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                <title type="main">The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde</title>
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                            <forename>Robert Louis</forename>
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                                <forename>Robert Louis</forename>
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                        <title>The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde</title>
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                            <date when="1923">1923</date>
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                                <p>Text is paginated to J. H. Sears &amp; Company. Inc edition
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    <text>
        <front>
            <titlePage>
                <pb n="[TP]"/>
                <titlePart>
                    <hi rend="small-caps">The Strange Case of
                <lb/>Dr. Jeykell and<lb/>Mr. Hyde</hi>
                </titlePart>
                <docImprint>
                    <hi rend="small-caps">By<lb/>Robert Louis Stevenson</hi>
                    <lb/>
                    <hi rend="small-caps">J. H. Sears &amp; Company. Inc.<lb/>
                    Publishers<lb/>
                    </hi>
                    <pubPlace>
                        <placeName type="tgn" key="7007567"/>
                        <hi rend="small-caps">New Yourk</hi>
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        <body>
            <div type="chapter" n="1">
                <head>Story of the Door</head>
                <pb n="1"/>
                <p> Mr. Utterson the lawyer was a man of a rugged countenance that was
                never lighted by a smile; cold, scanty and embarrassed in
                discourse; backward in sentiment; lean, long, dusty, dreary and
                yet somehow lovable. At friendly meetings, and when the wine was
                to his taste, something eminently human <ref corresp="beaconed" target="_beaconed">beaconed</ref>
                <note target="_beaconed" xml:id="beaconed" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">To shine like a beacon.
                Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note> from his eye;
                something indeed which never found its way into his talk, but
                which spoke not only in these silent symbols of the after-dinner
                face, but more often and loudly in the acts of his life. He was
                austere with himself; drank gin when he was alone, to mortify a
                taste for vintages; and though he enjoyed the theater, had not
                crossed the doors of one for twenty years. But he had an approved
                tolerance for others; sometimes wondering, almost with envy, at
                the high pressure of spirits involved in their misdeeds; and in
                any extremity inclined to help rather than to reprove. "I incline
                to Cain's heresy," he used to say quaintly: "I let my brother go
                to the devil in his own way." In this character, it was
                frequently his fortune to be the last reputable acquaintance and
                the last good influence in the lives of downgoing men. And to
                such as these, so long as they came about his chambers, he never
                marked a shade of change in his demeanour.
                </p>
                <p>No doubt the feat was easy to Mr. Utterson; for he was
                undemonstrative at the best, and even his friendship seemed to be
                founded in a similar catholicity of good-nature. It is the mark
                of a modest man to accept his friendly circle ready-made from the
                hands of opportunity; and that was the<pb n="2"/> lawyer's way. His friends
                were those of his own blood or those whom he had known the
                longest; his affections, like ivy, were the growth of time, they
                implied no aptness in the object. Hence, no doubt the bond that
                united him to Mr. Richard Enfield, his distant kinsman, the
                well-known man about town. It was a nut to crack for many,
                what these two could see in each other, or what subject they
                could find
                in common. It was reported by those who encountered them in their
                Sunday walks, that they said nothing, looked singularly dull and
                would hail with obvious relief the appearance of a friend. For
                all that, the two men put the greatest store by these excursions,
                counted them the chief jewel of each week, and not only set aside
                occasions of pleasure, but even resisted the calls of business,
                that they might enjoy them uninterrupted.
                </p>
                <p>It chanced on one of these rambles that their way led them
                down a by-street in a busy quarter of London. The street was
                small and what is called quiet, but it drove a thriving trade on
                the weekdays. The inhabitants were all doing well, it seemed and
                all <ref target="_emulously" corresp="emulously">emulously</ref>
                <note target="_emulously" xml:id="emulously" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                Desirous of rivalling, imitating, obtaining. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note>hoping to do better still, and laying out the
                surplus of their grains in <ref target="_coquetry" corresp="coquetry">coquetry</ref>
                <note target="_coquetry" xml:id="coquetry" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                capricious, pleasing beauty; playfulness, lightness. Source: Oxford English Dictionary    
                </note>; so that the shop fronts stood
                along that thoroughfare with an air of invitation, like rows of
                smiling saleswomen. Even on Sunday, when it veiled its more
                florid charms and lay comparatively empty of passage, the street
                shone out in contrast to its dingy neighbourhood, like a fire in
                a forest; and with its freshly painted shutters, well-polished
                brasses, and general cleanliness and gaiety of note, instantly
                caught and pleased the eye of the passenger.
                </p>
                <p>Two doors from one corner, on the left hand going east the
                line was broken by the entry of a court; and just at that point a
                certain sinister block of building thrust forward its gable on the
                street. It was two storeys high; showed no window, nothing but a
                door on the lower storey and a blind forehead of discoloured wall
                on the upper; and bore in every feature, the marks of prolonged
                and sordid negligence. The door, which was equipped with neither
                bell nor knocker, was blistered and distained. Tramps slouched
                into the recess and struck matches on the panels; children kept
                shop upon the steps; the schoolboy had tried his knife on the
                mouldings;<pb n="3"/>and for close on a generation, no one had appeared to
                drive away these random visitors or to repair their ravages.
                </p>
                <p>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 his cane and pointed.
                </p>
                <p>"Did you ever remark that door?" he asked; and when his
                companion had replied in the affirmative. "It is connected in my
                mind," added he, "with a very odd story."
                </p>
                <p>"Indeed?" said Mr. Utterson, with a slight change of
                voice, "and what was that?"
                </p>
                <p>"Well, it was this way," returned Mr. Enfield: "I was coming
                home from some place at the end of the world, about three o'clock
                of a black winter morning, and my way lay through a part of town
                where there was literally nothing to be seen but lamps. Street
                after street and all the folks asleep -- street after street, all
                lighted up as if for a procession and all as empty as a church --
                till at last I got into that state of mind when a man listens and
                listens and begins to long for the sight of a policeman. All at
                once, I saw two figures: one a little man who was stumping along
                eastward at a good walk, and the other a girl of maybe eight or
                ten who was running as hard as she was able down a cross street.
                Well, sir, the two ran into one another naturally enough at the
                corner; and then came the horrible part of the thing; for the man
                trampled calmly over the child's body and left her screaming on
                the 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
                a few <ref target="_halloa" corresp="halloa">halloa</ref>
                <note target="_halloa" xml:id="halloa" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                Hellos. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note>, took to my heels, <ref target="_collared" corresp="collared">collared</ref>
                <note target="_collared" xml:id="collared" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                To seize or take hold of (a person) by the collar. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> my gentleman, and brought
                him back to where there was already quite a group about the
                screaming child. He was perfectly cool and made no resistance,
                but gave 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 his appearance. Well, the child was not much the worse,
                more frightened, according to the <ref target="_sawbones" corresp="sawbones">Sawbones</ref>
                <note target="_sawbones" xml:id="sawbones" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                Slang for a doctor. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note>; and there you might
                have supposed would be an end to it. But there was one curious
                circumstance. I had taken a loathing to my gentleman at first
                sight. So had the child's family, which was only natural. But<pb n="4"/>
                the doctor's case was what struck me. He was the usual cut and
                dry apothecary, of no particular age and colour, with a strong
                <placeName type="tgn" key="7009546">Edinburgh</placeName>
                accent and about as emotional as a bagpipe. Well, sir,
                he was like the rest of us; every time he looked at my prisoner, I
                saw that Sawbones turn sick and white with desire to kill him. I
                knew what was in his mind, just as he knew what was in mine; and
                killing being out of the question, we did the next best. We told
                the man we could and would make such a scandal out of this as
                should make his name stink from one end of London to the other.
                If he had any friends or any 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 him as best we could for they were
                as wild as harpies. I never saw a circle of such hateful faces;
                and there was the man in the middle, with a kind of black sneering
                coolness -- frightened to, I could see that -- but carrying it
                off, sir, really like Satan. 'If you choose to make capital out
                of this accident,' said he, 'I am naturally helpless. No
                gentleman but wishes to avoid a scene,' says he. 'Name your
                figure.' Well, we screwed him up to a <ref target="_hundred-pounds" corresp="hundred-pounds">
                hundred pounds</ref>
                    <note target="_hundred-pounds" xml:id="hundred-pounds" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="editorial">
                This is equilivant to about £10,700 or about $13,500 today. 
                Sources: <ref target="https://www.bankofengland.co.uk/monetary-policy/inflation/inflation-calculator">
                https://www.bankofengland.co.uk/monetary-policy/inflation/inflation-calculator
                </ref> and <ref target="https://www.currency.me.uk/convert/gbp/usd">https://www.currency.me.uk/convert/gbp/usd</ref>
                </note> for 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 where
                do you think he carried us but to that place with the
                door? -- whipped out a key, went in, and presently came back with
                the matter of ten pounds in gold and a cheque for the balance on
                <ref corresp="coutts" target="_coutts">Coutts</ref>
                <note target="_coutts" xml:id="coutts" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                <ref target="https://www.coutts.com/">Coutts</ref> is a British bank.
                </note>'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 at least very well known and often printed. The figure
                was stiff; but the signature was good for more than that if it was
                only genuine. I took the liberty of pointing out to my gentleman
                that the whole business looked <ref target="_apocryphal" corresp="apocryphal">apocryphal</ref>
                <note target="_apocryphal" xml:id="apocryphal" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">Of doubtful authenticity
                </note>, and that a man does
                not, in real life, walk into a cellar door at four in the morning
                and come out with another man's cheque for close upon a hundred
                pounds. But he was quite easy and sneering. 'Set your mind at
                rest,' says he, 'I will 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 our friend and<pb n="5"/>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. I gave in the cheque myself, and said I
                had every reason to believe it was a forgery. Not a bit of it.
                The cheque was genuine."
                </p>
                <p>"Tut-tut," said Mr. Utterson.
                </p>
                <p>"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 really damnable man; and the person that drew the cheque is the
                very pink of the proprieties, celebrated too, and (what makes it
                worse) one of your fellows who do what they call good. Black mail
                I suppose; an honest man paying through the nose for some of the
                capers of his youth. Black Mail House is what I call the place
                with the door, in consequence. Though even that, you know, is far
                from explaining all," he added, and with the words fell into a
                vein of musing.
                </p>
                <p>From this he was recalled by Mr. Utterson asking rather
                suddenly: "And you don't know if the drawer of the cheque lives
                there?"
                </p>
                <p>"A likely place, isn't it?" returned Mr. Enfield. "But I
                happen to have noticed his address; he lives in some square or
                other."
                </p>
                <p>"And you never asked about the -- place with the door?"
                said Mr. Utterson.
                </p>
                <p>"No, sir: I had a delicacy," was the reply. "I feel very
                strongly about putting questions; it partakes too much of the style
                of the day of judgment. You start a question, and it's like
                starting a stone. You sit quietly on the top of a hill; and away
                the stone goes, starting others; and presently some bland old bird
                (the last you would have thought of) is knocked on the head in his
                own back garden and the family have to change their name. No sir,
                I make it a rule of mine: the more it looks like Queer Street, the
                less I ask."
                </p>
                <p>"A very good rule, too," said the lawyer.
                </p>
                <p>"But I have studied the place for myself," continued Mr.
                Enfield. "It seems scarcely a house. There is no other door, and
                nobody goes in or out of that one but, once in a great while, the
                gentleman of my adventure. There are three windows looking on the
                court on the first floor; none below;<pb n="6"/>the windows are always shut
                but they're clean. And then there is a chimney which is generally
                smoking; so somebody must live there. And yet it's not so sure;
                for the buildings are so packed together about the court, that
                it's hard to say where one ends and another begins."
                </p>
                <p>The pair walked on again for a while in silence; and then
                "Enfield," said Mr. Utterson, "that's a good rule of yours."</p>
                <p>"Yes, I think it is," returned Enfield.
                </p>
                <p>"But for all that," continued the lawyer, "there's one
                point I
                want to ask: I want to ask the name of that man who walked over
                the child."
                </p>
                <p>"Well," said Mr. Enfield, "I can't see what harm it would do.
                It was a man of the name of Hyde."
                </p>
                <p>"Hm," said Mr. Utterson. "What sort of a man is he to
                see?"
                </p>
                <p>"He is not easy to describe. There is something wrong with his
                appearance; something displeasing, something down-right
                detestable. I never saw a man I so disliked, and yet I scarce
                know why. He must be deformed somewhere; he gives a strong
                feeling of deformity, although I couldn't specify the point. He's
                an extraordinary looking man, and yet I really can name nothing
                out of the way. No, sir; I can make no hand of it; I can't
                describe him. And it's not want of memory; for I declare I can
                see him this moment."
                </p>
                <p>Mr. Utterson again walked some way in silence and
                obviously
                under a weight of consideration. "You are sure he used a key?" he
                inquired at last.
                </p>
                <p>"My dear sir ..." began Enfield, surprised out of himself.
                </p>
                <p>"Yes, I know," said Utterson; "I know it must seem strange.
                The fact is, if I do not ask you the name of the other party, it
                is because I know it already. You see, Richard, your tale has
                gone home. If you have been inexact in any point you had better
                correct it."
                </p>
                <p>"I think you might have warned me," returned the other with a
                touch of sullenness. "But I have been pedantically exact, as you
                call it. The fellow had a key; and what's more, he has it still.
                I saw him use it not a week ago."
                </p>
                <p>Mr. Utterson sighed deeply but said never a word; and the
                young man presently resumed. "Here is another lesson to say
                nothing," said he. "I am ashamed of my long<pb n="7"/>tongue. Let us make
                a bargain never to refer to this again."
                </p>
                <p>"With all my heart," said the lawyer. I shake hands on that,
                Richard."</p>
            </div>
            <div type="chapter" n="2">
            <head>Search for Mr. Hyde</head>
                <p>That evening Mr. Utterson came home to his bachelor house in
                sombre spirits and sat down to dinner without relish. It was his
                custom of a Sunday, when this meal was over, to sit close by the
                fire, a volume of some dry divinity on his reading desk, until the
                clock of the neighbouring church rang out the hour of twelve, when
                he would go soberly and gratefully to bed. On this night however,
                as soon as the cloth was taken away, he took up a candle and went
                into his business room. There he opened his safe, took from the
                most private part 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 was holograph, for Mr. Utterson though he took
                charge of it now that it was made, had refused to lend the least
                assistance in the making of it; it provided not only that, in case
                of the decease of Henry Jekyll, M.D., D.C.L., L.L.D., F.R.S.,
                etc., all his possessions were to pass into the hands of his
                "friend and benefactor Edward Hyde," but that in case of Dr.
                Jekyll's "disappearance or unexplained absence for any period
                exceeding three calendar months," the said Edward Hyde should step
                into the said Henry Jekyll's shoes without further delay and free
                from any <ref target="_burthen" corresp="burthen">burthen</ref>
                <note target="_burthen" xml:id="burthen" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="editorial">
                An archaic form of burden. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note>or obligation beyond the payment of a few small
                sums to the members of the doctor's household. This document had
                long been the lawyer's eyesore. It offended him both as a lawyer
                and as a lover of the sane and customary sides of life, to whom
                the fanciful was the immodest. And hitherto it was his ignorance
                of Mr. Hyde that had swelled his indignation; now, by a sudden
                turn, it was his knowledge. It was already bad enough when the
                name was but a name of which he could learn no more. It was worse
                when it began to be clothed upon with destestable attributes; and
                out of the shifting, insubstantial mists that had so long baffled
                his eye, there leaped up the sudden, definite
                <ref target="_presentment" corresp="presentment">presentment</ref>
                <note target="_presentment" xml:id="presentment" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                The act of presenting something to sight or hearing, or something so presented. Source: Oxford English Dictionary  
                </note>of a fiend.
                </p>
                <pb n="8"/>
                <p>"I thought it was madness," he said, as he replaced the
                obnoxious paper in the safe, "and now I begin to fear it is
                disgrace."
                </p>
                <p>With that he blew out his candle, put on a <ref target="_greatcoat" corresp="greatcoat">greatcoat</ref>
                <note target="_greatcoat" xml:id="greatcoat" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloxx"> A long heavy overcoat.
                Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>, and set
                forth in the direction of Cavendish Square, that citadel of
                medicine, where his friend, the great Dr. Lanyon, had his house
                and received his crowding patients. "If anyone knows, it will be
                Lanyon," he had thought.
                </p>
                <p>The solemn butler knew and welcomed him; he was subjected to
                no stage of delay, but ushered direct from the door to the
                dining-room where Dr. Lanyon sat alone over his wine. This was a
                hearty, healthy, dapper, red-faced gentleman, with a shock of hair
                prematurely white, and a boisterous and decided manner. At sight
                of Mr. Utterson, he sprang up from his chair and welcomed him with
                both hands. The <ref target="_geniality" corresp="geniality">geniality</ref>
                <note target="_geniality" xml:id="geniality" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                Cheerfulness, good nature; kindliness; affability. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note>, as was the way of the man, was
                somewhat theatrical to the eye; but it reposed on genuine feeling.
                For these two were old friends, old mates both at school and
                college, both thorough respectors of themselves and of each other,
                and what does not always follow, men who thoroughly enjoyed each
                other's company.
                </p>
                <p>After a little rambling talk, the lawyer led up to the subject
                which so disagreeably preoccupied his mind.
