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Page 8
The steps drew swiftly nearer, and swelled out suddenly louder
as they turned the end of the street. The lawyer, looking forth
from the 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 at that distance, went somehow strongly against the watcher's
inclination. But he made straight for the door, crossing the
roadway to save time; and as he came, he drew a key from his
pocket like one approaching home.
Mr. Utterson stepped out and touched him on the shoulder as he
passed. "Mr. Hyde, I think?"
Mr. Hyde shrank back with a hissing intake of the breath. But
his fear was only momentary; and though he did not look the lawyer
in the face, he answered coolly enough: "That is my name. What do
you want?"
"I see you are going in," returned the lawyer. "I am an old
friend of Dr. Jekyll's--Mr. Utterson of Gaunt Street--you must
have heard of my name; and meeting you so 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
sudden reflection, fronted about with an air of defiance; and the
pair stared at each other pretty fixedly for a few seconds. "Now
I shall know 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 a
street in Soho.
"Good God!" thought Mr. Utterson, "can he, too, have been
thinking of the will?" But he kept his feelings to himself and
only grunted in acknowledgment of the address.
"And now," said the other, "how did you know me?"
"By description," was the reply.
"Whose description?"
"We have common friends," said Mr. Utterson.
"Common friends," echoed Mr. Hyde, a little hoarsely. "Who
are they?"
"Jekyll, for instance," said the lawyer.
"He never told you," cried Mr. Hyde, with a flush of anger.
"I did not 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 and
disappeared into the house.
The lawyer stood awhile when Mr. Hyde had left him, the
picture of disquietude. Then he began slowly to mount the street,
pausing every 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 and dwarfish, he gave an impression of deformity without any
nameable malformation, he had a displeasing smile, he had borne
himself to the lawyer with a sort of murderous mixture of timidity
and boldness, and he spoke with a husky, whispering and somewhat
broken voice; all these were points against him, but not all of
these together could explain the hitherto unknown disgust,
loathing and fear with which Mr. Utterson regarded him. "There
must be something else," said the perplexed gentleman. "There
is something more, if I could find a name for it. God bless me,
the man seems hardly human! Something troglodytic, shall we say?
or can it be the old story of Dr. Fell? or is it the mere radiance
of a foul soul that thus transpires through, and transfigures, its
clay continent? The last, I think; for, O my poor old Harry
Jekyll, if ever I read Satan's signature upon a face, it is on
that of your new friend."
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