THE LAST NIGHT
Mr. Utterson was sitting by his fireside one evening after dinner, whenhe was surprised to receive a visit from Poole.
"Bless me, Poole, what brings you here?" he cried; and then taking asecond look at him, "What ails you?" he added; "is the doctor ill?"
"Mr. Utterson," said the man, "there is something wrong."
"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."
"You know the doctor's ways, sir," replied Poole, "and how he shutshimself up. Well, he's shut up again in the cabinet; and I don't likeit, sir--I wish I may die if I like it. Mr. Utterson, sir, I'm afraid."
"Now, my good man," said the lawyer, "be explicit. What are you afraidof?"
"I've been afraid for about a week," returned Poole, doggedlydisregarding the question, "and I can bear it no more."
The man's appearance amply bore out his words; his manner was alteredfor the worse; and except for the moment when he had first announced histerror, he had not once looked the lawyer in the face. Even now, he satwith the glass of wine untasted on his knee, and his eyes directed to acorner of the floor. "I can bear it no more," he repeated.
"Come," said the lawyer, "I see you have some good reason, Poole; I seethere is something seriously amiss. Try to tell me what it is."
"I think there's been foul play," said Poole, hoarsely.
"Foul play!" cried the lawyer, a good deal frightened and ratherinclined to be irritated in consequence. "What foul play! What does theman mean?"
"I daren't say, sir," was the answer; "but will you come along with meand see for yourself?"
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 appearedupon the butler's face, and perhaps with no less, that the wine wasstill untasted when he set it down to follow.
It was a wild, cold, seasonable night of March, with a pale moon, lyingon her back as though the wind had tilted her, and flying wrack of themost diaphanous and lawny texture. The wind made talking difficult, andflecked the blood into the face. It seemed to have swept the streetsunusually bare of passengers, besides; for Mr. Utterson thought he hadnever seen that part of London so deserted. He could have wished itotherwise; never in his life had he been conscious of so sharp a wish tosee and touch his fellow-creatures; for struggle as he might, there wasborne 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 inthe garden were lashing themselves along the railing. Poole, who hadkept all the way a pace or two ahead, now pulled up in the middle ofthe pavement, and in spite of the biting weather, took off his hat andmopped his brow with a red pocket-handkerchief. But for all the hurry ofhis coming, these were not the dews of exertion that he wiped away, butthe moisture of some strangling anguish; for his face was white and hisvoice, when he spoke, harsh and broken.
"Well, sir," he said, "here we are, and God grant there be nothingwrong."
"Amen, Poole," said the lawyer.
Thereupon the servant knocked in a very guarded manner; the door wasopened on the chain; and a voice asked from within, "Is that you,Poole?"
"It's all right," said Poole. "Open the door."
The hall, when they entered it, was brightly lighted up; the fire wasbuilt high; and about the hearth the whole of the servants, men andwomen, 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 himin her arms.
"What, what? Are you all here?" said the lawyer peevishly. "Veryirregular, very unseemly; your master would be far from pleased."
"They're all afraid," said Poole.
Blank silence followed, no one protesting; only the maid lifted hervoice and now wept loudly.
"Hold your tongue!" Poole said to her, with a ferocity of accent thattestified to his own jangled nerves; and indeed, when the girl had sosuddenly raised the note of her lamentation, they had all started andturned towards the inner door with faces of dreadful expectation."And now," continued the butler, addressing the knife-boy, "reach me acandle, and we'll get this through hands at once." And then he beggedMr. Utterson to follow him, and led the way to the back garden.
"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 hewas to ask you in, don't go."
Mr. Utterson's nerves, at this unlooked-for termination, gave a jerkthat nearly threw him from his balance; but he recollected his courageand followed the butler into the laboratory building through thesurgical theatre, with its lumber of crates and bottles, to the footof 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 obviouscall on his resolution, mounted the steps and knocked with a somewhatuncertain hand on the red baize of the cabinet door.
"Mr. Utterson, sir, asking to see you," he called; and even as he didso, once more violently signed to the lawyer to give ear.
A voice answered from within: "Tell him I cannot see anyone," it saidcomplainingly.
"Thank you, sir," said Poole, with a note of something like triumph inhis voice; and taking up his candle, he led Mr. Utterson back across theyard and into the great kitchen, where the fire was out and the beetleswere leaping on the floor.
"Sir," he said, looking Mr. Utterson in the eyes, "Was that my master'svoice?"
"It seems much changed," replied the lawyer, very pale, but giving lookfor look.
