R.L. Stevenson: Jekyll and Hyde
(Oczywi¶cie lektury te kupujemy, nawet po 2 egzemplarze, ale w naszej szkole do konkursu FOX przystępuje 75 osób...)

MR GABRIEL UTTERSON, THE LAWYER, WAS A MAN WHO WAS MODERATE IN THE things he liked, never overdoing things. He was also very careful in the way he treated others. If he saw a friend acting wrongly, he would not say anything. He felt that his friends should make their own way through life, without being criticised. However, he would try to help, if someone asked him.
One of his friends was a cousin of his, named Richard Enfield. They liked to take long walks together. People said they did not usually talk while walking; they liked to just look around. These walks were very important to both men, and they made sure nothing was allowed to cancel one of them.
One day, on one of these walks, they went down a side street, in a busy part of London. The street was small, but had shops which were very busy. They were well-painted, and looked bright and attractive. They gave an impression of happiness, laughter and freshness.
But, at one point, the line of shops was broken by the entry to a courtyard. Right at the entry stood a tall, dark building, with something very sinister about it. It was two-storeys high, run-down and dirty, and it looked as if it badly needed repainting. There were no windows looking towards the street, only an old, worn-out door.
Enfield pointed at the door. "This door is connected in my mind with a very odd story", he said.
"What story?" Utterson asked.
Enfield began. "Well, this is what happened. I was coming home late. It was 3 o'clock in the morning, a dark winter's morning. All the streets were empty.
Suddenly, I saw not one, but two figures at once: a little man, walking fast, on one side, and, coming down a side street, a girl who was maybe eight or ten years old. She was running as fast as she could. Well, they ran into each other at a corner. He knocked the child to the ground and didn't even stop to see how she was. He just continued, while she lay there screaming. I ran after him, grabbed him and dragged him back to the place of the attack. A group of people had already gathered around the girl.
Her family turned up to the scene and a doctor was called for the girl. It was then that a strange thing happened. As I was holding the man, he turned to look at me. His look was so ugly that it made me sweat. And, Gabriel, it wasn't just me who felt that way. The girl's family, even the good doctor, seemed so angry they could kill him. There was something about him that made everyone hate him instantly.
The man looked worried but appeared to be more concerned about getting away than paying any attention to the condition of the girl.
Well, it was obvious that he needed to be punished for his actions, particularly since he didn't care about what he had done. So, we told him we would let everyone in London know what he'd done, so that he would lose any friends he had, and no-one would trust him anymore.
In his cool way, he said 'I'm alone here, and, as a gentleman, I wish to avoid any scandal. I'm willing to give some money to make up for what I've done. Tell me how much you want.' We said one hundred pounds and he protested, but he finally agreed.
The next move was to get the money. Well, Gabriel, he took us to the very door I started this story with!
When we arrived there, he took out a key, went in, and came back out with ten pounds in gold and a cheque for the rest of the money.
I was surprised to see the name of the writer of the cheque. It would not be right to name the person. But it was someone with a high reputation in London, someone who people look up to and respect. I knew he could easily afford such a sum of money. But was the cheque genuine? Perhaps it had been stolen, and someone signed it pretending to be he original writer? After all, it was hard to believe that the well-respected person who had signed the cheque would have anything to do with such a man as this, who didn't care about the wrong things he did.
So, a group of us spent all night at my house: myself, the doctor, the child's father, and the nasty fellow. In the morning we all went together to the bank. I told the bank workers the cheque was probably a fake. But, no, the cheque was genuine, and it was changed for cash!"
Enfield had finished his story. Both men walked on in silence.