                </p>
                <p>"I suppose, Lanyon," said he, "you and I must be the two
                oldest friends that Henry Jekyll has?"
                </p>
                <p>"I wish the friends were younger," chuckled Dr. Lanyon. "But
                I suppose we are. And what of that? I see little of him now."
                </p>
                <p>"Indeed?" said Utterson. "I thought you had a bond of common
                interest."
                </p>
                <p>"We had," was the reply. "But it is more than ten years since
                Henry Jekyll became too fanciful for me. He began to go wrong,
                wrong in mind; and though of course I continue to take an interest
                in him for old sake's sake, as they say, I see and I have seen
                devilish little of the man. Such unscientific balderdash," added
                the doctor, flushing suddenly purple, "would have estranged <ref target="_damon-pythias" corresp="damon-pythias">
                Damon and Pythias</ref>
                    <note target="_damon-pythias" xml:id="damon-pythias" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                This refers to two friends in Greek legend. One was condemed to death by the tirant Dionysius and asked for extra time to
                settle his affiars. His request was denied. The other offered to be kill in his place if the first did not
                come back when asked. The man set to die did come back at the appointed time and Dionysius was so moved 
                by their friendship he released them both. Source: <ref target="https://www.britannica.com/topic/Damon-and-Pythias-Greek-legend">https://www.britannica.com/topic/Damon-and-Pythias-Greek-legend</ref>
                </note>."
                </p>
                <p>This little spirit of temper was somewhat of a relief to
                Mr. Utterson. "They have only differed on some point of science,"
                he thought; and being a man of no scientific pas-<pb n="9"/>sions (except in
                the matter of conveyancing), he even added: "It is nothing worse
                than that!" He gave his friend a few seconds to recover his
                composure, and then approached the question he had come to put.
                Did you ever come across a <hi rend="italic">protégé</hi> of his -- one
                Hyde?" he asked.
                </p>
                <p>"Hyde?" repeated Lanyon. "No. Never heard of him. Since my
                time."
                </p>
                <p>That was the amount of information that the lawyer carried
                back with 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 a night of little ease to his toiling mind, toiling in mere
                darkness and beseiged by questions.
                </p>
                <p>Six o'clock stuck on the bells of the church that was so
                conveniently near to Mr. Utterson's dwelling, and still he was
                digging at the problem. Hitherto it had touched him on the
                intellectual side alone; but now his imagination also was engaged,
                or rather enslaved; and as he lay and tossed in the gross darkness
                of the night and the curtained room, Mr. Enfield's tale went by
                before his mind in a scroll of lighted pictures. He would be
                aware of the great field of lamps of a nocturnal city; then of the
                figure of a man walking swiftly; then of a child running from the
                doctor's; and then these met, and that human Juggernaut trod the
                child down and passed on regardless of her screams. Or else he
                would see a room in a rich house, where his friend lay asleep,
                dreaming and smiling at his dreams; and then the door of that room
                would be opened, the curtains of the bed plucked apart, the
                sleeper recalled, and lo! there would stand by his side a figure
                to whom power was given, and even at that dead hour, he must rise
                and do its bidding. The figure in these two phases haunted the
                lawyer all night; and if at any time he dozed over, it was but to
                see it glide more stealthily through sleeping houses, or move the
                more swiftly and still the more swiftly, even to dizziness,
                through wider labyrinths of lamplighted city, and at every street
                corner crush a child and leave her screaming. And still the
                figure had no face by which he might know it; even in his dreams,
                it had no face, or one that baffled him and melted before his
                eyes; and thus it was that there sprang up and grew apace in the
                lawyer's mind a singularly strong, almost an inordinate, curiosity
                to<pb n="10"/>behold the features of the real Mr. Hyde. If he could but once
                set eyes on him, he thought the mystery would lighten and perhaps
                roll altogether away, as was the habit of mysterious things when
                well examined. He might see a reason for his friend's strange
                preference or bondage (call it which you please) and even for the
                startling clause of the will. At least it would be a face worth
                seeing: the face of a man who was without bowels of mercy: a face
                which had but to show itself to raise up, in the mind of the
                unimpressionable Enfield, a spirit of enduring hatred.
                </p>
                <p>From that time forward, Mr. Utterson began to haunt the door
                in the by-street of shops. In the morning before office hours, at
                noon when business was plenty, and time scarce, at night under the
                face of the fogged city moon, by all lights and at all hours of
                solitude or <ref corresp="concourse" target="_concourse">concourse</ref>
                <note target="_concourse" xml:id="concourse" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                The running or flocking together of people; the condition or state of being so gathered together.
                Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note>, the lawyer was to be found on his chosen post.
                </p>
                <p>"If he be Mr. Hyde," he had thought, "I shall be Mr. Seek."
                </p>
                <p>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;
                the lamps, unshaken by any wind, drawing a regular pattern of
                light and shadow. By ten o'clock, when the shops were closed the
                by-street was very solitary and, in spite of the low growl of
                London from all round, very silent. Small sounds carried far;
                domestic sounds out of the houses were clearly audible on either
                side of the roadway; and the rumour of the approach of any
                passenger preceded him by a long time. Mr. Utterson had been some
                minutes at his post, when he was aware of an odd light footstep
                drawing near. In the course of his nightly patrols, he had long
                grown accustomed to the quaint effect with which the footfalls
                of a single person, while he is still a great way off, suddenly
                spring out distinct from the vast hum and clatter of the city.
                Yet his attention had never before been so sharply and decisively
                arrested; and it was with a strong, superstitious prevision of
                success that he withdrew into the entry of the court.
                </p>
                <p>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<pb n="11"/>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.
                </p>
                <p>Mr. Utterson stepped out and touched him on the shoulder as he
                passed. "Mr. Hyde, I think?"
                </p>
                <p>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?"
                </p>
                <p>"I see you are going in," returned the lawyer. "I am an ond
                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."
                </p>
                <p>"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.
                </p>
                <p>"On your side," said Mr. Utterson "will you do me a
                favour?"
                </p>
                <p>"With pleasure," replied the other. "What shall it be?"
                </p>
                <p>"Will you let me see your face?" asked the lawyer.
                </p>
                <p>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."
                </p>
                <p>"Yes," returned Mr. Hyde, "It is as well we have met; and
                <ref target="_a-propos" corresp="a-propos">
                        <hi rend="italic">à propos</hi>
                    </ref>
                <note target="_a-propos" xml:id="a-propos" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                Having direct reference to the matter in hand; pertinent, opportune. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note>, you should have my address." And he gave a number of a
                street in Soho.
                </p>
                <p>"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.
                </p>
                <p>"And now," said the other, "how did you know me?"
                </p>
                <p>"By description," was the reply.
                </p>
                <p>"Whose description?"
                </p>
                <p>"We have common friends," said Mr. Utterson.
                </p>
                <p>"Common friends," echoed Mr. Hyde, a little hoarsely. "Who
                are they?"</p>
                <p>"Jekyll, for instance," said the lawyer.
                </p>
                <pb n="12"/>
                <p>"He never told you," cried Mr. Hyde, with a flush of anger.
                "I did not think you would have lied."
                </p>
                <p>"Come," said Mr. Utterson, "that is not fitting language."
                </p>
                <p>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.
                </p>
                <p>The lawyer stood awhile when Mr. Hyde had left him, the
                picture of <ref target="_disquietude" corresp="disquietude">disquietude</ref>
                <note target="_disquietude" xml:id="disquietude" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                Restlessness, disturbance, disquietness. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note>. 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 <ref target="_dr-fell" corresp="dr-fell">Dr. Fell</ref>
                <note target="_dr-fell" xml:id="dr-fell" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="editorial">
                    This is in reference to the following nursery rhyme:
                    <lb/>I do not like thee, Doctor Fell,
                    <lb/>The reason why -- I cannot tell;
                    <lb/>But this I know, and know full well, 
                    <lb/>I do not like thee, Doctor Fell.
                    <lb/>Source: <ref target="https://crawleymuseums.org/a-true-story-of-two-schoolboys-from-crawley-and-how-the-weight-of-history-fell-on-one-of-them-a-short-story/">
                    https://crawleymuseums.org/a-true-story-of-two-schoolboys-from-crawley-and-how-the-weight-of-history-fell-on-one-of-them-a-short-story/</ref>
                </note>? or is it the mere radience
                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."
                </p>
                <p>Round the corner from the by-street, there was a square of
                ancient, handsome houses, now for the most part decayed from their
                high estate and let in flats and chambers to all sorts and
                conditions of men; map-engravers, architects, shady lawyers and
                the agents of obscure enterprises. One house, however, second
                from the corner, was still occupied entire; and at the door of
                this, which wore a great air of wealth and comfort, though it was
                now plunged in darkness except for the fanlight, Mr. Utterson
                stopped and knocked. A well-dressed, elderly servant opened the
                door.</p>
                <p>"Is Dr. Jekyll at home, Poole?" asked the lawyer.
                </p>
                <p>"I will see, Mr. Utterson," said Poole, admitting the visitor,<pb n="13"/>
                as he spoke, into a large, low-roofed, comfortable hall paved with
                flags, warmed (after the fashion of a country house) by a bright,
                open fire, and furnished with costly cabinets of oak. "Will you
                wait here by the fire, sir? or shall I give you a light in the
                dining-room?"
                </p>
                <p>"Here, thank you," said the lawyer, and he drew near and
                leaned on the tall fender. This hall, in which he was now left
                alone, was a pet fancy of his friend the doctor's; and Utterson
                himself was wont to speak of it as the pleasantest room in London.
                But tonight there was a shudder in his blood; the face of Hyde sat
                heavy on his memory; he felt (what was rare with him) a nausea
                and distaste of life; and in the gloom of his spirits, he seemed
                to read a menace in the flickering of the firelight on the
                polished cabinets and the uneasy starting of the shadow on the
                roof. He was ashamed of his relief, when Poole presently
                returned to announce that Dr. Jekyll was gone out.
                </p>
                <p>"I saw Mr. Hyde go in by the old dissecting room, Poole," he
                said. "Is that right, when Dr. Jekyll is from home?"
                </p>
                <p>"Quite right, Mr. Utterson, sir," replied the servant. "Mr. Hyde
                has a key."
                </p>
                <p>"Your master seems to repose a great deal of trust in that
                young man, Poole," resumed the other musingly.
                </p>
                <p>"Yes, sir, he does indeed," said Poole. "We have all
                orders to obey him."
                </p>
                <p>"I do not think I ever met Mr. Hyde?" asked Utterson.
                </p>
                <p>"O, dear no, sir. He never <hi rend="italic">dines</hi> here," replied the butler.
                Indeed we see very little of him on this side of the house; he
                mostly comes and goes by the laboratory."
                </p>
                <p>"Well, good-night, Poole."
                </p>
                <p>"Good-night, Mr. Utterson."
                </p>
                <p>And the lawyer set out homeward with a very heavy heart.
                "Poor Harry Jekyll," he thought, "my mind misgives me he is in
                deep waters! He was wild when he was young; a long while ago to
                be sure; but in the law of God, there is no statute of
                limitations. Ay, it must be that; the ghost of some old sin, the
                cancer of some concealed disgrace: punishment coming,
                <ref target="_pede-claudo" corresp="pede-claudo">
                        <hi rend="italic">pede claudo</hi>
                    </ref>
                <note target="_pede-claudo" xml:id="pede-claudo" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                A shortened form of the Latin phrase "Pede poena claudo" translated as
                "Punishment comes limping". Source: <ref target="https://www.latin-is-simple.com/en/vocabulary/phrase/1417/">https://www.latin-is-simple.com/en/vocabulary/phrase/1417/</ref>
                </note>,
                years after memory has forgotten and self-love condoned the
                fault." And the lawyer,<pb n="14"/>scared by the thought, brooded awhile on
                his own past, groping in all the corners of memory, least by
                chance some 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 their life with less apprehension; yet he was humbled
                to the dust by the many ill things he had done, and raised up
                again into a sober and fearful gratitude by the many he had come
                so near to doing yet avoided. And then by a return on his former
                subject, he conceived a spark 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 like sunshine. Things cannot continue as
                they are. It turns me cold to think of this creature stealing
                like a thief to Harry's bedside; poor Harry, what a wakening! And
                the danger of it; for if this Hyde suspects the existence of the
                will, he may grow impatient to inherit. Ay, I must put my
                shoulders to the wheel -- if Jekyll will but let me," he added,
                "if Jekyll will only let me." For once more he saw before his
                mind's eye, as clear as transparency, the strange clauses of the
                will.</p>
            </div>
            <div type="chapter" n="3">
                <head>Dr. Jekyll Was Quite at Ease</head>
                <p>A fortnight later, by excellent good fortune, the doctor gave
                one of his pleasant dinners to some five or six old cronies, all
                intelligent, reputable men and all judges of good wine; and Mr.
                Utterson so contrived that he remained behind after the others had
                departed. This was no new arrangement, but a thing that had
                befallen many scores of times. Where Utterson was liked, he was
                liked well. Hosts loved to detain the dry lawyer, when the
                light-hearted and loose-tongued had already their foot on the
                threshold; they liked to sit a while in his unobtrusive company,
                practising for solitude, sobering their minds in the man's rich
                silence after the expense and strain of <ref target="_gaiety" corresp="gaiety">gaiety</ref>
                <note target="_gaiety" xml:id="gaiety" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS"> cheerfulness, mirth.
                Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>. To this rule, Dr.
                Jekyll was no exception; and as he now sat on the opposite side of
                the fire -- a large, well-made, smooth-faced man of fifty, with
                something of a stylish cast perhaps, but every mark of capacity
                and kindness -- you could see by his looks<pb n="15"/>that he cherished for
                Mr. Utterson a sincere and warm affection.
                </p>
                <p>"I have been wanting to speak to you, Jekyll," began the
                latter. "You know that will of yours?"
                </p>
                <p>A close observer might have gathered that the topic was
                distasteful; but the doctor carried it off gaily. "My poor
                Utterson," said he, "you are unfortunate in such a client. I
                never saw a man so distressed as you were by my will; unless it
                were that <ref target="_hide-bound" corresp="hide-bound">hide-bound</ref>
                <note target="_hide-bound" xml:id="hide-bound" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                Restricted in view or scope. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>
                <ref target="_pedant" corresp="pedant">pedant</ref>
                    <note target="_pedant" xml:id="pedant" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                A person who excessively reveres or parades academic learning or technical knowledge, often without discrimination or practical judgement.
                Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> , Lanyon, at what he called my
                scientific heresies. O, I know he's a good fellow -- you needn't
                frown -- an excellent fellow, and I always mean to see more of
                him; but a hide-bound pedant for all that; an ignorant, blatant
                pedant. I was never more disappointed in any man than Lanyon."
                </p>
                <p>"You know I never approved of it," pursued Utterson,
                ruthlessly disregarding the fresh topic.
                </p>
                <p>"My will? Yes, certainly, I know that," said the doctor, a
                trifle sharply. "You have told me so."</p>
                <p>"Well, I tell you so again," continued the lawyer. "I have
                been learning something of young Hyde."
                </p>
                <p>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 hear more," said he. "This is a matter I thought we had agreed
                to drop."
                </p>
                <p>"What I heard was abominable," said Utterson.
                </p>
                <p>"It can make no change. You do not understand my position,"
                returned the doctor, with a certain incoherency of manner. "I am
                painfully situated, Utterson; my position is a very strange -- a
                very strange one. It is one of those affairs that cannot be
                mended by talking."
                </p>
                <p>"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 I can get you out of it."
                </p>
                <p>"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 you in. 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 what you fancy; it is not as bad as that; and just
                to put your good heart at rest, I will tell you one thing: the
                moment I choose, I can be rid of Mr.<pb n="16"/>Hyde. I give you my hand
                upon that; and I thank you again and again; and I will just add
                one little word, Utterson, that I'm sure you'll take in good part:
                this is a private matter, and I beg of you to let it sleep."
                </p>
                <p>Utterson reflected a little, looking in the fire.
                </p>
                <p>"I have no doubt you are perfectly right," he said at last,
                getting to his feet.
                </p>
                <p>"Well, but since we have touched upon this business, and for
                the last time I hope," continued the doctor, "there is one point I
                should like you to understand. I have really a very great
                interest in poor Hyde. I know you have seen him; he told me so;
                and I fear he was rude. But I do sincerely take a great, a very
                great interest in that young man; and if I am taken away,
                Utterson, I wish you to promise me that you will bear with him and
                get his rights for him. I think you would, if you knew all; and
                it would be a weight off my mind if you would promise."
                </p>
                <p>"I can't pretend that I shall ever like him," said the
                lawyer.</p>
                <p>"I don't ask that," pleaded Jekyll, laying his hand upon the
                other's arm; "I only ask for justice; I only ask you to help him
                for my sake, when I am no longer here."
                </p>
                <p>Utterson heaved an irrepressible sigh. "Well," said he,
                "I promise."</p>
            </div>
            <div type="chapter" n="4">
                <head>The Carew Murder Case</head>
                <p>Nearly a year later, in the month of October, 18 --, London was
                startled by a crime of singular ferocity and rendered all the more
                notable by the high position of the victim. The details were few
                and startling. A maid servant living alone in a house not far
                from the river, had gone upstairs to bed about eleven. Although a
                fog rolled over the city in the small hours, the early part of the
                night was cloudless, and the lane, which the maid's window
                overlooked, was brilliantly lit by the full moon. It seems she
                was romantically given, for she sat down upon her box, which stood
                immediately under the window, and fell into a dream of musing.