"Changed? Well, yes, I think so," said the butler. "Have I been twentyyears 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 weheard him cry out upon the name of God; and who's in there insteadof him, and why it stays there, is a thing that cries to Heaven, Mr.Utterson!"
"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 themurderer to stay? That won't hold water; it doesn't commend itself toreason."
"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 itis that lives in that cabinet, has been crying night and day for somesort of medicine and cannot get it to his mind. It was sometimes hisway--the master's, that is--to write his orders on a sheet of paper andthrow it on the stair. We've had nothing else this week back; nothingbut papers, and a closed door, and the very meals left there to besmuggled in when nobody was looking. Well, sir, every day, ay, and twiceand thrice in the same day, there have been orders and complaints, and Ihave been sent flying to all the wholesale chemists in town. Every timeI brought the stuff back, there would be another paper telling me toreturn it, because it was not pure, and another order to a differentfirm. This drug is wanted bitter bad, sir, whatever for."
"Have you any of these papers?" asked Mr. Utterson.
Poole felt in his pocket and handed out a crumpled note, which thelawyer, bending nearer to the candle, carefully examined. Its contentsran thus: "Dr. Jekyll presents his compliments to Messrs. Maw. Heassures them that their last sample is impure and quite useless for hispresent purpose. In the year 18--, Dr. J. purchased a somewhat largequantity from Messrs. M. He now begs them to search with most sedulouscare, and should any of the same quality be left, forward it to him atonce. Expense is no consideration. The importance of this to Dr. J. canhardly be exaggerated." So far the letter had run composedly enough, buthere with a sudden splutter of the pen, the writer's emotion had brokenloose. "For God's sake," he added, "find me some of the old."
"This is a strange note," said Mr. Utterson; and then sharply, "How doyou come to have it open?"
"The man at Maw's was main angry, sir, and he threw it back to me likeso much dirt," re
turned Poole.
"This is unquestionably the doctor's hand, do you know?" resumed thelawyer.
"I thought it looked like it," said the servant rather sulkily; andthen, with another voice, "But what matters hand of write?" he said."I've seen him!"
"Seen him?" repeated Mr. Utterson. "Well?"
"That's it!" said Poole. "It was this way. I came suddenly into thetheatre from the garden. It seems he had slipped out to look for thisdrug or whatever it is; for the cabinet door was open, and there he wasat the far end of the room digging among the crates. He looked up whenI came in, gave a kind of cry, and whipped upstairs into the cabinet. Itwas but for one minute that I saw him, but the hair stood upon my headlike quills. Sir, if that was my master, why had he a mask upon hisface? If it was my master, why did he cry out like a rat, and run fromme? I have served him long enough. And then..." The man paused andpassed his hand over his face.
"These are all very strange circumstances," said Mr. Utterson, "but Ithink I begin to see daylight. Your master, Poole, is plainly seizedwith one of those maladies that both torture and deform the sufferer;hence, for aught I know, the alteration of his voice; hence the mask andthe avoidance of his friends; hence his eagerness to find this drug, bymeans of which the poor soul retains some hope of ultimate recovery--Godgrant that he be not deceived! There is my explanation; it is sadenough, Poole, ay, and appalling to consider; but it is plain andnatural, hangs well together, and delivers us from all exorbitantalarms."
"Sir," said the butler, turning to a sort of mottled pallor, "that thingwas not my master, and there's the truth. My master"--here he lookedround him and began to whisper--"is a tall, fine build of a man, andthis 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 themask 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."
"Poole," replied the lawyer, "if you say that, it will become my duty tomake certain. Much as I desire to spare your master's feelings, much asI am puzzled by this note which seems to prove him to be still alive, Ishall consider it my duty to break in that door."
"Ah, Mr. Utterson, that's talking!" cried the butler.
"And now comes the second question," resumed Utterson: "Who is going todo it?"
"Why, you and me, sir," was the undaunted reply.
"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."
"There is an axe in the theatre," continued Poole; "and you might takethe kitchen poker for yourself."
The lawyer took that rude but weighty instrument into his hand, andbalanced it. "Do you know, Poole," he said, looking up, "that you and Iare about to place ourselves in a position of some peril?"
"You may say so, sir, indeed," returned the butler.
"It is well, then that we should be frank," said the other. "We boththink more than we have said; let us make a clean breast. This maskedfigure that you saw, did you recognise it?"
