THE CAREW MURDER CASE

  Nearly a year later, in the month of October, 18--, London was startledby a crime of singular ferocity and rendered all the more notable by thehigh position of the victim. The details were few and startling. Amaid servant living alone in a house not far from the river, had goneupstairs to bed about eleven. Although a fog rolled over the city in thesmall hours, the early part of the night was cloudless, and the lane,which the maid's window overlooked, was brilliantly lit by the fullmoon. It seems she was romantically given, for she sat down upon herbox, which stood immediately under the window, and fell into a dream ofmusing. Never (she used to say, with streaming tears, when she narratedthat experience), never had she felt more at peace with all men orthought more kindly of the world. And as she so sat she became awareof an aged beautiful gentleman with white hair, drawing near along thelane; and advancing to meet him, another and very small gentleman, towhom 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 accostedthe other with a very pretty manner of politeness. It did not seem asif the subject of his address were of great importance; indeed, from hispointing, 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 towatch it, it seemed to breathe such an innocent and old-world kindnessof disposition, yet with something high too, as of a well-foundedself-content. Presently her eye wandered to the other, and she wassurprised to recognise in him a certain Mr. Hyde, who had once visitedher master and for whom she had conceived a dislike. He had in his handa 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 ofa 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) likea madman. The old gentleman took a step back, with the air of one verymuch surprised and a trifle hurt; and at that Mr. Hyde broke out ofall bounds and clubbed him to the earth. And next moment, with ape-likefury, he was trampling his victim under foot and hailing down a storm ofblows, under which the bones were audibly shattered and the body jumpedupon the roadway. At the horror of these sights and sounds, the maidfainted.

  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 middleof the lane, incredibly mangled. The stick with which the deed had beendone, although it was of some rare and very tough and heavy wood, hadbroken in the middle under the stress of this insensate cruelty; andone splintered half had rolled in the neighbouring gutter--the other,without doubt, had been carried away by the murderer. A purse and goldwatch were found upon the victim: but no cards or papers, except asealed and stamped envelope, which he had been probably carrying to thepost, and which bore the name and address of Mr. Utterson.

  This was brought to the lawyer the next morning, before he was out ofbed; and he had no sooner seen it and been told the circumstances, thanhe shot out a solemn lip. "I shall say nothing till I have seen thebody," said he; "this may be very serious. Have the kindness to waitwhile I dress." And with the same grave countenance he hurried throughhis breakfast and drove to the police station, whither the body had beencarried. As soon as he came into the cell, he nodded.

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

  "Good God, sir," exclaimed the officer, "is it possible?" And the nextmoment his eye lighted up with professional ambition. "This will make adeal of noise," he said. "And perhaps you can help us to the man." Andhe briefly narrated what the maid had seen, and showed the broken stick.

  Mr. Utterson had already quailed at the name of Hyde; but when the stickwas laid before him, he could doubt no longer; broken and battered as itwas, he recognized it for one that he had himself presented many yearsbefore to Henry Jekyll.

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

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

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

  It was by this time about nine in the morning, and the first fog of theseason. A great chocolate-coloured pall lowered over heaven, but thewind was continually charging and routing these embattled vapours; sothat as the cab crawled from street to street, Mr. Utterson beheld amarvelous number of degrees and hues of twilight; for here it would bedark like the back-end of evening; and there would be a glow of a rich,lurid brown, like the light of some strange conflagration; and here,for a moment, the fog would be quite broken up, and a haggard shaftof daylight would glance in between the swirling wreaths. The dismalquarter of Soho seen under these changing glimpses, with its muddyways, and slatternly passengers, and its lamps, which had neverbeen extinguished or had been kindled afresh to combat this mournfulreinvasion of darkness, seemed, in the lawyer's eyes, like a district ofsome city in a nightmare. The thoughts of his mind, besides, were of thegloomiest dye; and when he glanced at the companion of his drive, hewas conscious of some touch of that terror of the law and the law'sofficers, which may at times assail the most honest.

  As the cab drew up before the address indicated, the fog lifted a littleand 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 raggedchildren huddled in the doorways, and many women of many differentnationalities passing out, key in hand, to have a morning glass; andthe next moment the fog settled down again upon that part, as brown asumber, and cut him off from his blackguardly surroundings. This was thehome of Henry Jekyll's favourite; of a man who was heir to a quarter ofa million sterling.

  An ivory-faced and silvery-haired old woman opened the door. She had anevil 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 inthat 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, andhe was often absent; for instance, it was nearly two months since shehad seen him till yesterday.

  "Very well, then, we wish to see his rooms," said the lawyer; and whenthe woman began to declare it was impossible, "I had better tell youwho this person is," he added. "This is Inspector Newcomen of ScotlandYard."

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

  Mr. Utterson and the inspector exchanged glances. "He don't seem a verypopular character," observed the latter. "And now, my good woman, justlet me and this gentleman have a look about us."

  In the whole extent of the house, which but for the old woman remainedotherwise empty, Mr. Hyde had only used a couple of rooms; but thesewere furnished with luxury and good taste. A closet was filled withwine; the plate was of silver, the napery elegant; a good picture hungupon the walls, a gift (as Utterson supposed) from Henry Jekyll, who wasmuch of a connoisseur; and the carpets were of many plies and agreeablein colour. At this moment, however, the rooms bore every mark of havingbeen recently and hurriedly ransacked; clothes lay about the floor,with their pockets inside out; lock-fast drawers stood open; and on thehearth there lay a pile of grey ashes, as though many papers had beenburned. From these embers the inspector disinterred the butt end of agreen cheque book, which had resisted the action of the fire; the otherhalf of the stick was found behind the door; and as this clinched hissuspicions, the officer declared himself delighted. A visit to the bank,where several thousand pounds were found to be lying to the murderer'scredit, completed his gratification.

  "You may depend upon it, sir," he told Mr. Utterson: "I have him in myhand. He must have lost his head, or he never would have left the stickor, 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 thehandbills."

  This last, however, was not so easy of accomplishment;
for Mr. Hyde hadnumbered few familiars--even the master of the servant maid had onlyseen him twice; his family could nowhere be traced; he had never beenphotographed; and the few who could describe him differed widely, ascommon observers will. Only on one point were they agreed; and thatwas the haunting sense of unexpressed deformity with which the fugitiveimpressed his beholders.