                Never (she used to say, with streaming tears, when she narrated
                that experience), never had she felt more at peace with all men<pb n="17"/>
                or thought more kindly of the world. And as she so sat she became
                aware of an aged beautiful gentleman with white hair, drawing near
                along the lane; and advancing to meet him, another and very small
                gentleman, to whom at first she paid less attention. When they
                had come within speech (which was just under the maid's eyes) the
                older man bowed and accosted the other with a very pretty manner
                of politeness. It did not seem as if the subject of his address
                were of great importance; indeed, from his pointing, it some times
                appeared as if he were only inquiring his way; but the moon shone
                on his face as he spoke, and the girl was pleased to watch it, it
                seemed to breathe such an innocent and old-world kindness of
                disposition, yet with something high too, as of a well-founded
                self-content. Presently her eye wandered to the other, and she
                was surprised to recognise in him a certain Mr. Hyde, who had once
                visited her master and for whom she had conceived a dislike. He
                had in his hand a heavy cane, with which he was trifling; but he
                answered never a word, and seemed to listen with an ill-contained
                impatience. And then all of a sudden he broke out in a great
                flame of anger, stamping with his foot, brandishing the 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 much
                surprised 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-like fury, he was trampling his victim under foot and hailing
                down a storm of blows, under which the bones were audibly
                shattered and the body jumped upon the roadway. At the horror of
                these sights and sounds, the maid fainted.
                </p>
                <p>It was two o'clock when she came to herself and called for the
                police. The murderer was gone long ago; but there lay his victim
                in the middle of the lane, incredibly mangled. The stick with
                which the deed had been done, although it was of some rare and
                very tough and heavy wood, had broken in the middle under the
                stress of this insensate cruelty; and one splintered half had
                rolled in the neighbouring gutter -- the other, without doubt, had
                been carried away by the murderer. A purse and gold watch were
                found upon the victim: but no cards or papers, except a sealed and
                stamped<pb n="18"/>envelope, which he had been probably carrying to the post,
                and which bore the name and address of Mr. Utterson.
                </p>
                <p>This was brought to the lawyer the next morning, before he was
                out of bed; and he had no sooner seen it and been told the
                circumstances, than he shot out a solemn lip. "I shall say
                nothing till I have seen the body," said he; "this may be very
                serious. Have the kindness to wait while I dress." And with the
                same grave countenance he hurried through his breakfast and drove
                to the police station, whither the body had been carried. As soon
                as he came into the cell, he nodded.
                </p>
                <p>"Yes," said he, "I recognise him. I am sorry to say that this
                is Sir Danvers Carew."
                </p>
                <p>"Good God, sir," exclaimed the officer, "is it possible?" And
                the next moment his eye 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.
                </p>
                <p>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 recognized it for one that he had
                himself presented many years before to Henry Jekyll.
                </p>
                <p>"Is this Mr. Hyde a person of small stature?" he inquired.
                </p>
                <p>"Particularly small and particularly wicked-looking, is what
                the maid calls him," said the officer.
                </p>
                <p>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."
                </p>
                <p>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 marvelous 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, <ref target="_lurid" corresp="lurid">lurid</ref>
                <note target="_lurid" xml:id="lurid" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                Pale and dismal in colour. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note> brown, like
                the light of some strange <ref target="_conflagration" corresp="conflagration">conflagration</ref>
                <note target="_conflagration" xml:id="conflagration" type="gloss" resp="editos.xml#VBS">
                The burning up of (anything) in a destructive fire. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>; and here, for a moment,
                the fog would be quite broken up, and a haggard shaft of daylight
                would glance in between the swirling wreaths. The dismal quarter
                of Soho seen under these changing glimpses, with its muddy ways,
                and <ref target="_slatternly" corresp="slatternly">slatternly</ref>
                <note xml:id="slatternly" target="_slatternly" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                Untidy, slovenly. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> passengers, and its lamps, which had never been
                ex-<pb n="19"/>tinguished or had been kindled afresh to combat this mournful
                reinvasion 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.
                </p>
                <p>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 many 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 <ref target="_quarter-million-pounds" corresp="quarter-million-pounds">quarter of a
                million sterling.</ref>
                    <note target="_quarter-million-pounds" xml:id="quarter-million-pounds" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                This would be about £3,890,000.00 today or around $4,950,000.000.
                Sources: <ref target="https://www.officialdata.org/1860-GBP-in-2018?amount=25000">https://www.officialdata.org/1860-GBP-in-2018?amount=25000</ref> and
                <ref target="https://www.forbes.com/advisor/money-transfer/currency-converter/gbp-usd/?amount=3890000">https://www.forbes.com/advisor/money-transfer/currency-converter/gbp-usd/?amount=3890000</ref>
                </note>
                </p>
                <p>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, but he 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.
                </p>
                <p>"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."
                </p>
                <p>A flash of odious joy appeared upon the woman's face. "Ah!"
                said she, "he is in trouble! What has he done?"
                </p>
                <p>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."
                </p>
                <p>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 <ref target="_napery" corresp="napery">napery</ref>
                <note target="_napery" xml:id="napery" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                Linen used for household purposes. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note>
                elegant; a good picture hung upon the walls, a<pb n="20"/>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; lock-fast drawers stood open; and on the
                hearth there lay a pile of grey ashes, as though many papers had
                been burned. From these embers the inspector disinterred the butt
                end of a green cheque book, which had resisted the action of the
                fire; the other half of the stick was found behind the door; and
                as this clinched his suspicions, the officer declared himself
                delighted. A visit to the bank, where several thousand pounds
                were found to be lying to the murderer's credit, completed his
                gratification.
                </p>
                <p>"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."
                </p>
                <p>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.</p>
            </div>
            <div type="chapter" n="5">
                <head>Incident of the Letter</head>
                <p>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<pb n="21"/>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 <ref target="_cupola" corresp="cupola">cupola</ref>
                <note target="_cupola" xml:id="cupola" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                A rounded vault or dome forming the roof of any building or part of a building, or supported upon columns over a tomb
                Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>. 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 <ref corresp="cheval-glass" target="_cheval-glass">cheval-glass</ref>
                <note xml:id="cheval-glass" target="_cheval-glass" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                A mirror swung on a frame, and of sufficient length to reflect the whole figure. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>
                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.
                </p>
                <p>"And now," said Mr. Utterson, as soon as Poole had left them,
                "you have heard the news?"
                </p>
                <p>The doctor shuddered. "They were crying it in the square," he
                said. "I heard them in my dining-room."
                </p>
                <p>"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?"
                </p>
                <p>"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."
                </p>
                <p>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."
                </p>
                <p>"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<pb n="22"/>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."
                </p>
                <p>"You fear, I suppose, that it might lead to his
                detection?" asked the lawyer.
                </p>
                <p>"No," said the other. "I cannot say that I care what becomes
                of Hyde; I am quite done with him. I was thinking of my own
                character, which this hateful business has rather exposed."
                </p>
                <p>Utterson <ref target="_ruminated" corresp="ruminated">ruminated</ref>
                <note xml:id="ruminated" target="_ruminated" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                To muse, meditate, ponder. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> awhile; he was surprised at his friend's
                selfishness, and yet relieved by it. "Well," said he, at last,
                let me see the letter."
                </p>
                <p>The letter was written in an odd, upright hand and signed
                "Edward Hyde": and it signified, briefly enough, that the writer's
                benefactor, Dr. Jekyll, whom he had long so unworthily repaid for
                a thousand generosities, need labour under no alarm for his
                safety, as he had means of escape on which he placed a sure
                dependence. The lawyer liked this letter well enough; it put a
                better colour on the intimacy than he had looked for; and he
                blamed himself for some of his past suspicions.
                </p>
                <p>"Have you the envelope?" he asked.
                </p>
                <p>"I burned it," replied Jekyll, "before I thought what I was
                about. But it bore no postmark. The note was handed in."
                </p>
                <p>"Shall I keep this and sleep upon it?" asked Utterson.</p>
                <p>"I wish you to judge for me entirely," was the reply. "I have
                lost confidence in myself."
                </p>
                <p>"Well, I shall consider," returned the lawyer. "And now one
                word more: it was Hyde who dictated the terms in your will about
                that disappearance?"
                </p>
                <p>The doctor seemed seized with a qualm of faintness; he shut
                his mouth tight and nodded.
                </p>
                <p>"I knew it," said Utterson. "He meant to murder you. You had
                a fine escape."
                </p>
                <p>"I have had what is far more to the purpose," returned the
                doctor solemnly: "I have had a lesson -- O God, Utterson, what a
                lesson I have had!" And he covered his face for a moment with his
                hands.
                </p>
                <p>On his way out, the lawyer stopped and had a word or<pb n="23"/>two with
                Poole. "By the bye," said he, "there was a letter handed in
                to-day: what was the messenger like?" But Poole was positive
                nothing had come except by post; "and only
                <ref corresp="circulars" target="_circulars">circulars</ref>
                <note xml:id="circulars" target="_circulars" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                'A letter directed to several persons, who have the same interest in some common affair.'
                -Samuel Johnson's <hi rend="italic">A Dictionary of the English Language</hi>
                Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note> by that," he added.
                </p>
                <p>This news sent off the visitor with his fears renewed.
                Plainly the letter had come by the laboratory door; possibly,
                indeed, it had been written in the cabinet; and if that were so,
                it must be differently judged, 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 one friend and client; and he could not
                help a certain apprehension lest the good name of another should
                be sucked down in the eddy of the scandal. 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 longing for advice. It was not to
                be had directly; but perhaps, he thought, it might be fished for.
                </p>
                <p>Presently after, he sat on one side of his own hearth, with
                Mr. Guest, his head clerk, upon the other, and midway between, at
                a nicely calculated distance from the fire, a bottle of a
                particular old wine that had long dwelt unsunned in the
                foundations of his house. The fog still slept on the wing above
                the drowned city, where the lamps glimmered like
                <ref target="_carbuncles" corresp="carbuncles">carbuncles</ref>
                <note xml:id="carbuncles" target="_carbuncles" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                A large precious stone of a red or fiery colour. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note>; and through the muffle and smother of these fallen clouds, the
                procession of the town's life
                was still rolling in through the
                great arteries with a sound as of a mighty wind. But the room was
                gay with firelight. In the bottle the acids were long ago
                resolved; the imperial dye had softened with time, as the colour
                grows richer in stained windows; and the glow of hot autumn
                afternoons on hillside vineyards, was ready to be set free 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. Guest had
                often been on business to the doctor's; he knew Poole; he could
                scarce have failed to hear of Mr. Hyde's familiarity about the
                house; he might draw conclusions: was it not as well, then, that
                he should see a letter which put that mystery to right? and above
                all since Guest, being a<pb n="24"/>great student and critic of handwriting,
                would consider the step natural and obliging? The clerk, besides,
                was a man of counsel; he could scarce read so strange a document
                without dropping a remark; and by that remark Mr. Utterson might
                shape his future course.
                </p>
                <p>"This is a sad business about Sir Danvers," he said.
                </p>
                <p>"Yes, sir, indeed. It has elicited a great deal of public
                feeling," returned Guest. "The man, of course, was mad."
                </p>
                <p>"I should like to hear your views on that," replied Utterson.
                "I have a document here in his handwriting; it is between
                ourselves, for I scarce know what to do about it; it is an ugly
                business at the best. But there it is; quite in your way: a
                murderer's autograph."
                </p>
                <p>Guest's eyes brightened, and he sat down at once and studied
                it with passion. "No sir," he said: "not mad; but it is an odd
                hand."
                </p>
                <p>"And by all accounts a very odd writer," added the lawyer.
                </p>
                <p>Just then the servant entered with a note.
                </p>
                <p>"Is that from Dr. Jekyll, sir?" inquired the clerk. "I
                thought I knew the writing. Anything private, Mr. Utterson?
                </p>
                <p>"Only an invitation to dinner. Why? Do you want to see
                it?"
                </p>
                <p>"One moment. I thank you, sir;" and the clerk laid the two
                sheets of paper alongside and <ref corresp="sedulously" target="_sedulously">sedulously</ref>
                <note xml:id="sedulously" target="_sedulously" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                Diligently, attentively. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> compared their contents.
                "Thank you, sir," he said at last, returning both; "it's a very
                interesting autograph."</p>
                <p>There was a pause, during which Mr. Utterson struggled with
                himself. "Why did you compare them, Guest?" he inquired suddenly.
                </p>
                <p>"Well, sir," returned the clerk, "there's a rather singular
                resemblance; the two hands are in many points identical: only
                differently sloped."
                </p>
                <p>"Rather quaint," said Utterson.
                </p>
                <p>"It is, as you say, rather quaint," returned Guest.
                </p>
                <p>"I wouldn't speak of this note, you know," said the
                master.
                </p>
                <p>"No, sir," said the clerk. "I understand."
                </p>
                <p>But no sooner was Mr. Utterson alone that night, than he
                locked the note into his safe, where it reposed from that<pb n="25"/>time
                forward. "What!" he thought. "Henry Jekyll forge for a
                murderer!" And his blood ran cold in his veins.</p>
            </div>
            <div type="chapter" n="6">
                <head>Remarkable Incident of Dr. Lanyon</head>
                <p>Time ran on; thousands of pounds were offered in reward, for the
                death of Sir Danvers was resented as a public injury; but Mr.
                Hyde had disappeared out of the ken of the police as though he had
                never existed. Much of his past was unearthed, indeed, and all
                disreputable: tales came out of the man's cruelty, at once so
                callous and violent; of his vile life, of his strange associates,
                of the hatred that seemed to have surrounded his career; but of
                his present whereabouts, not a whisper. From the time he had left
                the house in Soho on the morning of the murder, he was simply
                blotted out; and gradually, as time drew on, Mr. Utterson began to
                recover from the hotness of his alarm, and to grow more at quiet
                with himself. The death of Sir Danvers was, to his way of
                thinking, more than paid for by the disappearance of Mr. Hyde.
                Now that that evil influence had been withdrawn, a new life began
                for Dr. Jekyll. He came out of his seclusion, renewed relations
                with his friends, became once more their familiar guest and
                entertainer; and whilst he had always been known for charities, he
                was now no less distinguished for religion. He was busy, he was
                much in the open air, he did good; his face seemed to open and
                brighten, as if with an inward consciousness of service; and for
                more than two months, the doctor was at peace.
                </p>
                <p>On the 8th of January Utterson had dined at the doctor's with
                a small party; Lanyon had been there; and the face of the host had
                looked from one to the other as in the old days when the trio were
                inseparable friends. On the 12th, and again on the 14th, the door
                was shut against the lawyer. "The doctor was confined to the
                house," Poole said, "and saw no one." On the 15th, he tried again,
                and was again refused; and having now been used for the last two
                months to see his friend almost daily, he found this return of
                solitude to weigh upon his spirits. The fifth night he had in <pb n="26"/>
                Guest to dine with him; and the sixth he <ref target="_betook" corresp="betook">betook</ref>
                <note target="_betook" xml:id="betook" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                To commit oneself, have recourse or resort to any kind of action. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note>himself to Dr. Lanyon's.
                </p>
                <p>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's appearance. He had his death-warrant written legibly
                upon his face. The rosy man had grown pale; his flesh had fallen
                away; he was visibly balder and older; and yet it was not so much
                these tokens of a swift physical decay that arrested the lawyer's
                notice, as a look in the eye and quality of manner that seemed to
                testify to some deep-seated terror of the mind. It was unlikely
                that the doctor should fear death; and yet that was what Utterson
                was tempted to suspect. "Yes," he thought; "he is a doctor, he
                must know his own state and that his days are counted; and the
                knowledge is more than he can bear." And yet when Utterson
                remarked on his ill-looks, it was with an air of great firmness
                that Lanyon declared himself a doomed man.
                </p>
                <p>"I have had a shock," he said, "and I shall never recover. It
                is a question 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
                should be more glad to get away."
                </p>
                <p>"Jekyll is ill, too," observed Utterson. "Have you seen
                him?"
                </p>
                <p>But Lanyon's face changed, and he held up a trembling had.
                "I wish to see or hear no more of Dr. Jekyll," he said in a loud,
                unsteady voice. "I am quite done with that person; and I beg that
                you will spare me any <ref corresp="allusion" target="_allusion">allusion</ref>
                <note xml:id="allusion" target="_allusion" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                An implied, indirect, or passing reference to a person or thing. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note>to one whom I regard as dead."
                </p>
                <p>"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."
                </p>
                <p>"Nothing can be done," returned Lanyon; "ask himself."
                </p>
                <p>"He will not see me," said the lawyer.
                </p>
                <p>"I am not surprised at that," was the reply. "Some day,
                Utterson, after I am dead, you may perhaps come to learn the right
                and wrong of this. I cannot tell you. And in the meantime, if
                you can sit and talk with me of other things, for God's sake, stay
                and do so; but if you cannot keep clear of this accursed topic,
                then in God's name, go, for I cannot bear it."
