business table, and looking out upon the court by three
dusty windows barred with iron. The fire burned in the grate; a
lamp was set lighted on the chimney shelf, for even in the houses
the fog began to lie thickly; and there, close up to the warmth,
sat Dr. Jekyll, looking deathly 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,
"you have 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 to hide this fellow?"
"Utterson, I swear to God," cried the doctor, "I swear to God
I will never set eyes on him again. I bind my honour to you that
I am done with him in this world. It is all at an end. And
indeed he does not want my help; you do not know him as I do; he
is safe, he is quite safe; mark my words, he will never more be
heard of."
The lawyer listened gloomily; he did not like his friend's
feverish manner. "You seem pretty 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
for certainty that I cannot share with any one. But there is one
thing on which you may advise me. I have--I have received a
letter; and I am at a loss whether I should show it to the police.
I should like to leave it in your hands, Utterson; you would judge
wisely, I am sure; I have so great a trust in you."
"You fear, I suppose, that it might lead to his detection?"
asked the lawyer.
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