"Well, sir, it went so quick, and the creature was so doubled up, thatI could hardly swear to that," was the answer. "But if you mean, was itMr. Hyde?--why, yes, I think it was! You see, it was much of the samebigness; and it had the same quick, light way with it; and then who elsecould have got in by the laboratory door? You have not forgot, sir, thatat the time of the murder he had still the key with him? But that's notall. I don't know, Mr. Utterson, if you ever met this Mr. Hyde?"
"Yes," said the lawyer, "I once spoke with him."
"Then you must know as well as the rest of us that there was somethingqueer about that gentleman--something that gave a man a turn--I don'tknow rightly how to say it, sir, beyond this: that you felt in yourmarrow kind of cold and thin."
"I own I felt something of what you describe," said Mr. Utterson.
"Quite so, sir," returned Poole. "Well, when that masked thing like amonkey jumped from among the chemicals and whipped into the cabinet, itwent 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 giveyou my bible-word it was Mr. Hyde!"
"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, Ibelieve 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'sroom. Well, let our name be vengeance. Call Bradshaw."
The footman came at the summons, very white and nervous.
"Put yourself together, Bradshaw," said the lawyer. "This suspense, Iknow, is telling upon all of you; but it is now our intention to makean end of it. Poole, here, and I are going to force our way into thecabinet. If all is well, my shoulders are broad enough to bearthe blame. Meanwhile, lest anything should really be amiss, or anymalefactor seek to escape by the back, you and the boy must go round thecorner with a pair of good sticks and take your post at the laboratorydoor. We give you ten minutes, to get to your stations."
As Bradshaw left, the lawyer looked at his watch. "And now, Poole, letus get to ours," he said; and taking the poker under his arm, led theway into the yard. The scud had banked over the moon, and it was nowquite dark. The wind, which only broke in puffs and draughts into thatdeep well of building, tossed the light of the candle to and fro abouttheir steps, until they came into the shelter of the theatre, where theysat down silently to wait. London hummed solemnly all around; but nearerat hand, the stillness was only broken by the sounds of a footfallmoving to and fro along the cabinet floor.
"So it will walk all day, sir," whispered Poole; "ay, and the betterpart 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 anenemy to rest! Ah, sir, there's blood foully shed in every step ofit! But hark again, a little closer--put your heart in your ears, Mr.Utterson, and tell me, is that the doctor's foot?"
The steps fell lightly and oddly, with a certain swing, for all theywent so slowly; it was different indeed from the heavy creaking tread ofHenry Jekyll. Utterson sighed. "Is there never anything else?" he asked.
Poole nodded. "Once," he said. "Once I heard it weeping!"
"Weeping? how that?" said the lawyer, conscious of a sudden chill ofhorror.
"Weeping like a woman or a lost soul," said the butler. "I came awaywith that upon my heart, that I could have wept too."
But now the ten minutes drew to an end. Poole disinterred the axe fromunder a stack of packing straw; the candle was set upon the nearesttable to light them to the attack; and they drew near with bated breathto where that patient foot was still going up and down, up and down, inthe quiet of the night. "Jekyll," cried Utterson, with a loud voice, "Idemand to see you." He paused a moment, but there came no reply. "I giveyou fair warning, our suspicions are aroused, and I must and shall seeyou," he resumed; "if not by fair means, then by foul--if not of yourconsent, then by brute force!"
"Utterson," said the voice, "for God's sake, have mercy!"
"Ah, that's not Jekyll's voice--it's Hyde's!" cried Utterson. "Down withthe door, Poole!"
Poole swung the axe over his shoulder; the blow shook the building, andthe 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 theblow fell; but the wood was tough and the fittings were of excellentworkmanship; and it was not until the fifth, that the lock burst and thewreck of the door fell inwards on the carpet.
The besiegers, appalled by their own riot and the stillness that hadsucceeded, stood back a little and peered in. There lay the cabinetbefore their eyes in the quiet lamplight, a good fire glowing andchattering on the hearth, the kettle singing its thin strain, a draweror two open, papers neatly set forth on the
business table, and nearerthe fire, the things laid out for tea; the quietest room, you wouldhave said, and, but for the glazed presses full of chemicals, the mostcommonplace that night in London.
Right in the middle there lay the body of a man sorely contorted andstill twitching. They drew near on tiptoe, turned it on its back andbeheld the face of Edward Hyde. He was dressed in clothes far too largefor him, clothes of the doctor's bigness; the cords of his face stillmoved with a semblance of life, but life was quite gone: and by thecrushed phial in the hand and the strong smell of kernels that hungupon the air, Utterson knew that he was looking on the body of aself-destroyer.
"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 bodyof your master."