                </p>
                <pb n="27"/>
                <p>As soon as he got home, Utterson sat down and wrote to
                Jekyll, complaining of his exclusion from the house, and asking the cause
                of this unhappy break with Lanyon; and the next day brought him a
                long answer, often very pathetically worded, and sometimes darkly
                mysterious in drift. The quarrel with Lanyon was incurable. "I
                do not blame our old friend," Jekyll wrote, but I share his view
                that we must never meet. I mean from henceforth to lead a life of
                extreme seclusion; you must not be surprised, nor must you doubt
                my friendship, if my door is often shut even to you. You must
                suffer me to go my own dark way. I have brought on myself a
                punishment and a danger that I cannot name. If I am the chief of
                sinners, I am the chief of sufferers also. I could not think that
                this earth contained a place for sufferings and terrors so
                <ref target="_unmanning" corresp="unmanning">unmanning</ref>
                <note xml:id="unmanning" target="_unmanning" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                That unmans a person; emasculating, enervating. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note>; and you can do but one thing, Utterson, to lighten this
                destiny, and that is to respect my silence." Utterson was amazed;
                the dark influence of Hyde had been withdrawn, the doctor had
                returned to his old tasks and amities; a week ago, the prospect
                had smiled with every promise of a cheerful and an honoured age;
                and now in a moment, friendship, and peace of mind, and the whole
                <ref corresp="tenor" target="_tenor">tenor</ref>
                <note xml:id="tenor" target="_tenor" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                Senses relating to continuous meaning or purpose. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> of his life were wrecked. So great and unprepared a change
                pointed to madness; but in view of Lanyon's manner and words,
                there must lie for it some deeper ground.
                </p>
                <p>A week afterwards Dr. Lanyon took to his bed, and in something
                less than a fortnight he was dead. The night after the funeral,
                at which he had been sadly affected, Utterson locked the door of
                his business room, and sitting there by the light of a melancholy
                candle, drew out and set before him an envelope addressed by the
                hand and sealed with the seal of his dead friend. "PRIVATE: for
                the hands of G. J. Utterson ALONE, and in case of his predecease
                <hi rend="italic">to be destroyed unread</hi>," so it was
                <ref target="_emphatically" corresp="emphatically">emphatically</ref>
                <note xml:id="emphatically" target="_emphatically" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                In an emphatic or forceful way; with emphasis. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>
                <ref target="_superscribed" corresp="superscribed">superscribed</ref>
                <note xml:id="superscribed" target="_superscribed" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                The address to a person. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>; and
                the lawyer dreaded to behold the contents. "I have buried one
                friend to-day," he thought: "what if this should cost me another?"
                And then he condemned the fear as a disloyalty, and broke the
                seal. Within there was another enclosure, likewise sealed, and
                marked upon the cover as "not to be opened till the death or
                disappearance of Dr. Henry Jekyll." Utter-<pb n="28"/>son could not trust his
                eyes. Yes, it was disappearance; here again, as in the mad will
                which he had long ago
                restored to its author, here again were the
                idea of a disappearance and the name of Henry Jekyll bracketted.
                But in the will, that idea had sprung from the sinister suggestion
                of the man Hyde; it was set there with a purpose all too plain and
                horrible. Written by the hand of Lanyon, what should it mean? A
                great curiosity came on the trustee, to disregard the prohibition
                and dive at once to the bottom of these mysteries; but
                professional honour and faith to his dead friend were
                <ref corresp="stringent" target="_stringent">stringent</ref>
                <note xml:id="stringent" target="_stringent" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                Rigorous, strict, thoroughgoing. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>
                obligations; and the packet slept in the inmost corner of his
                private safe.
                </p>
                <p>It is one thing to mortify curiosity, another to conquer it;
                and it may be doubted if, from that day forth, Utterson desired
                the society of his surviving friend with the same eagerness. He
                thought of him kindly; but his thoughts were disquieted and
                fearful. He went to call indeed; but he was perhaps relieved to
                be denied admittance; perhaps, in his heart, he preferred to speak
                with Poole upon the doorstep and surrounded by the air and sounds
                of the open city, rather than to be admitted into that house of
                voluntary bondage, and to sit and speak with its
                <ref target="_inscrutable" corresp="inscrutable">inscrutable</ref>
                <note xml:id="inscrutable" target="_inscrutable" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                That cannot be searched into or found out by searching. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>
                recluse. Poole had, indeed, no very pleasant news to communicate.
                The doctor, it appeared, now more than ever confined himself to
                the cabinet over the laboratory, where he would sometimes even
                sleep; he was out of spirits, he had grown very silent, he did not
                read; it seemed as if he had something on his mind. Utterson
                became so used to the unvarying character of these reports, that
                he fell off little by little in the frequency of his
                visits.</p>
            </div>
            <div type="chapter" n="7">
                <head>Incident at the Window</head>
                <p>It chanced on Sunday, when Mr. Utterson was on his usual walk with
                Mr. Enfield, that their way lay once again through the by-street;
                and that when they came in front of the door, both stopped to gaze on it.
                </p>
                <p>"Well," said Enfield, "that story's at an end at least. We
                shall never see more of Mr. Hyde."
                </p>
                <pb n="29"/>
                <p>"I hope not," said Utterson. "Did I ever tell you that I once
                saw him, and shared your feeling of repulsion?"
                </p>
                <p>"It was impossible to do the one without the other," returned
                Enfield. "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 was
                partly your own fault that I found it out, even when I did."
                </p>
                <p>"So you found it out, did you?" said Utterson. "But if that
                be so, we may step into the court and take a look at the windows.
                To tell you the truth, I am uneasy about poor Jekyll; and even
                outside, I feel as if the presence of a friend might do him
                good."
                </p>
                <p>The court was very cool and a little damp, and full of
                premature twilight, although the sky, high up overhead, was still
                bright with sunset. The middle one of the three windows was
                half-way open; and sitting close beside it, taking the air with an
                infinite sadness of <ref target="_mien" corresp="mien">mien</ref>
                <note target="_mien" xml:id="mien" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                The look, bearing, or manner, of a person, shown by character, mood, etc.
                Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>,
                like some <ref corresp="disconsolate" target="_disconsolate">disconsolate</ref>
                <note xml:id="disconsolate" target="_disconsolate" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                Cheerless, gloomy. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note> prisoner,
                Utterson saw Dr. Jekyll.
                </p>
                <p>"What! Jekyll!" he cried. "I trust you are better."
                </p>
                <p>"I am very low, Utterson," replied the doctor drearily, "very
                low. It will not last long, thank God."
                </p>
                <p>"You stay too much indoors," said the lawyer. "You should be
                out, whipping up the circulation like Mr. Enfield and me. (This
                is my cousin -- Mr. Enfield -- Dr. Jekyll.) Come now; get your
                hat and take a quick turn with us."
                </p>
                <p>"You are very good," sighed the other. "I should like to very
                much; but no, no, no, it is quite impossible; I dare not. But
                indeed, Utterson, I am very
                glad to see you; this is really a
                great pleasure; I would ask you and Mr. Enfield up, but the place
                is really not fit."
                </p>
                <p>"Why, then," said the lawyer, good-naturedly, "the best thing
                we can do is to stay down here and speak with you from where we
                are."
                </p>
                <p>"That is just what I was about to venture to propose,"
                returned the doctor with a smile. But the words were hardly
                uttered, before the smile was struck out of his face and succeed
                by an expression of such abject terror and despair, as froze the
                very blood of the two gentlemen below. They saw it but for a
                glimpse for the window was instantly thrust down; but that glimpse
                had been sufficient, and they turned<pb n="30"/>and left the court without a
                word. In silence, too, they traversed the by-street; and it was
                not until they had come into a neighbouring thoroughfare, where
                even upon a Sunday there were still some stirrings of life, that
                Mr. Utterson at last turned and looked at his companion. They
                were both pale; and there was an answering horror in their eyes.
                </p>
                <p>"God forgive us, God forgive us," said Mr. Utterson.
                </p>
                <p>But Mr. Enfield only nodded his head very seriously, and
                walked on once more in silence.</p>
            </div>
            <div type="chapter" n="8">
                <head>The Last Night</head>
                <p>Mr. Utterson was sitting by his fireside one evening after dinner,
                when he was surprised to receive a visit from Poole.
                </p>
                <p>"Bless me, Poole, what brings you here?" he cried; and then
                taking a second look at him, "What ails you?" he added; is the
                doctor ill?"
                </p>
                <p>"Mr. Utterson," said the man, "there is something wrong."
                </p>
                <p>"Take a seat, and here is a glass of wine for you," said the
                lawyer. "Now, take your time, and tell me plainly what you want."
                </p>
                <p>"You know the doctor's ways, sir," replied Poole, "and how he
                shuts himself up. Well, he's shut up again in the cabinet; and I
                don't like it, sir -- I wish I may die if I like it. Mr.
                Utterson, sir, I'm afraid."
                </p>
                <p>"Now, my good man," said the lawyer, "be explicit. What
                are you afraid of?"
                </p>
                <p>"I've been afraid for about a week," returned Poole, doggedly
                disregarding the question, "and I can bear it no more."
                </p>
                <p>The man's appearance amply bore out his words; his manner was
                altered for the worse; and except for the moment when he had first
                announced his terror, he had not once looked the lawyer in the
                face. Even now, he sat with the glass of wine untasted on his
                knee, and his eyes directed to a corner of the floor. "I can bear
                it no more,"he repeated.
                </p>
                <p>"Come," said the lawyer, "I see you have some good reason,
                Poole; I see there is something seriously amiss. Try to tell me
                what it is."
                </p>
                <pb n="31"/>
                <p>"I think there's been foul play," said Poole, hoarsely.
                </p>
                <p>"Foul play!" cried the lawyer, a good deal frightened and
                rather inclined to be irritated in consequence. "What foul play!
                What does the man mean?"</p>
                <p>"I daren't say, sir," was the answer; but will you come along
                with me and see for yourself?"
                </p>
                <p>Mr. Utterson's only answer was to rise and get his hat and
                greatcoat; but he observed with wonder the greatness of the relief
                that appeared upon the butler's face, and perhaps with no less,
                that the wine was still untasted when he set it down to follow.
                </p>
                <p>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
                flying wrack of the most <ref target="_diaphanous" corresp="diaphanous">diaphanous</ref>
                <note xml:id="diaphanous" target="_diaphanous" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                Perfectly transparent. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>
                and <ref corresp="lawny" target="_lawny">lawny</ref>
                <note xml:id="lawny" target="_lawny" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                A kind of fine linen. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note> texture. The wind
                made talking difficult, and flecked the blood into the face. It
                seemed to have swept the streets unusually bare of passengers,
                besides; for Mr. Utterson thought he had never seen that part of
                London so deserted. He could have wished it otherwise; never in
                his life had he been conscious of so sharp a wish to see and touch
                his fellow-creatures; for struggle as he might, there was borne in
                upon his mind a crushing anticipation of calamity. The square,
                when they got there, was full of wind and dust, and the thin trees
                in the garden were lashing themselves along the railing. Poole,
                who had kept all the way a pace or two ahead, now pulled up in the
                middle of the pavement, and in spite of the biting weather, took
                off his hat and mopped his brow with a red pocket-handkerchief.
                But for all the hurry of his coming, these were not the dews of
                exertion that he wiped away, but the moisture of some strangling
                anguish; for his face was white and his voice, when he spoke,
                harsh and broken.
                </p>
                <p>"Well, sir," he said, "here we are, and God grant there be
                nothing wrong."
                </p>
                <p>"Amen, Poole," said the lawyer.
                </p>
                <p>Thereupon the servant knocked in a very guarded manner; the
                door was opened on the chain; and a voice asked from within, "Is
                that you, Poole?"
                </p>
                <p>"It's all right," said Poole. "Open the door."
                </p>
                <p>The hall, when they entered it, was brightly lighted up;<pb n="32"/>the
                fire was built high; and about the hearth the whole of the
                servants, men and women, stood huddled together like a flock of
                sheep. At the sight of Mr. Utterson, the housemaid broke into
                hysterical whimpering; and the cook, crying out "Bless God! it's
                Mr. Utterson," ran forward as if to take him in her arms.
                </p>
                <p>"What, what? Are you all here?" said the lawyer peevishly.
                "Very irregular, very unseemly; your master would be far from
                pleased."
                </p>
                <p>"They're all afraid," said Poole.
                </p>
                <p>Blank silence followed, no one protesting; only the maid
                lifted her voice and now wept loudly.
                </p>
                <p>"Hold your tongue!" Poole said to her, with a ferocity of
                accent that testified to his own jangled nerves; and indeed, when
                the girl had so suddenly raised the note of her lamentation, they
                had all started and turned towards the inner door with faces of
                dreadful expectation. "And now," continued the butler, addressing
                the knife-boy, "reach me a candle, and we'll get this through
                hands at once." And then he begged Mr. Utterson to follow him,
                and led the way to the back garden.
                </p>
                <p>"Now, sir," said he, "you come as gently as you can. I want
                you to hear, and I don't want you to be heard. And see here, sir,
                if by any chance he was to ask you in, don't go."
                </p>
                <p>Mr. Utterson's nerves, at this <ref target="_unlooked-for" corresp="unlooked-for">unlooked-for</ref>
                <note target="_unlooked-for" xml:id="unlooked-for" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                Not expected; unanticipated or unforeseen. Source: Oxford English Dictinary</note>
                termination, gave
                a jerk that nearly threw him from his balance; but he recollected
                his courage and followed the butler into the laboratory building
                through the surgical theatre, with its lumber of crates and
                bottles, to the foot of the stair. Here Poole motioned him to
                stand on one side and listen; while he himself, setting down the
                candle and making a great and obvious call on his resolution,
                mounted the steps and knocked with a somewhat uncertain hand on
                the red <ref corresp="baize" target="_baize">baize</ref>
                <note xml:id="baize" target="_baize" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                A coarse woollen stuff, having a long nap, now used chiefly for linings, coverings, curtains.
                Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note> of the cabinet door.
                </p>
                <p>"Mr. Utterson, sir, asking to see you," he called; and even as
                he did so, once more violently signed to the lawyer to give ear.
                </p>
                <p>A voice answered from within: "Tell him I cannot see
                anyone," it said complainingly.
                </p>
                <pb n="33"/>
                <p>"Thank you, sir," said Poole, with a note of something like
                triumph in his voice; and taking up his candle, he led Mr.
                Utterson back across the yard and into the great kitchen, where
                the fire was out and the beetles were leaping on the floor.
                </p>
                <p>"Sir," he said, looking Mr. Utterson in the eyes, "Was
                that my
                master's voice?"</p>
                <p>"It seems much changed," replied the lawyer, very pale, but
                giving look for look.
                </p>
                <p>"Changed? Well, yes, I think so," said the butler. "Have I
                been twenty years in this man's house, to be deceived about his
                voice? No, sir; master's made away with; he was made away with
                eight days ago, when we heard him cry out upon the name of God;
                and who's in there instead of him, and why it stays there, is a
                thing that cries to Heaven, Mr. Utterson!"
                </p>
                <p>"This is a very strange tale, Poole; this is rather a wild
                tale my man," said Mr. Utterson, biting his finger. "Suppose it
                were as you suppose, supposing Dr. Jekyll to have been -- well,
                murdered what could induce the murderer to stay? That won't hold
                water; it doesn't commend itself to reason."
                </p>
                <p>"Well, Mr. Utterson, you are a hard man to satisfy, but I'll
                do it yet," said Poole. "All this last week (you must know) him,
                or it, whatever it is that lives in that cabinet, has been crying
                night and day for some sort of medicine and cannot get it to his
                mind. It was sometimes his way -- the master's, that is -- to
                write 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 a
                closed door, and the very meals left there to be smuggled in when
                nobody was looking. Well, sir, every day, ay, and twice and
                thrice in the same day, there have been orders and complaints, and
                I have been sent flying to all the wholesale chemists in town.
                Every time I brought the stuff back, there would be another paper
                telling me to return it, because it was not pure, and another
                order to a different firm. This drug is wanted bitter bad, sir,
                whatever for."
                </p>
                <p>"Have you any of these papers?" asked Mr. Utterson.
                </p>
                <p>Poole felt in his pocket and handed out a crumpled note,<pb n="34"/>which
                the lawyer, bending nearer to the candle, carefully examined. Its
                contents ran thus: "Dr. Jekyll presents his compliments to <ref target="_messrs" corresp="messrs">Messrs</ref>
                <note xml:id="messrs" target="_messrs" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                An abbreviation of the form of address to a French-speaking man. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>.
                Maw. He assures them that their last sample is impure and quite
                useless for his present purpose. In the year 18-- , Dr. J.
                purchased a somewhat large quantity from Messrs. M. He now begs
                them to search with most sedulous care, and should any of the same
                quality be left, forward it to him at once. Expense is no
                consideration. The importance of this to Dr. J. can hardly be
                exaggerated." So far the letter had run composedly enough, but
                here with a sudden splutter of the pen, the writer's emotion had
                broken loose. "For God's sake," he added, "find me some of the
                old."
                </p>
                <p>"This is a strange note," said Mr. Utterson; and then sharply,
                "How do you come to have it open?"
                </p>
                <p>"The man at Maw's was main angry, sir, and he threw it back to
                me like so much dirt," returned Poole.
                </p>
                <p>"This is unquestionably the doctor's hand, do you know?"
                resumed the lawyer.
                </p>
                <p>"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!"
                </p>
                <p>"Seen him?" repeated Mr. Utterson. "Well?"
                </p>
                <p>"That's it!" said Poole. "It was this way. I came suddenly
                into the theater from the garden. It seems he had slipped out to
                look for this drug or whatever it is; for the cabinet door was
                open, and there he was at the far end of the room digging among
                the crates. He looked up when I came in, gave a kind of cry, and
                whipped upstairs into the cabinet. It was but for one minute that
                I saw him, but the hair 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 he cry out like a rat, and run from me? I have
                served him long enough. And then..." The man paused and passed
                his hand over his face.
                </p>
                <p>"These are all very strange circumstances," said Mr.
                Utterson, "but I think I begin to see daylight. Your master,
                Poole, is plainly seized with one of those <ref corresp="maladies" target="_maladies">maladies</ref>
                <note xml:id="maladies" target="_maladies" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                A specific kind of illness; an ailment, a disease. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note> that both
                torture and deform the sufferer; hence, for aught I know, the
                alteration of his voice; hence the mask and the<pb n="35"/>avoidance of his
                friends; hence his eagerness to find this drug, by means of which
                the poor soul retains some hope of ultimate recovery -- God grant
                that he be not deceived! There is my explanation; it is sad
                enough, Poole, ay, and appalling to consider; but it is plain and
                natural, hangs well together, and delivers us from all
                <ref target="_exorbitant" corresp="exorbitant">exorbitant</ref>
                <note xml:id="exorbitant" target="_exorbitant" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                Going to excess in any action or quality. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> alarms."
                </p>
                <p>"Sir," said the butler, turning to a sort of
                <ref corresp="mottled" target="_mottled">mottled</ref>
                <note target="_mottled" xml:id="mottled" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                Dappled with spots, patches, or blotches. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note> pallor,
                "that thing was not my master, and there's the truth. My
                master" -- here he looked round him and began to whisper -- "is a
                tall, fine build of a man,
                and this was more of a dwarf."
                Utterson attempted to protest. "O, sir," cried Poole, "do you
                think I do not know my master after twenty years? Do you think I
                do not know where his head comes to in the cabinet door, where I
                saw him every morning of my life? No, sir, that thing in the mask
                was never Dr. Jekyll -- God knows what it was, but it was never
                Dr. Jekyll; and it is the belief of my heart that there was murder
                done."
                </p>
                <p>"Poole," replied the lawyer, "if you say that, it will become
                my duty to make certain. Much as I desire to spare your master's
                feelings, much as I am puzzled by this note which seems to prove
                him to be still alive, I shall consider it my duty to break in
                that door."
                </p>
                <p>"Ah, Mr. Utterson, that's talking!" cried the butler.
                </p>
                <p>"And now comes the second question," resumed Utterson:
                "Who is going to do it?"
                </p>
                <p>"Why, you and me, sir," was the undaunted reply.
                </p>
                <p>"That's very well said," returned the lawyer; "and whatever
                comes of it, I shall make it my business to see you are no
                loser."
                </p>
                <p>"There is an axe in the theatre," continued Poole; "and you
                might take the kitchen poker for yourself."
                </p>
                <p>The lawyer took that <ref corresp="rude" target="_rude">rude</ref>
                <note xml:id="rude" target="_rude" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                Basic in standard; unsophisticated. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> but weighty instrument into his
                hand, and balanced it. "Do you know, Poole," he said, looking up,
                "that you and I are about to place ourselves in a position of
                some peril?"
                </p>
                <p>"You may say so, sir, indeed," returned the butler.
                </p>
                <p>"It is well, then that we should be frank," said the other.
                "We both think more than we have said; let us make a clean breast.
                This masked figure that you saw, did you recognise it?"
                </p>
                <pb n="36"/>
                <p>"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
                you mean, was it Mr. Hyde? -- why, yes, I think it was!" You see,
                it was much of the same bigness; and it had the same quick, light
                way with it; and then who else could have got in by the laboratory
                door? You have not forgot, sir, that at the time of the murder he
                had still the key with him? But that's not all. I don't know,
                Mr. Utterson, if you ever met this Mr. Hyde?"
                </p>
                <p>"Yes," said the lawyer, "I once spoke with him."</p>
                <p>"Then you must know as well as the rest of us that there was
                something queer about that gentleman -- something that gave a man
                a turn -- I don't know rightly how to say it, sir, beyond this:
                that you felt in your marrow kind of cold and thin."
                </p>
                <p>"I own I felt something of what you describe," said Mr.
                Utterson.
                </p>
                <p>"Quite so, sir," returned Poole. "Well, when that masked
                thing like a monkey jumped from among the chemicals and whipped
                into the cabinet, it went down my spine like ice. O, I know it's
                not evidence, Mr. Utterson; I'm book-learned enough for that; but
                a man has his feelings, and I give you my bible-word it was Mr.
                Hyde!"
                </p>
                <p>"Ay, ay," said the lawyer. "My fears incline to the same
                point. Evil, I fear, founded -- evil was sure to come -- of that
                connection. Ay truly, I believe you; I believe poor Harry is
                killed; and I believe his murderer (for what purpose, God alone
                can tell) is still lurking in his victim's room. Well, let our
                name be vengeance. Call Bradshaw."
                </p>
                <p>The footman came at the summons, very white and nervous.
                </p>
                <p>"Put yourself together, Bradshaw," said the lawyer. "This
                suspense, I know, is telling upon all of you; but it is now our
                intention to make an end of it. Poole, here, and I are going to
                force our way into the cabinet. If all is well, my shoulders are
                broad enough to bear the blame. Meanwhile, lest anything should
                really be amiss, or any <ref target="_malefactor" corresp="malefactor">malefactor</ref>
                <note target="_malefactor" xml:id="malefactor" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                An evildoer; a person who behaves badly or wickedly towards another. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> seek to escape by the back, you
                and the boy must go round the corner with a pair of good sticks
                and take your<pb n="37"/>post at the laboratory door. We give you ten
                minutes, to get to your stations."
                </p>
                <p>As Bradshaw left, the lawyer looked at his watch. "And now,
                Poole, let us get to ours," he said; and taking the poker under
                his arm, led the way into the yard. The
                <ref corresp="scud" target="_scud">scud</ref>
                <note target="_scud" xml:id="scud" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                Light clouds driven rapidly before the wind. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> had banked over the
                moon, and it was now quite dark. The wind, which only broke in
                puffs and draughts into that deep well of building, tossed the
                light of the candle to and fro about their steps, until they came
                into the shelter of the theatre, where they sat down silently to
                wait. London hummed solemnly all around; but nearer at hand, the
                stillness was only broken by the sounds of a footfall moving to
                and fro along the cabinet floor.</p>
                <p>"So it will walk all day, sir," whispered Poole; "ay, and the
                better part of the night. Only when a new sample comes from the
                chemist, there's a bit of a break. Ah, it's an ill conscience
                that'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 your
                heart in your ears, Mr. Utterson, and tell me, is that the
                doctor's foot?"
                </p>
                <p>The steps fell lightly and oddly, with a certain swing, for
                all they went so slowly; it was different indeed from the heavy
                creaking tread of Henry Jekyll. Utterson sighed. "Is there never
                anything else?" he asked.
                </p>
                <p>Poole nodded. "Once," he said. "Once I heard it weeping!"
                </p>
                <p>"Weeping? how that?" said the lawyer, conscious of a sudden
                chill of horror.
                </p>
                <p>"Weeping like a woman or a lost soul," said the butler. "I
                came away with that upon my heart, that I could have wept too."
                </p>
                <p>But now the ten minutes drew to an end. Poole disinterred the
                axe from under a stack of packing straw; the candle was set upon
                the nearest table to light them to the attack; and they drew near
                with bated breath to where that patient foot was still going up
                and down, up and down, in the quiet of the night.
                </p>
                <p>"Jekyll," cried Utterson, with a loud voice, "I demand to see you." He paused a
                moment, but there came no reply. "I give you fair warning, our
                suspicions are aroused, and I must and shall see you," he resumed;
                "if not by fair means,<pb n="38"/>then by foul -- if not of your consent,
                then by brute force!"
                </p>
                <p>"Utterson," said the voice, "for God's sake, have mercy!"
                </p>
                <p>"Ah, that's not Jekyll's voice -- it's Hyde's!" cried
                Utterson. "Down with the door, Poole!"
                </p>
                <p>Poole swung the axe over his shoulder; the blow shook the
                building, and the red baize door leaped against the lock and
                hinges. A dismal screech, as of mere animal terror, rang from the
                cabinet. Up went the axe again, and again the panels crashed and
                the frame bounded; four times the blow fell; but the wood was
                tough and the fittings were of excellent workmanship; and it was
                not until the fifth, that the lock burst and the wreck of the door
                fell inwards on the carpet.
                </p>
                <p>The besiegers, appalled by their own riot and the stillness
                that had succeeded, stood back a little and peered in. There lay
                the cabinet before their eyes
                in the quiet lamplight, a good fire
                glowing and chattering on the hearth, the kettle singing its thin
                strain, a drawer or two open, papers neatly set forth on the
                business table, and nearer the fire, the things laid out for tea;
                the quietest room, you would have said, and, but for the glazed
                presses full of chemicals, the most commonplace that night in
                <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London.</placeName>
                </p>
                <p>Right in the middle there lay the body of a man sorely
                contorted and still twitching. They drew near on tiptoe, turned
                it on its back and beheld the face of Edward Hyde. He was dressed
                in clothes far to large for him, clothes of the doctor's bigness;
                the cords of his face still moved with a semblance of life, but
                life was quite gone: and by the crushed <ref corresp="phial" target="_phial">phial</ref>
                <note xml:id="phial" target="_phial" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="editorial">
                I.e. vial</note> in the hand and the
                strong smell of kernels that hung upon the air, Utterson knew that
                he was looking on the body of a self-destroyer.
                </p>
                <p>"We have come too late," he said sternly, "whether to save or
                punish. Hyde is gone to his account; and it only remains for us
                to find the body of your master."
                </p>
                <p>The far greater proportion of the building was occupied by
                the theatre, which filled almost the whole ground storey and was
                lighted from above, and by the cabinet, which formed an upper
                story at one end and looked upon the court. A corridor joined the
                theatre to the door on the by-street; and with this the cabinet
                communicated separately by a second<pb n="39"/>flight of stairs. There were
                besides a few dark closets and a spacious cellar. All these they
                now thoroughly examined. Each closet needed but a glance, for all
                were empty, and all, by the dust that fell from their doors, had
                stood long unopened. The cellar, indeed, was filled with crazy
                lumber, mostly dating from the times of the surgeon who was
                Jekyll's predecessor; but even as they opened the door they were
                advertised of the uselessness of further search, by the fall of a
                perfect mat of cobweb which had for years sealed up the entrance.
                No where was there any trace of Henry Jekyll dead or alive.
                </p>
                <p>Poole stamped on the flags of the corridor. "He must be
                buried here," he said, hearkening to the sound.
                </p>
                <p>"Or he may have fled," said Utterson, and he turned to
                examine
                the door in the by-street. It was locked; and lying near by on
                the flags, they found the key, already stained with rust.
                </p>
                <p>"This does not look like use," observed the lawyer.
                </p>
                <p>"Use!" echoed Poole. "Do you not see, sir, it is broken?
                much as if a man had stamped on it."
                </p>
                <p>"Ay," continued Utterson, "and the fractures, too, are
                rusty."
                The two men looked at each other with a scare. "This is beyond
                me, Poole," said the lawyer. "Let us go back to the cabinet."
                </p>
                <p>They mounted the stair in silence, and still with an
                occasional awestruck glance at the dead body, proceeded more
                thoroughly to examine the contents of the cabinet. At one table,
                there were traces of chemical work, various measured heaps of some
                white salt being laid on glass saucers, as though for an
                experiment in which the unhappy man had been prevented.
                </p>
                <p>"That is the same drug that I was always bringing him," said
                Poole; and even as he spoke, the kettle with a startling noise
                boiled over.
                </p>
                <p>This brought them to the fireside, where the easy-chair was
                drawn cosily 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
                to find it a copy of a pious work, for which Jekyll had several
                times expressed a great esteem,<pb n="40"/>annotated, in his own hand with
                startling blasphemies.
                </p>
                <p>Next, in the course of their review of the chamber, the
                searchers came to the cheval-glass, into whose depths they looked
                with an involuntary horror. But it was so turned as to show them
                nothing but the rosy glow playing on the roof, the fire sparkling
                in a hundred repetitions along the glazed front of the presses,
                and their own pale and fearful countenances stooping to look in.
                </p>
                <p>"This glass has seen some strange things, sir," whispered
                Poole.
                </p>
                <p>"And surely none stranger than itself," echoed the lawyer in
                the same tones. "For what did Jekyll" -- he caught himself up at
                the word with a start, and then conquering the weakness -- "what
                could Jekyll want with it?" he said.
                </p>
                <p>"You may say that!" said Poole.</p>
                <p>Next they turned to the business table. On the desk, among
                the neat array of papers, a large envelope was uppermost, and
                bore, in the doctor's hand, the name of Mr. Utterson. The lawyer
                unsealed it, and several enclosures fell to the floor. The first
                was a will, drawn in the same eccentric terms as the one which he
                had returned six months before, to serve as a testament in case of
                death and as a deed of gift in case of disappearance; but in place
                of the name of Edward Hyde, the lawyer, with indescribable
                amazement read the name of Gabriel John Utterson. He looked at
                Poole, and then back at the paper, and last of all at the dead
                malefactor stretched upon the carpet.
                </p>
                <p>"My head goes round," he said. "He has been all these days in
                possession; he had no cause to like me; he must have raged to see
                himself displaced; and he has not destroyed this document."
                </p>
                <p>He caught up the next paper; it was a brief note in the
                doctor's hand and dated at the top. "O Poole!" the lawyer cried,
                "he was alive and here this day. He cannot have been disposed of
                in so short a space; he must be still alive, he must have fled!
                And then, why fled? and how? and in that case, can we venture to
                declare this suicide? O, we must be careful. I foresee that we
                may yet involve your master in some dire catastrophe."
                </p>
                <p>"Why don't you read it, sir?" asked Poole.
                </p>
                <pb n="41"/>
                <p>"Because I fear," replied the lawyer solemnly. "God grant I
                have no cause for it!" And with that he brought the paper to his
                eyes and read as follows: </p>
                <p>"My dear Utterson, -- When this shall fall into your hands, I
                shall have disappeared, under what circumstances I have not the
                <ref corresp="penetration" target="_penetration">penetration</ref>
                <note xml:id="penetration" target="_penetration" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                Here it refers to a keenness of perception or understanding. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> to foresee, but my instinct and all the circumstances
                of my nameless situation tell me that the end is sure and must be
                early. Go then, and first read the narrative which Lanyon warned
                me he was to place in your hands; and if you care to hear more,
                turn to the confession of</p>
                <p>
                "Your unworthy and unhappy friend,
                <lb/>
                 "HENRY JEKYLL."</p>
                <p>"There was a third enclosure?" asked Utterson.
                </p>
                <p>"Here, sir," said Poole, and gave into his hands a
                considerable packet sealed in several places.</p>
                <p>The lawyer put it in his pocket. "I would say nothing of this
                paper. If your master has fled or is dead, we may at least save
                his credit. It is now ten; I must go home and read these
                documents in quiet; but I shall be back before midnight, when we
                shall send for the police."
                </p>
                <p>They went out, locking the door of the theatre behind them;
                and Utterson, once more leaving the servants gathered about the
                fire in the hall, trudged back to his office to read the two
                narratives in which this mystery was now to be
                explained.</p>
            </div>
            <div type="chapter" n="9">
                <head>Dr. Lanyon's Narrative</head>
                <p>On the ninth of January, now four days ago, I received by the
                evening delivery a registered envelope, addressed in the hand of
                my colleague and old school companion, Henry Jekyll. I was a good
                deal surprised by this; for we were by no means in the habit of
                correspondence; I had seen the man, dined with him, indeed, the
                night before; and I could imagine nothing in our
                <ref target="_intercourse" corresp="intercourse">intercourse</ref>
                <note target="_intercourse" xml:id="intercourse" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                Here meaning social communication between individuals. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>
                that should justify formality of registration. The contents
                increased my wonder; for this is how the letter ran:</p>
                <pb n="42"/>
                <p>"10th December, 18-- .<lb/>
                </p>
                <p>"Dear Lanyon, -- You are one of my oldest friends; and
                although we may have differed at times on scientific questions, I
                cannot remember, 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, my honour, my reason, depend upon you,' I would not have
                sacrificed my left hand to help you. Lanyon my life, my honour,
                my reason, are all at your mercy; if you fail me to-night, I am
                lost. You might suppose, after this preface, that I am going to
                ask you for something dishonourable to grant. Judge for yourself.