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 lookedupon the court. A corridor joined the theatre to the door on theby-street; and with this the cabinet communicated separately by a secondflight of stairs. There were besides a few dark closets and a spaciouscellar. All these they now thoroughly examined. Each closet needed buta glance, for all were empty, and all, by the dust that fell from theirdoors, had stood long unopened. The cellar, indeed, was filled withcrazy lumber, mostly dating from the times of the surgeon who wasJekyll's predecessor; but even as they opened the door they wereadvertised of the uselessness of further search, by the fall of aperfect mat of cobweb which had for years sealed up the entrance. Nowhere was there any trace of Henry Jekyll dead or alive.
Poole stamped on the flags of the corridor. "He must be buried here," hesaid, hearkening to the sound.
"Or he may have fled," said Utterson, and he turned to examine the doorin the by-street. It was locked; and lying near by on the flags, theyfound the key, already stained with rust.
"This does not look like use," observed the lawyer.
"Use!" echoed Poole. "Do you not see, sir, it is broken? much as if aman had stamped on it."
"Ay," continued Utterson, "and the fractures, too, are rusty." The twomen looked at each other with a scare. "This is beyond me, Poole," saidthe lawyer. "Let us go back to the cabinet."
They mounted the stair in silence, and still with an occasionalawestruck glance at the dead body, proceeded more thoroughly to examinethe contents of the cabinet. At one table, there were traces of chemicalwork, various measured heaps of some white salt being laid on glasssaucers, as though for an experiment in which the unhappy man had beenprevented.
"That is the same drug that I was always bringing him," said Poole; andeven as he spoke, the kettle with a startling noise boiled over.
This brought them to the fireside, where the easy-chair was drawn cosilyup, and the tea things stood ready to the sitter's elbow, the very sugarin the cup. There were several books on a shelf; one lay beside the teathings open, and Utterson was amazed to find it a copy of a pious work,for which Jekyll had several times expressed a great esteem, annotated,in his own hand with startling blasphemies.
Next, in the course of their review of the chamber, the searchers cameto the cheval-glass, into whose depths they looked with an involuntaryhorror. But it was so turned as to show them nothing but the rosy glowplaying on the roof, the fire sparkling in a hundred repetitionsalong the glazed front of the presses, and their own pale and fearfulcountenances stooping to look in.
"This glass has seen some strange things, sir," whispered Poole.
"And surely none stranger than itself," echoed the lawyer in the sametones. "For what did Jekyll"--he caught himself up at the word with astart, and then conquering the weakness--"what could Jekyll want withit?" he said.
"You may say that!" said Poole.
Next they turned to the business table. On the desk, among the neatarray of papers, a large envelope was uppermost, and bore, in thedoctor's hand, the name of Mr. Utterson. The lawyer unsealed it, andseveral enclosures fell to the floor. The first was a will, drawn in thesame 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 caseof disappearance; but in place of the name of Edward Hyde, the lawyer,with indescribable amazement read the name of Gabriel John Utterson. Helooked at Poole, and then back at the paper, and last of all at the deadmalefactor stretched upon the carpet.
"My head goes round," he said. "He has been all these days inpossession; he had no cause to like me; he must have raged to seehimself displaced; and he has not destroyed this document."
He caught up the next paper; it was a brief note in the doctor's handand dated at the top. "O Poole!" the lawyer cried, "he was alive andhere this day. He cannot have been disposed of in so short a space; hemust 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 mustbe careful. I foresee that we may yet involve your master in some direcatastrophe."
"Why don't you read it, sir?" asked Poole.
"Because I fear," replied the lawyer solemnly. "God grant I have nocause for it!" And with that he brought the paper to his eyes and readas follows:
"My dear Utterson,--When this shall fall into your hands, I shall havedisappeared, under what circumstances I have not the penetration toforesee, but my instinct and all the circumstances of my namelesssituation tell me that the end is sure and must be early. Go then, andfirst read the narrative which Lanyon warned me he was to place in yourhands; and if you care to hear more, turn to the confession of
"Your unworthy and unhappy friend,
"HENRY JEKYLL."
"There was a third enclosure?" asked Utterson.
"Here, sir," said Poole, and gave into his hands a considerable packetsealed in several places.
The lawyer put it in his pocket. "I would say nothing of this paper. Ifyour master has fled or is dead, we may at least save his credit. It isnow ten; I must go home and read these documents in quiet; but I shallbe back before midnight, when we shall send for the police."
They went out, locking the door of the theatre behind them; andUtterson, once more leaving the servants gathered about the fire in thehall, trudged back to his office to read the two narratives in whichthis mystery was now to be explained.