                </p>
                <p>"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 a cab, unless your carriage should be actually at the door;
                and with this letter in your hand for consultation, to drive
                straight to my house. Poole, my butler, has his orders; you will
                find him waiting your arrival with a locksmith. The door of my
                cabinet is then to be forced: and you are to go in alone; to open
                the glazed press (letter E) on the left hand, breaking the lock
                if it be shut; and to draw out, <hi rend="italic">with all its contents as they stand</hi>,
                the fourth drawer from the top or (which is the same thing) the
                third from the bottom. In my extreme distress of mind, I have a
                morbid fear of misdirecting you; but even if I am in error, you
                may know the right drawer by its contents: some powders, a phial
                and a paper book. This drawer I beg of you to carry back with you
                to Cavendish Square exactly as it stands.
                </p>
                <p>"That is the first part of the service: now for the second.
                You should 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 neither be
                prevented nor foreseen, but because an hour when your servants are
                in bed is to be preferred for what will then remain to do. At
                midnight, then, I have to ask you to be alone in your consulting
                room, to admit with your own hand into the house a man who will
                present himself in my name, and to place in his hands the drawer
                that you will have brought with you from my cabinet. Then you
                will have played your part and earned my gratitude completely.
                Five minutes afterwards, if you insist upon an explanation, you
                will have understood that these arrangements are of capital
                importance; and that by the neglect of one of them, fantastic as
                they must appear, you might have charged your conscience with my
                death or the shipwreck of my reason.
                </p>
                <pb n="43"/>
                <p>"Confident as I am that you will not trifle with this appeal,
                my heart sinks and my hand trembles at the bare thought of such a
                possibility. Think of me at this hour, in a strange place,
                labouring under a blackness of distress that no fancy can
                exaggerate, and yet well aware that, if you will but punctually
                serve me, my troubles will roll away like a story that is told.
                Serve me, my dear Lanyon and save</p>
                <p>
                "H.J.</p>
                <p>"P.S. -- I had already sealed this up when a fresh terror
                struck upon my soul. It is possible that the post-office may fail
                me, and this letter not come into your hands until to-morrow
                morning. In that case, dear Lanyon, do my errand when it shall be
                most convenient for you in the course of the day; and once more
                expect my messenger at midnight. It may then already be too late;
                and if that night passes without event, you will know that you
                have seen the last of Henry Jekyll." </p>
                <p>Upon the reading of this letter, I made sure my colleague was
                insane; but till that was proved beyond the possibility of doubt,
                I felt bound to do as he requested. The less I understood of this
                <ref target="_farrago" corresp="farrago">farrago</ref>
                <note xml:id="farrago" target="_farrago" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                A confused group. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>,
                the less I was in a position to judge of its importance;
                and an appeal so worded could not be set aside without a grave
                responsibility. I rose accordingly from table, got into a hansom,
                and drove straight to Jekyll's house. The butler was awaiting my
                arrival; he had received by the same post as mine a registered
                letter of instruction, and had sent at once for a locksmith and a
                carpenter. The tradesmen came while we were yet speaking; and we
                moved in a body to old Dr. Denman's surgical theatre, from which
                (as you are doubtless aware) Jekyll's private cabinet is most
                conveniently entered. The door was very strong, the lock
                excellent; the carpenter <ref corresp="avowed" target="_avowed">avowed</ref>
                <note target="_avowed" xml:id="avowed" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                To own, acknowledge, admit, or confess. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>
                he would have great trouble and
                have to do much damage, if force were to be used; and the
                locksmith was near despair. But this last was a handy fellow, and
                after two hour's work, the door stood open. The press marked E
                was unlocked; and I took out the drawer, had it filled up with
                straw and tied in a sheet, and returned with it to Cavendish
                Square.
                </p>
                <p>Here I proceeded to examine its contents. The powders were
                neatly enough made up, but not with the nicety of<pb n="44"/>the dispensing
                chemist; so that it was plain they were of Jekyll's private
                manufacture: and when I opened one of the wrappers I found what
                seemed to me a simple crystalline salt of a white colour. The
                phial, to which I next turned my attention, might have been about
                half full of a blood-red liquor, which was highly pungent to the
                sense of smell and seemed to me to contain phosphorus and some
                volatile ether. At the other ingredients I could make no guess.
                The book was an ordinary version book and contained little but a
                series of dates. These covered a period of many years, but I
                observed that the entries ceased nearly a year ago and quite
                abruptly. Here and there a brief remark was appended to a date,
                usually no more than a single word: "double" occurring perhaps six
                times in a total of several hundred entries; and once very early
                in the list and followed by several marks of exclamation, "total
                failure!!!" All this, though it whetted my curiosity, told me
                little that was definite. Here were a phial of some salt, and the
                record of a series of experiments that had led (like too many of
                Jekyll's investigations) to no end of practical usefulness. How
                could the presence of these articles in my house affect either the
                honour, the sanity, or the life of my flighty colleague? If his
                messenger could go to one place, why could he not go to another?
                And even granting some impediment, why was this gentleman to be
                received by me in secret? The more I reflected the more convinced
                I grew that I was dealing with a case of cerebral disease; and
                though I dismissed my servants to bed, I loaded an old revolver,
                that I might be found in some posture of self-defence.
                </p>
                <p>Twelve o'clock had scarce rung out over London, ere the
                knocker sounded very gently on the door. I went myself at the
                summons, and found a small man crouching against the pillars of
                the <ref target="_portico" corresp="portico">portico</ref>
                <note target="_portico" xml:id="portico" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                A formal entrance to a classical temple, church, or other building,
                consisting of columns at regular intervals supporting a roof. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note>.
                </p>
                <p>"Are you come from Dr. Jekyll?" I asked.
                </p>
                <p>He told me "yes" by a constrained gesture; and when I had
                bidden him enter, he did not obey me without a searching backward
                glance into the darkness of the square. There was a policeman not
                far off, advancing with his bull's eye open; and at the sight, I
                thought my visitor started and made greater haste.
                </p>
                <pb n="45"/>
                <p>These particulars struck me, I confess, disagreeably; and as I
                followed him into the bright light of the consulting room, I kept
                my hand ready on my weapon. Here, at last, I had a 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 struck besides
                with the shocking expression of his face, with his remarkable
                combination of great muscular activity and great apparent 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 was accompanied by a
                marked sinking of the pulse. At the time, I set it down to some
                <ref corresp="idiosyncratic" target="_idiosyncratic">idiosyncratic</ref>
                <note xml:id="idiosyncrasy" target="_idiosyncrasy" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                Unexpected adverse reaction to a drug or other substance occurring in an individual,
                as a result of allergy, metabolic variation, etc. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note>, personal distaste, and merely wondered at the
                acuteness of the symptoms; but I have since had reason to believe
                the cause to lie much deeper in the nature of man, and to turn on
                some nobler hinge than the principle of hatred.
                </p>
                <p>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 person laughable; his clothes, that is to say, although
                they were of rich and sober fabric, were enormously too large for
                him in every measurement -- the trousers hanging on his legs and
                rolled up to keep them from the ground, the waist of the coat
                below his <ref target="_haunches" corresp="haunches">haunches</ref>
                <note target="_haunches" xml:id="haunches" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                The part of the body, in humans and quadrupeds, lying between the last ribs and the thigh.
                Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>, and the collar sprawling wide upon his
                shoulders. Strange to relate, this ludicrous <ref corresp="accoutrement" target="_accoutrement">accoutrement</ref>
                <note target="_accoutrement" xml:id="accoutrement" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                An individual piece of dress or equipment. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note> was far
                from moving me to laughter. Rather, as there was something
                abnormal and misbegotten in the very essence of the creature that
                now faced me -- something seizing, surprising and revolting --
                this fresh disparity seemed but to fit in with and to reinforce
                it; so that to my interest in the man's nature and character,
                there was added a curiosity as to his origin, his life, his
                fortune and status in the world.
                </p>
                <p>These observations, though they have taken so great a space to
                be set down in, were yet the work of a few seconds. My visitor
                was, indeed, on fire with sombre excitement.
                </p>
                <p>"Have you got it?" he cried. "Have you got it?" And so
                lively was his impatience that he even laid his hand upon my arm
                and sought to shake me.
                </p>
                <p>I put him back, conscious at his touch of a certain icy<pb n="46"/>pang
                along my blood. "Come, sir," said I. "You forget that I have not
                yet the pleasure of your acquaintance. Be seated, if you please."
                And I showed him an example, and sat down myself in my customary
                seat and with as fair an imitation of my ordinary manner to a
                patient, as the lateness of the hour, the nature of my
                preoccupations, and the horror I had of my visitor, would suffer
                me to muster.
                </p>
                <p>"I beg your pardon, Dr. Lanyon," he replied civilly enough.
                "What you say is very well founded; and my impatience has shown
                its heels to my politeness. I come here at the instance of your
                colleague, Dr. Henry Jekyll, on a piece of business of some
                moment; and I understood ..." He paused and put his hand to his
                throat, and I could see, in spite of his collected manner, that he
                was wrestling against the approaches of the hysteria -- "I
                understood, a drawer ..."
                </p>
                <p>But here I took pity on my visitor's suspense, and some
                perhaps on my own growing curiosity.
                </p>
                <p>"There it is, sir," said I, pointing to the drawer, where it
                lay on the floor behind a table and still covered with the
                sheet.</p>
                <p>He sprang to it, and then paused, and laid his hand upon his
                heart: I could hear his teeth grate with the convulsive action of
                his jaws; and his face was so ghastly to see that I grew alarmed
                both for his life and reason.
                </p>
                <p>"Compose yourself," said I.
                </p>
                <p>He turned a dreadful smile to me, and as if with the decision
                of despair, plucked away the sheet. At sight of the contents, he
                uttered one loud sob of such immense relief that I sat petrified.
                And the next moment, in a voice that was already fairly well under
                control, "Have you a graduated glass?" he asked.
                </p>
                <p>I rose from my place with something of an effort and gave him
                what he asked.
                </p>
                <p>He thanked me with a smiling nod, measured out a few minims of
                the red tincture and added one of the powders. The mixture, which
                was at first of a reddish hue, began, in proportion as the
                crystals melted, to brighten in colour, to <ref corresp="effervesce" target="_effervesce">effervesce</ref>
                <note target="_effervesce" xml:id="effervesce" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                To bubble, esp. as the result of chemical action. Source: Oxford English Dictoinary
                </note> audibly, and
                to throw off small fumes of vapour. Suddenly and at the same
                moment, the <ref target="_ebullition" corresp="ebullition">ebullition</ref>
                <note xml:id="ebullition" target="_ebullition" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                The process of boiling, or keeping a liquid at the boiling point by the application of heat. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> ceased and the compound changed to a dark
                purple, which faded again<pb n="47"/>more slowly to a watery green. My
                visitor, who had watched these metamorphoses with a keen eye,
                smiled, set down the glass upon the table, and then turned and
                looked upon me with an air of scrutiny.
                </p>
                <p>"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
                my hand and to go forth from your house without further parley? or
                has the greed of curiosity too much command of you? Think before
                you answer, for it shall be done as you decide. As you decide,
                you shall be left as you were before, and neither richer nor
                wiser, unless the sense of service rendered to a man in mortal
                distress may be counted as a kind of riches of the soul. Or, if
                you shall so prefer to choose, a new province of knowledge and new
                avenues to fame and power shall be laid open to you, here, in this
                room, upon the instant; and your sight shall be blasted by a
                prodigy to stagger the unbelief of Satan."
                </p>
                <p>"Sir," said I, affecting a coolness that I was far from truly
                possessing, "you speak enigmas, and you will perhaps not wonder
                that I hear you with no very strong impression of belief. But I
                have gone too far in the way of inexplicable services to pause
                before I see the end."
                </p>
                <p>"It is well," replied my visitor. "Lanyon, you remember your
                vows: what follows is under the seal of our profession. And now,
                you who have so long been bound to the most narrow and material
                views, you who have denied the virtue of transcendental medicine,
                you who have <ref corresp="derided" target="_derided">derided</ref>
                <note target="_derided" xml:id="derided" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                To laugh at in contempt or scorn; to mock. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note>your superiors -- behold!"
                </p>
                <p>He put the glass to his lips and drank at one gulp. A cry
                followed; he reeled, staggered, clutched at the table and held on,
                staring with injected eyes, gasping with open mouth; and as I
                looked there came, I thought, a change -- he seemed to swell --
                his face became suddenly black and the features seemed to melt and
                alter -- and the next moment, I had sprung to my feet and leaped
                back against the wall, my arms raised to shield me from that
                prodigy, my mind submerged in terror.
                </p>
                <p>"O God!" I screamed, and "O God!" again and again; for there
                before my eyes -- pale and shaken, and half fainting,<pb n="48"/>and groping
                before him with his hands, like a man restored from death -- there
                stood Henry Jekyll!
                </p>
                <p>What he told me in the next hour, I cannot bring my mind to
                set on paper. I saw what I saw, I heard what I heard, and my soul
                sickened at it; and yet now when that sight has faded from my
                eyes, I ask myself if I believe it, and I cannot answer. My life
                is shaken to its roots; sleep has left me; the deadliest terror
                sits by me at all hours of the day and night; and I feel that my
                days are numbered, and that I must die; and yet I shall die
                <ref target="_incredulous" corresp="incredulous">incredulous</ref>
                <note xml:id="incredulous" target="_incredulous" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                Unbelieving. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>.
                As for the moral <ref corresp="turpitude" target="_turpitude">turpitude</ref>
                <note xml:id="turpitude" target="_turpitude" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                Depravity, wickedness. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> that man unveiled to me,
                even with tears of penitence, I can not, even in memory, dwell on
                it without a start of horror. I will say but one thing, Utterson,
                and that (if you can bring your mind to credit it) will be more
                than enough. The creature who crept into my house that night was,
                on Jekyll's own confession, known by the name of Hyde and hunted
                for in every corner of the land as the murderer of Carew.
                <lb/>HASTIE LANYON</p>
            </div>
            <div type="chapter" n="10">
                <head>Henry Jekyll's Full Statement of the Case</head>
                <p>I was born in the year 18-- to a large fortune, endowed
                besides
                with excellent parts, inclined by nature to industry, fond of the
                respect of the wise and good among my fellowmen, and thus, as
                might have been supposed, with every guarantee of an honourable
                and distinguished future. And indeed the worst of my faults was a
                certain impatient gaiety of disposition, such as has made the
                happiness of many, but such as I found it hard to reconcile with
                my imperious desire to carry my head high, and wear a more than
                commonly grave countenance before the public. Hence it came about
                that I concealed my pleasures; and that when I reached years of
                reflection, and began to look round me and take stock of my
                progress and position in the world, I stood already committed to a
                profound duplicity of me. Many a man would have even
                <ref corresp="blazoned" target="_blazoned">blazoned</ref>
                <note xml:id="blazoned" target="_blazoned" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                To describe in proper heraldic language. So describing something as if they were
                making royal or state proclamations. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>
                such irregularities as I was guilty of; but from the high views
                that I had set before me,<pb n="49"/>I regarded and hid them with an almost
                morbid sense of shame. It was thus rather the exacting nature of
                my aspirations than any particular degradation in my faults, that
                made me what I was, and, with even a deeper trench than in the
                majority of men, severed in me those provinces of good and ill
                which divide and compound man's dual nature. In this case, I was
                driven to reflect deeply and <ref corresp="inveterately" target="_inveterately">inveterately</ref>
                <note target="_inveterately" xml:id="inveterately" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                In a manner confirmed by long existence or practice. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> on that hard law of
                life, which lies at the root of religion and is one of the most
                plentiful springs of distress. Though so profound a
                double-dealer, I was in no sense a hypocrite; both sides of me
                were in dead earnest; I was no more myself when I laid aside
                restraint and plunged in shame, than when I laboured, in the eye
                of day, at the futherance of knowledge or the relief of sorrow and
                suffering. And it chanced that the direction of my scientific
                studies, which led wholly towards the mystic and the
                <ref target="_transcendental" corresp="transcendental">transcendental</ref>
                <note xml:id="transcendental" target="_transcendental" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                Extraordinary. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>,
                reacted and shed a strong light on this
                consciousness of the perennial war among my members. With every
                day, and from both sides of my intelligence, the moral and the
                intellectual, I thus drew steadily nearer to that truth, by whose
                partial discovery I have been doomed to such a dreadful shipwreck:
                that man is not truly one, but truly two. I say two, because the
                state of my own knowledge does not pass beyond that point. Others
                will follow, others will outstrip me on the same lines; and I
                hazard the guess that man will be ultimately known for a mere
                polity of multifarious, incongruous and independent
                <ref corresp="denizens" target="_denizens">denizens</ref>
                <note target="_denizens" xml:id="denizens" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                One admitted to, or made free of, the privileges of a particular society or fellowship;
                one who, though not a native, is at home in any region. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>. I,
                for my part, from the nature of my life, advanced <ref target="_infallibly" corresp="infallibly">infallibly</ref>
                <note type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS" target="_infallibly" xml:id="infallibly">
                Without fail or liability to prove false; most certainly, indubitably. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>in
                one direction and in one direction only. It was on the moral
                side, and in my own person, that I learned to recognise the
                thorough and primitive duality of man; I saw that, of the two
                natures that contended in the field of my consciousness, even if I
                could rightly be said to be either, it was only because I was
                radically both; and from an early date, even before the course of
                my scientific discoveries had begun to suggest the most naked
                possibility of such a miracle, I had learned to dwell with
                pleasure, as a beloved daydream, on the thought of the separation
                of these elements. If each, I told myself, could be housed in
                separate identities, life would be relieved of all that was
                unbearable; the unjust might go his way,<pb n="50"/>delivered from the
                aspirations and remorse of his more upright twin; and the just
                could walk steadfastly and securely on his upward path, doing the
                good things in which he found his pleasure, and no longer exposed
                to disgrace and penitence by the hands of this extraneous evil.
                It was the curse of mankind that these incongruous <ref corresp="faggots" target="_faggots">faggots</ref>
                <note target="_faggots" xml:id="faggots" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="editorial">Here meaning a bundle of sticks.</note> were
                thus bound together -- that in the agonised womb of consciousness,
                these polar twins should be continuously struggling. How, then
                were they dissociated?
                </p>
                <p>I was so far in my reflections when, as I have said, a
                side
                light began to shine upon the subject from the laboratory table.
                I began to perceive more deeply than it has ever yet been stated,
                the trembling immateriality, the mistlike <ref corresp="transience" target="_transience">transience</ref>
                <note xml:id="transience" target="_transience" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                The quality or state of being impermanent or ephemeral. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>, of this
                seemingly so solid body in which we walk attired. Certain agents
                I found to have the power to shake and pluck back that fleshly
                vestment, even as a wind might toss the curtains of a pavilion.
                For two good reasons, I will not enter deeply into this scientific
                branch of my confession. First, because I have been made to learn
                that the doom and burthen of our life is bound for ever on man's
                shoulders, and when the attempt is made to cast it off, it but
                returns upon us with more unfamiliar and more awful pressure.
                Second, because, as my narrative will make, alas! too evident, my
                discoveries were incomplete. Enough then, that I not only
                recognised my natural body from the mere aura and <ref target="_effulgence" corresp="effulgence">effulgence</ref>
                <note target="_effulgence" xml:id="effulgence" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">Being spldendid, radiant; Shining forth brilliantly.
                Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note> of
                certain of the powers that made up my spirit, but managed to
                compound a drug by which these powers should be dethroned from
                their supremacy, and a second form and countenance substituted,
                none the less natural to me because they were the expression, and
                bore the stamp of lower elements in my soul.
                </p>
                <p>I hesitated long before I put this theory to the test of
                practice. I knew well that I risked death; for any drug that so
                potently controlled and shook the very fortress of identity,
                might, by the least <ref target="_scruple" corresp="scruple">scruple</ref>
                <note type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS" xml:id="scruple" target="_scruple">
                A unit of weight equilivant to 1.296 grams. Source: Encyclopedia Britannica
                </note> of an overdose or at the least
                inopportunity in the moment of exhibition, utterly blot out that
                immaterial <ref corresp="tabernacle" target="_tabernacle">tabernacle</ref>
                <note target="_tabernacle" xml:id="tabernacle" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                A temporary dwelling; generally movable, constructed of branches, boards, or canvas.
                Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note> which I 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, from a firm of<pb n="51"/>wholesale chemists,
                a large quantity of a particular salt which I knew, from my
                experiments, to be the last ingredient required; and late one
                accursed night, I compounded the elements, watched them boil and
                smoke together in the glass, and when the ebullition had subsided,
                with a strong glow of courage, drank off the potion.
                </p>
                <p>The most racking pangs succeeded: a grinding in the bones,
                deadly nausea, and a horror of the spirit that cannot be exceeded
                at the hour of birth or death. Then these agonies began swiftly
                to subside, and I came to myself as if out of a great sickness.
                There was something strange in my sensations, something
                indescribably new and, from its very novelty, incredibly sweet. I
                felt younger, lighter, happier in body; within I was conscious of
                a heady recklessness, a current of disordered sensual images
                running like a <ref target="_millrace" corresp="millrace">millrace</ref>
                <note xml:id="millrace" target="_millrace" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                The swift current of water that drives a mill-wheel. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> in my fancy, a solution of the bonds of
                obligation, an unknown but not an innocent freedom of the soul. I
                knew myself, at the first breath of this new life, to be more
                wicked, tenfold more wicked, sold a slave to my original evil; and
                the thought, in that moment, braced and delighted me like wine. I
                stretched out my hands, exulting in the freshness of these
                sensations; and in the act, I was suddenly aware that I had lost
                in stature.
                </p>
                <p>There was no mirror, at that date, in my room; that which
                stands beside me as I write, was brought there later on and for
                the very purpose of these transformations. The night however, was
                far gone into the morning -- the morning, black as it was, was
                nearly ripe for the conception of the day -- the inmates of my
                house were locked in the most rigorous hours of slumber; and I
                determined, flushed as I was with hope and triumph, to venture in
                my new shape as far as to my bedroom. I crossed the yard, wherein
                the constellations looked down upon me, I could have thought, with
                wonder, the first creature of that sort that their unsleeping
                vigilance had yet disclosed to them; I stole through the
                corridors, a stranger in my own house; and coming to my room, I
                saw for the first time the appearance of Edward Hyde.
                </p>
                <p>I must here speak by theory alone, saying not that which I
                know, but that which I suppose to be most probable. The<pb n="52"/>evil side
                of my nature, to which I had now transferred the stamping
                efficacy, was less robust and less developed than the good which I
                had just deposed. Again, in the course of my life, which had
                been, after all, nine tenths a life of effort, virtue and control,
                it had been much less exercised and much less exhausted. And
                hence, as I think, it came about that Edward Hyde was so much
                smaller, slighter and younger than Henry Jekyll. Even as good
                shone upon the countenance of the one, evil was written broadly
                and plainly on the face of the other. Evil besides (which I must
                still believe to be the lethal side of man) had left on that body
                an imprint of deformity and decay. And yet when I looked upon
                that ugly idol in the glass, I was conscious of no repugnance,
                rather of a leap of welcome. This, too, was myself. It seemed
                natural and human. In my eyes it bore a livelier image of the
                spirit, it seemed more express and single, than the imperfect and
                divided countenance I had been hitherto accustomed to call mine.
                And in so far I was doubtless right. I have observed that when I
                wore the semblance of Edward Hyde, none could come near to me at
                first without a visible misgiving of the flesh. This, as I take
                it, was because all human beings, as we meet them, are commingled
                out of good and evil: and Edward Hyde, alone in the ranks of
                mankind, was pure evil.
                </p>
                <p>I lingered but a moment at the mirror: the second and
                conclusive experiment had yet to be attempted; it yet remained to
                be seen if I had lost my identity beyond redemption and must flee
                before daylight from a house that was no longer mine; and hurrying
                back to my cabinet, I once more prepared and drank the cup, once
                more suffered the pangs of dissolution, and came to myself once
                more with the character, the stature and the face of Henry
                Jekyll.
                </p>
                <p>That night I had come to the fatal cross-roads. Had I
                approached my discovery in a more noble spirit, had I risked the
                experiment while under the empire of generous or pious
                aspirations, all must have been otherwise, and from these agonies
                of death and birth, I had come forth an angel instead of a fiend.
                The drug had no discriminating action; it was neither diabolical
                nor divine; it but shook the doors of the prisonhouse of my
                disposition; and like the captives of<pb n="53"/>
                    <ref target="_philippi" corresp="philippi">Philippi</ref>
                <note xml:id="philippi" target="_philippi" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="editorial">
                This refers to the Biblical passage from Acts 16:16-33. In this passage, a demon posessed slave who could
                tell fortunes made vast sums of money for her masters. Paul cast the demon out of
                her. Because she no longer could tell fortunes and make money, her masters threw Paul
                into jail. Paul was then released by an earthquake and able to escape.
                Source: <ref target="https://biblicalallusions.org/the-strange-case-of-dr-jekyll-mr-hyde/captives-of-philippi/">https://biblicalallusions.org/the-strange-case-of-dr-jekyll-mr-hyde/captives-of-philippi/</ref>
                </note>, that which stood
                within ran forth. At that time my virtue slumbered; my evil, kept
                awake by ambition, was alert and swift to seize the occasion; and
                the thing that was projected was Edward Hyde. Hence, although I
                had now two characters as well as two appearances, one was wholly
                evil, and the other was still the old Henry Jekyll, that
                incongruous compound of whose reformation and improvement I had
                already learned to despair. The movement was thus wholly toward
                the worse.
                </p>
                <p>Even at that time, I had not conquered my aversions to the
                dryness of a life of study. I would still be merrily disposed at
                times; and as my pleasures were (to say the least) undignified,
                and I was not only well known and highly considered, but growing
                towards the elderly man, this incoherency of my life was daily
                growing more unwelcome. It was on this side that my new power
                tempted me until I fell in slavery. I had but to drink the cup,
                to <ref corresp="doff" target="_doff">doff</ref>
                    <note target="_doff" xml:id="doff" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                To put off or take off from the body (clothing, or anything worn or borne). Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> at once the body of the noted professor, and to assume,
                like a thick cloak, that of Edward Hyde. I smiled at the notion;
                it seemed to me at the time to be humourous; and I made my
                preparations with the most studious care. I took and furnished
                that house in Soho, to which Hyde was tracked by the police; and
                engaged as a housekeeper a creature whom I knew well to be silent
                and unscrupulous. On the other side, I announced to my servants
                that a Mr. Hyde (whom I described) was to have full liberty and
                power about my house in the square; and to <ref target="_parry" corresp="parry">parry</ref>
                <note xml:id="parry" target="_parry" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                To avert or turn aside. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note> mishaps, I even
                called and made myself a familiar object, in my second character.
                I next drew up that will to which you so much objected; so that if
                anything befell me in the person of Dr. Jekyll, I could enter on
                that of Edward Hyde without pecuniary loss. And thus fortified,
                as I supposed, on every side, I began to profit by the strange
                immunities of my position.
                </p>
                <p>Men have before hired bravos to transact their crimes, while
                their own person and reputation sat under shelter. I was the
                first that ever did so for his pleasures. I was the first that
                could plod in the public eye with a load of genial respectability,
                and in a moment, like a schoolboy, strip off these lendings and
                spring headlong into the sea of liberty. But for me, in my
                impenetrable mantle,<pb n="54"/>the safely was complete. Think of it -- I
                did not even exist! Let me but escape into my laboratory door,
                give me but a second or two to mix and swallow the draught that I
                had always standing ready; and whatever he had done, Edward Hyde
                would pass away like the stain of breath upon a mirror; and there
                in his stead, quietly at home, trimming the midnight lamp in his
                study, a man who could afford to laugh at suspicion, would be
                Henry Jekyll.
                </p>
                <p>The pleasures which I made haste to seek in my disguise were,
                as I have said, undignified; I would scarce use a harder term.
                But in the hands of Edward Hyde, they soon began to turn toward
                the monstrous. When I would come back from these excursions, I
                was often plunged into a kind of wonder at my vicarious depravity.
                This familiar that I called out of my own soul, and sent forth
                alone to do his good pleasure, was a being inherently malign and
                villainous; his every act and thought centered on self; drinking
                pleasure with bestial <ref target="_avidity" corresp="avidity">avidity</ref>
                <note target="_avidity" xml:id="avidity" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                Ardent desire, extreme eagerness, greediness. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> from any degree of torture to
                another; relentless like a man of stone. Henry Jekyll stood at
                times aghast before the acts of Edward Hyde; but the situation was
                apart from ordinary laws, and insidiously relaxed the grasp of
                conscience. It was Hyde, after all, and Hyde alone, that was
                guilty. Jekyll was no worse; he woke again to his good qualities
                seemingly unimpaired; he would even make haste, where it was
                possible, to undo the evil done by Hyde. And thus his conscience
                slumbered.
                </p>
                <p>Into the details of the infamy at which I thus connived (for
                even now I can scarce grant that I committed it) I have no design
                of entering; I mean but to point out the warnings and the
                successive steps with which my
                <ref corresp="chastisement" target="_chastisement">chastisement</ref>
                <note type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS" xml:id="chastisement" target="_chastisement">
                Corrective or disciplinary punishment; also simply punishment. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> approached. I met
                with one accident which, as it brought on no consequence, I shall
                no more than mention. An act of cruelty to a child aroused
                against me the anger of a passer-by, whom I recognised the other
                day in the person of your kinsman; the doctor and the child's
                family joined him; there were moments when I feared for my life;
                and at last, in order to pacify their too just resentment, Edward
                Hyde had to bring them to the door, and pay them in a cheque drawn
                in the name of Henry Jekyll. But this danger was easily
                eliminated from the future, by opening an account at<pb n="55"/>another bank
                in the name of Edward Hyde himself; and when, by sloping my own
                hand backward, I had supplied my double with a signature, I
                thought I sat beyond the reach of fate.
                </p>
                <p>Some two months before the, murder of Sir Danvers, I had been
                out for one of my adventures, had returned at a late hour, and
                woke the next day in bed with somewhat odd sensations. It was in
                vain I looked about me; in vain I saw the decent furniture and
                tall proportions of my room in the square; in vain that I
                recognised the pattern of the bed curtains and the design of the
                mahogany frame; something still kept insisting that I was not
                where I was, that I had not wakened where I seemed to be, but in
                the little room in Soho where I was accustomed to sleep in the
                body of Edward Hyde. I smiled to myself, and in my psychological
                way, began lazily to inquire into the elements of this illusion,
                occasionally, even as I did so, dropping back into a comfortable
                morning doze. I was still so engaged when, in one of my more
                wakeful moments, my eyes fell upon my hand. Now the hand of Henry
                Jekyll (as you have often remarked) was professional in shape and
                size: it was large, firm, white and comely. But the hand which I
                now saw, clearly enough, in the yellow light of a mid-London
                morning, lying half shut on the bedclothes, was lean, corderd,
                knuckly, of a dusky pallor and thickly shaded with a swart growth
                of hair. It was the hand of Edward Hyde.
                </p>
                <p>I must have stared upon it for near half a minute, sunk as I
                was in the mere stupidity of wonder, before terror woke up in my
                breast as sudden and startling as the crash of cymbals; and
                bounding from my bed I rushed to the mirror. At the sight that
                met my eyes, my blood was changed into something exquisitely thin
                and icy. Yes, I had gone to bed Henry Jekyll, I had awakened
                Edward Hyde. How was this to be explained? I asked myself; and
                then, with another bound of terror -- how was it to be remedied?
                It was well on in the morning; the servants were up; all my drugs
                were in the cabinet -- a long journey down two pairs of stairs,
                through the back passage, across the open court and through the
                anatomical theatre, from where I was then standing horror-struck.
                It might indeed be possible to cover my face;<pb n="56"/>but of what use was
                that, when I was unable to conceal the alteration in my stature?
                And then with an overpowering sweetness of relief, it came back
                upon my mind that the servants were already used to the coming and
                going of my second self. I had soon dressed, as well as I was
                able, in clothes of my own size: had soon passed through the
                house, where Bradshaw stared and drew back at seeing Mr. Hyde at
                such 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 <ref corresp="feint" target="_feint">feint</ref>
                <note target="_feint" xml:id="feint" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                An assumed appearance. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> of breakfasting.
                </p>
                <p>Small indeed was my appetite. This inexplicable incident,
                this reversal of my previous experience, seemed, like the
                Babylonian finger on the wall, to be spelling out the letters of
                my judgment; and I began to reflect more seriously than ever
                before on the issues and possibilities of my double existence.
                That part of me which I had the power of projecting, had lately
                been much exercised and nourished; it had seemed to me of late as
                though the body of Edward Hyde had grown in stature, as though
                (when I wore that form) I were conscious of a more generous tide
                of blood; and I began to spy
                a danger that, if this were much
                prolonged, the balance of my nature might be permanently
                overthrown, the power of voluntary change be forfeited, and the
                character of Edward Hyde become irrevocably mine. The power of
                the drug had not been always equally displayed. Once, very early
                in my career, it had totally failed me; since then I had been
                obliged on more than one occasion to double, and once, with
                infinite risk of death, to treble the amount; and these rare
                uncertainties had cast hitherto the sole shadow on my contentment.
                Now, however, and in the light of that morning's accident, I was
                led to remark that whereas, in the beginning, the difficulty had
                been to throw off the body of Jekyll, it had of late gradually but
                decidedly transferred itself to the other side. All things
                therefore seemed to point to this; that I was slowly losing hold
                of my original and better self, and becoming slowly incorporated
                with my second and worse.
                </p>
                <p>Between these two, I now felt I had to choose. My two natures
                had memory in common, but all other faculties were<pb n="57"/>most unequally
                shared between them. Jekyll (who was composite) now with the most
                sensitive apprehensions, now with a greedy gusto, projected and
                shared in the pleasures and adventures of Hyde; but Hyde was
                indifferent to Jekyll, or but remembered him as the mountain
                bandit remembers the cavern in which he conceals himself from
                pursuit. Jekyll had more than a father's interest; Hyde had more
                than a son's indifference. To cast in my lot with Jekyll, was to
                die to those appetites which I had long secretly indulged and had
                of late begun to pamper. To cast it in with Hyde, was to die to a
                thousand interests and aspirations, and to become, at a blow and
                forever, despised and friendless. The bargain might appear
                unequal; but there was still another consideration in the scales;
                for while Jekyll would suffer smartingly in the fires of
                abstinence, Hyde would be not even conscious 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
                <ref target="_inducements" corresp="inducements">inducements</ref>
                <note target="_inducements" xml:id="inducements" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                Something attractive that persuades a person to action. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> and alarms cast the die for any tempted and trembling sinner; and it
                fell out with me, as it falls with so vast a majority of my
                fellows, that I chose the better part and was found wanting in the
                strength to keep to it.</p>
                <p>Yes, I preferred the elderly and discontented doctor,
                surrounded by friends and cherishing honest hopes; and bade a
                resolute farewell to the liberty, the comparative youth, the light
                step, leaping impulses and secret pleasures, that I had enjoyed in
                the disguise of Hyde. I made this choice perhaps with some
                unconscious reservation, for I neither gave up the house in Soho,
                nor destroyed the clothes of Edward Hyde, which still lay ready in
                my cabinet. For two months, however, I was true to my
                determination; for two months, I led a life of such severity as I
                had never before attained to, and enjoyed the compensations of an
                approving conscience. But time began at last to obliterate the
                freshness of my alarm; the praises of conscience began to grow
                into a thing of course; I began to be tortured with <ref corresp="throes" target="_throes">throes</ref>
                <note target="_throes" xml:id="throes" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                Any violent pain, spasm, or convulsion; especially a mental or emotional spasm. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note> and
                longings, as of Hyde struggling after freedom; and at last, in an
                hour of moral weakness, I once again compounded and swallowed the
                transforming draught.
                </p>
                <p>I do not suppose that, when a drunkard reasons with<pb n="58"/>himself
                upon his vice, he is once out of five hundred times affected by
                the dangers that he runs through his brutish, physical
                insensibility; neither had I, long as I had considered my
                position, made enough allowance for the complete moral
                insensibility and insensate readiness to evil, which were the
                leading characters of Edward Hyde. Yet it was by these that I was
                punished. My devil had been long caged, he came out roaring. I
                was conscious, even when I took the draught, of a more unbridled,
                a more furious propensity to ill. It must have been this, I
                suppose, that stirred in my soul that tempest of impatience with
                which I listened to the civilities of my unhappy victim; I
                declare, at least, before God, no man morally sane could have been
                guilty of that crime upon so pitiful a provocation; and that I
                struck in no more reasonable spirit than that in which a sick
                child may break a plaything. But I had voluntarily stripped
                myself of all those balancing instincts 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.
                </p>
                <p>Instantly the spirit of hell awoke in me and raged. With a
                transport of glee, I mauled the unresisting body, tasting delight
                from every blow; and it was not till weariness had begun to
                succeed, that I was suddenly, in the top fit of my delirium,
                struck through the heart by a cold thrill of terror. A mist
                dispersed; I saw my life to be forfeit; and fled from the scene
                of these excesses, at once glorying and trembling, my lust of
                evil gratified and stimulated, my love of life screwed to the
                topmost peg. I ran to the house in Soho, and (to make assurance
                doubly sure) destroyed my papers; thence I set out through the
                lamplit streets, in the same divided ecstasy of mind, gloating on
                my crime, light-headedly devising others in the future, and yet
                still hastening and still hearkening in my wake for the steps of
                the avenger. Hyde had a song upon his lips as he compounded the
                draught, and as he drank it, pledged the dead man. The pangs of
                transformation had not done tearing him, before Henry Jekyll,
                with streaming tears of gratitude and remorse, had fallen upon
                his knees and lifted his clasped hands to God. The veil of
                self-indulgence was rent from head to<pb n="59"/>foot. I saw my life as a
                whole: I followed it up from the days of childhood, when I had
                walked with my father's hand, and through the self-denying toils
                of my professional life, to arrive again and again, with the same
                sense of unreality, at the danmed horrors of the evening. I
                could have screamed aloud; I sought with tears and prayers to
                smother down the crowd of hideous images and sounds with which my
                memory swarmed against me; and still, between the petitions, the
                ugly face of my iniquity stared into my soul. As the acuteness
                of this remorse began to die away, it was succeeded by a sense of
                joy. The problem of my conduct was solved. Hyde was thenceforth
                impossible; whether I would or not, I was now confined to the
                better part of my existence; and O, how I rejoiced to think of
                it! with what willing humility I embraced anew the restrictions
                of natural life! with what sincere <ref corresp="renunciation" target="_renunciation">renunciation</ref>
                <note target="_renunciation" xml:id="renunciation" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                The action of rejecting or abandoning a belief, habit, etc. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note>I locked the door
                by which I had so often gone and come, and ground the key under
                my heel!
                </p>
                <p>The next day, came the news that the murder had been
                overlooked, that the guilt of Hyde was patent to the world, and
                that the victim was a man high in public estimation. It was not
                only a crime, 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
                <ref target="_buttressed" corresp="buttressed">buttressed</ref>
                <note target="_buttressed" xml:id="buttressed" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                To provide support for. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> and guarded by the terrors of the scaffold. Jekyll was
                now my city of refuge; let but Hyde peep out an instant, and the
                hands of all men would be raised to take and slay him.
                </p>
                <p>I resolved in my future conduct to redeem the past; and I can
                say with honesty that my resolve was fruitful of some good. You
                know yourself how earnestly, in the last months of the last year,
                I laboured to relieve suffering; you know that much was done for
                others, and that the days passed quietly, almost happily for
                myself. Nor can I truly say that I wearied of this beneficent and
                innocent life; I think instead that I daily enjoyed it more
                completely; but I was still cursed with my duality of purpose; and
                as the first edge of my penitence wore off, the lower side of me,
                so long indulged, so recently chained down, began to growl for
                licence. Not that I dreamed of resuscitating Hyde; the bare idea
                of that would startle me to frenzy: no, it was in my own<pb n="60"/>person
                that I was once more tempted to trifle with my conscience; and it
                was as an ordinary secret sinner that I at last fell before the
                assaults of temptation.
                </p>
                <p>There comes an end to all things; the most capacious measure
                is filled at last; and this brief condescension to my evil finally
                destroyed the balance of my soul. And yet I was not alarmed; the
                fall seemed natural, like a return to the old days before I had
                made my discovery. It was a fine, clear, January day, wet under
                foot where the frost had melted, but cloudless overhead; and the
                Regent's Park was full of winter <ref target="_chirrupings" corresp="chirrupings">chirrupings</ref>
                <note target="_chirrupings" xml:id="chirrupings" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">Birds chirping.
                Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note> and sweet with spring
                odours. I sat in the sun on a bench; the animal within me licking
                the chops of memory; the spiritual side a little drowsed,
                promising subsequent penitence, but not yet moved to begin. After
                all, I reflected, I was like my neighbours; and then I smiled,
                comparing myself with other men, comparing my active good-will
                with the lazy cruelty of their neglect. And at the very moment
                of that <ref target="_vainglorious" corresp="vainglorious">vainglorious</ref>
                <note target="_vainglorious" xml:id="vainglorious" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                Excessively vain. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>
                thought, a <ref corresp="qualm" target="_qualm">qualm</ref>
                <note target="_qualm" xml:id="qualm" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS">
                A sudden feeling or fit of faintness or sickness. Source: Oxford English Dictionary 
                </note> came over me, a horrid
                nausea and the most deadly shuddering. These passed away, and
                left me faint; and then as in its turn faintness subsided, I began
                to be aware of a change in the temper of my thoughts, a greater
                boldness, a contempt of danger, a solution of the bonds of
                obligation. I looked down; my clothes hung formlessly on my
                shrunken limbs; the hand that lay on my knee was corded and hairy.
                I was once more Edward Hyde.
                A moment before I had been safe of
                all men's respect, wealthy, beloved -- the cloth laying for me in
                the dining-room at home; and now I was the common quarry of
                mankind, hunted, houseless, a known murderer, thrall to the
                gallows.
                </p>
                <p>My reason wavered, but it did not fail me utterly. I have
                more than once observed that in my second character, my faculties
                seemed sharpened to a point and my spirits more tensely elastic;
                thus it came about that, where Jekyll perhaps might have
                succumbed, Hyde rose to the importance of the moment. My drugs
                were in one of the presses of my cabinet; how was I to reach them?
                That was the problem that (crushing my temples in my hands) I set
                myself to solve. The laboratory door I had closed. If I sought
                to enter by the house, my own servants would
                <ref corresp="consign" target="_consign">consign</ref> me<pb n="61"/>
                <note target="_consign" xml:id="consign" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                To hand over to another for custody. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note> to the
                gallows. I saw I must employ another hand, and thought of Lanyon.
                How was he to be reached? how persuaded? Supposing that I escaped
                capture in the streets, how was I to make my way into his
                presence? and how should I, an unknown and displeasing visitor,
                prevail on the famous physician to rifle the study of his
                colleague, Dr. Jekyll? Then I remembered that of my original
                character, one part remained to me: I could write my own hand; and
                once I had conceived that kindling spark, the way that I must
                follow became lighted up from end to end.
                </p>
                <p>Thereupon, I arranged my clothes as best I could, and
                summoning a passing hansom, drove to an hotel in Portland Street,
                the name of which I chanced to remember. At my appearance (which
                was indeed comical enough, however tragic a fate these garments
                covered) the driver could not conceal his mirth. I gnashed my
                teeth upon him with a gust of devilish fury; and the smile
                withered from his face -- happily for him -- yet more happily for
                myself, for in another instant I had certainly dragged him from
                his perch. At the inn, as I entered, I looked about me with so
                black a countenance as made the attendants tremble; not a look did
                they exchange in my presence; but obsequiously took my orders, led
                me to a private room, and brought me wherewithal to write. Hyde
                in danger of his life was a creature new to me; shaken with
                inordinate anger, strung to the pitch of murder, lusting to
                inflict pain. Yet the creature was astute; mastered his fury with
                a great effort of the will; composed his two important letters,
                one to Lanyon and one to Poole; and that he might receive actual
                evidence of their being posted, sent them out with directions that 
                they should be registered. 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
                <ref corresp="quailing" target="_quailing">quailing</ref>
                <note target="_quailing" xml:id="quailing" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                To flinch, be cowed. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note> before
                his eye; and thence, when the night 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, I say -- 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 discharged the cab and<pb n="62"/>ventured on foot, attired in
                his misfitting clothes, an object marked out for observation, into
                the midst of the nocturnal passengers, these two base passions
                raged within him like a tempest. He walked fast, hunted by his
                fears, chattering to himself, skulking through the less frequented
                thoroughfares, counting the minutes that still divided him from
                midnight. Once a woman spoke to him, offering, I think, a box of
                lights. He smote her in the face, and she fled.
                </p>
                <p>When I came to myself at Lanyon's, the horror of my old friend
                perhaps affected me somewhat: I do not know; it was at least but a
                drop in the sea to the abhorrence with which I looked back upon
                these hours. A change had come over me. It was no longer the
                fear of the gallows, it was the horror of being Hyde that racked
                me. I received Lanyon's condemnation partly in a dream; it was
                partly in a dream that I came home to my own house and got into
                bed. I slept after the <ref target="_prostration" corresp="prostration">prostration</ref>
                <note type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS" xml:id="prostration" target="_prostration">
                Extreme physical weakness or exhaustion. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> of the day, with a stringent
                and profound slumber which not even the nightmares that wrung me
                could avail to break. I awoke in the morning shaken, weakened,
                but refreshed. I still hated and feared the thought of the brute
                that slept within me, and I had not of course forgotten the
                appalling dangers of the day before; but I was once more at home,
                in my own house and close to my drugs; and gratitude for my escape
                shone so strong in my soul that it almost rivalled the brightness
                of hope.
                </p>
                <p>I was stepping leisurely across the court after breakfast,
                drinking the chill of the air with pleasure, when I was seized
                again with those
                indescribable sensations that heralded the
                change; 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
                myself; and alas! six hours after, as I sat looking sadly in the
                fire, the pangs returned, and the drug had to be re-administered.
                In short, from that day forth it seemed only by a great effort as
                of gymnastics, and only under the immediate stimulation of the
                drug, that I was able to wear the countenance of Jekyll. At all
                hours of the day and night, I would be taken with the
                <ref corresp="premonitory" target="_premonitory">premonitory</ref>
                <note target="_premonitory" xml:id="premonitory" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                Giving or conveying premonition. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>
                shudder; above all, if I slept, or even dozed for a moment in my<pb n="63"/>
                chair, it was always as Hyde that I awakened. Under the strain of
                this continually impending doom and by the sleeplessness to which
                I now condemned myself, ay, even beyond what I had thought
                possible to man, I became, in my own person, a creature eaten up
                and emptied by fever, <ref target="_languidly" corresp="languidly">languidly</ref>
                <note type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS" xml:id="languidly" target="_languidly">
                Faintly, weakly, slowly. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> weak both in body and mind, and
                solely occupied by one thought: the horror of my other self. But
                when I slept, or when the virtue of the medicine wore off, I would
                leap almost without transition (for the pangs of transformation
                grew daily less marked) into the possession of a fancy brimming
                with images of terror, a soul boiling with causeless hatreds, and
                a body that seemed not strong enough to contain the raging
                energies of life. The powers of Hyde seemed to have grown with
                the sickliness of Jekyll. And certainly the hate that now divided
                them was equal on each side. With Jekyll, it was a thing of vital
                instinct. He had now seen the full deformity of that creature
                that shared with him some of the phenomena of consciousness, and
                was co-heir with him to death: and beyond these links of
                community, which in themselves made the most poignant part of his
                distress, he thought of Hyde, for all his energy of life, as of
                something not only hellish but inorganic. This was the shocking
                thing; that the slime of the pit seemed to utter cries and voices;
                that the amorphous dust <ref corresp="gesticulated" target="_gesticulated">gesticulated</ref>
                <note target="_gesticulated" xml:id="gesticulated" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                To make lively or energetic motions with the limbs or body. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> and sinned; that what was
                dead, and had no shape, should usurp the offices of life. And
                this again, that that insurgent horror was knit to him closer than
                a wife, closer than an eye; lay caged in his flesh, where he heard
                it mutter and felt it struggle to be born; and at every hour of
                weakness, and in the confidence of slumber, prevailed against him,
                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 his
                subordinate station of a part instead of a person; but he loathed
                the necessity, he loathed the despondency into which Jekyll was
                now fallen, and he resented the dislike with which he was himself
                regarded. 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; and
                indeed, had<pb n="64"/>it not been for his fear of death, he would long ago
                have ruined himself in order to involve me in the ruin. But his
                love of me is wonderful; I go further: I, who sicken and freeze at
                the mere thought of him, when I recall the abjection and passion
                of this attachment, and when I know how he fears my power to cut
                him off by suicide, I find it in my heart to pity him.
                </p>
                <p>It is useless, and the time awfully fails me, to prolong this
                description; no one has ever suffered such torments, let that
                suffice; and yet even to these, habit brought -- no, not
                alleviation -- but a certain callousness of soul, a certain
                <ref corresp="acquiescence" target="_acquiescence">acquiescence</ref>
                <note type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS" xml:id="acquiescence" target="_acquiescence">
                Being satisfied with something. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> of despair; and my punishment might have gone on for
                years, but for the last calamity which has now fallen, and which
                has finally severed me from my own face and nature. My provision
                of the salt, which had never been renewed since the date of the
                first experiment, began to run low. I sent out for a fresh supply
                and mixed the draught; the ebullition followed, and the first
                change of colour, not the second; I drank it and it was without
                efficiency. You will learn from Poole how I have had London
                ransacked; it was in vain; and I am now persuaded that my first
                supply was impure, and that it was that unknown impurity which
                lent <ref target="_efficacy" corresp="efficacy">efficacy</ref>
                <note target="_efficacy" xml:id="efficacy" resp="editors.xml#VBS" type="gloss">
                Power to effect the object intended. Source: Oxford English Dictionary
                </note> to the draught.
                </p>
                <p>About a week has passed, and I am now finishing this statement
                under the influence of the last of the old powders. This, then,
                is the last time, short of a miracle, that Henry Jekyll can think
                his own thoughts or see his own face (now how sadly altered!) in
                the glass. Nor must I delay too long to bring my writing to an
                end; for if my narrative has hitherto escaped destruction, it has
                been by a combination of great prudence and great good luck.
                Should the throes of change take 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 <ref corresp="circumscription" target="_circumscription">circumscription</ref>
                <note type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#VBS" xml:id="circumscription" target="_circumscription">
                Bounding, limitation, restriction, restraint. Source: Oxford English Dictionary</note>
                to the moment will probably save it once again from the action of
                his ape-like spite. And indeed the doom that is closing on us
                both has already changed and crushed him. Half an hour from now,
                when I shall again and forever reindue that hated personality, I
                know how I shall sit shuddering and weeping in my chair, or
                continue, with<pb n="65"/>the most strained and fearstruck ecstasy of
                listening, to pace up and down this room (my last earthly refuge)
                and give ear to every sound of menace. Will Hyde die upon the
                scaffold? or will he find courage to release himself at the last
                moment? God knows; I am careless; this is my true hour of death,
                and what is to follow concerns another than myself. Here then, as
                I lay down the pen and proceed to seal up my confession, I bring
                the life of that unhappy Henry Jekyll to an end.
                </p>
            </div>
        </body>
    </text>
</TEI>