UTTERSON'S MIND WAS FIXED ON THE STORY HE HAD JUST HEARD."A BAD BUSINESS," he said. "Yes," Enfield responded, "a bad business. I am sure no-one would want to have anything to do with the nasty fellow I saw. On the other hand, the writer of the cheque is famous for doing good in the world. So, what makes him give his money to that hateful man? Blackmail, I think. Maybe there are things he did when he was younger which must be kept secret. Small things, no doubt, but enough to make him unhappy if they were known. But, even if I am right, there are still many questions that need answers."
There was silence for a time. Enfield could see Utterson was thinking deeply about the whole matter. After some time Utterson asked "Does the writer of the cheque live there?"
Enfield replied "Well, it's possible but I cannot say with certainty. He lives in some square or other. I went to the courtyard myself to see, and the buildings are so close to each other, that it's hard to tell where one house ends and another begins."
"And you haven't asked about the place with the door, or tried to investigate the whole thing more?"
Enfield said "No. It would look as if I'm judging someone for their actions, and I don't want to do this. It may start trouble. If I start digging up things, who knows what I might discover? No, the stranger things look, the less I ask. That's my rule!"
"That's a good rule," said the lawyer, "but I still want to ask the name of that man who walked over the child".
"Well, I don't think there will be any trouble if I tell you that. His name was Hyde," said Enfield.
"What did he look like?" asked Utterson.
Enfield hesitated. "He is hard to describe. There is something very disturbing about him, more than just his violent behaviour. He seems to be extraordinary and somehow un-human, however I can't say exactly why."
Again, there was a long silence, until Utterson asked "You're sure he used a key?"
"Quite sure", a surprised Enfield replied.
"I need you to be sure of the whole story, Richard, because, to tell you the truth, I have already worked out the name of the writer of the cheque."
"I have been very exact in all the details", replied Enfield.
The lawyer sighed. "I trust you, Richard. But I feel I've asked you too much. Let's not talk about this again."
Both men agreed not to mention the subject again.
That evening, Utterson went home with a lot on his mind. He ate his supper without really tasting it. Usually, on Sundays, he liked to read after supper, but he was now so troubled that he went straight to his office. From his metal safe, he took out an envelope. Written on it was "Dr Jekyll's Will". He sat down to study it. It said that, in the event of the death of Dr Henry Jekyll, all of his possessions were to be handed over to his "friend, Edward Hyde." The same instructions were given in case Dr Jekyll were to disappear for more than three months.
For a long time, the lawyer had disliked this paper. He did not know Hyde, and this had made him uncomfortable with the arrangement. Also, it seemed rather unusual that his good friend should leave everything to a stranger. His suspicion was now much greater after hearing about Hyde, and he feared his friend was under the control of a criminal.
The lawyer now decided to visit Dr Hastie Lanyon, who was a friend of both Jekyll and himself.
Maybe Dr Lanyon had some information that would help him decide what to do.
He went to the doctor's house, and the butler showed him into the dining room.
Lanyon was a healthy, red-faced man, with white hair. He greeted Utterson in a very friendly way, and they talked for a while about how their lives were getting along. Then the lawyer asked "Hastie, I want to talk to you about Henry Jekyll. You and I are his oldest friends and I am worried about him."
Lanyon laughed. "Pity we're not younger! It's true, we are his closest friends. But I have to tell you, I don't see him very often nowadays."
"That's surprising! Since you are both doctors, I thought you two had a lot to share," said Utterson. Lanyon's face became more serious. "Well, you see, this is what happened. He began to get involved with strange ideas, dark things, things that nobody should get involved with. I thought the best thing to do was to stay away from him after that. I now see him only occasionally, because we're old friends, just as you said."
Utterson thought to himself, "It will just be some scientific point that they've disagreed on." He asked, "Have you ever heard of a friend of his, Edward Hyde?"
"No, he must be a new friend," answered Lanyon.
Eventually, as he couldn't get any new information on Hyde and his strange relationship with Henry Jekyll, the lawyer said goodbye and left.

LATER THAT NIGHT, UTTERSON LAY IN HIS BED, UNABLE TO SLEEP. HlS COUSIN'S story went through his mind over and over again: the dark streets, the collision with the child. But he could not quite picture Hyde. He imagined his good friend Henry Jekyll, peaceful at his home. Then Hyde would suddenly appear, and force the good doctor to carry out his orders. Utterson fell asleep at last, and had disturbing dreams where Hyde was always present, yet he was still unable to picture him.
He awoke suddenly. It was clear to him now what he had to do. He had to see Hyde, perhaps even talk to him. This might explain what the link between Jekyll and Hyde was. At least, he might see what caused people to be so afraid of Hyde, and disgusted by him.
There was only one way to find him, and that was to keep watch on the door of his cousin's story. So Utterson spent a lot of time there. He watched the door very early in the morning, when few people were about. He watched it midday, when the street was crowded. And he watched it late at night, when it was very quiet.
Some time passed. Then, one night, he saw Hyde.
It was a clear, cold night, so quiet he could clearly hear distant sounds. Utterson heard footsteps approaching. Something in the sound of these steps made him feel worried. He could not think why, but some strong instinct told him the man he was waiting for was coming closer.
Utterson drew back into the shadows.
The steps got closer and louder.
And then the walker was in sight.
Utterson saw a small man, plainly dressed. Yet even from a distance, the sight made him feel bad.
Moving quickly, the figure approached the door, taking a key from his pocket. Just as he was putting it in the lock, Utterson tapped him on the shoulder. "Mr Hyde, I think?"
Hyde suddenly hissed and turned around. Keeping his face low, he said "That's my name. What do you want?"
"Just to talk a bit inside, if you will let me," said Utterson. It's about our common friend, Dr Henry Jekyll. I am Mr Gabriel Utterson, a lawyer. I'm sure you must have heard of me."
"What makes you think that I am Mr Hyde?" asked the man, annoyed.
"Before I tell you, will you please let me see your face?" asked Utterson.
Hyde hesitated. He seemed to be thinking about it. Then, proudly, he raised his head. They stared silently at each other. Utterson said, "Thank you. It maybe necessary in my work to know you."
Hyde responded, "Yes, it's good we have met. And you should have my address".
He gave the lawyer an address in Soho. Then he said "How did you know who I am?"
"From someone's description. We have common friends," replied Utterson.
"Who?" asked the man, curiously.
"Dr Jekyll, for instance," answered the lawyer.
Hyde became very angry. "You're a liar, sir! He never told you!!" he growled and quickly went inside, slamming the door.
Utterson remained motionless for some time, his troubled mind filled with many thoughts and questions. He thought about Hyde. His deformed body, the disturbing smile and the broken, whispering voice.
Utterson felt complete disgust, and fear for his friend Jekyll. He also felt that he should immediately warn his friend. He turned right into a small street, and walked to Jekyll's nearby house. A well-dressed, elderly servant opened the door.
"Is Dr Jekyll at home, Poole?" requested the lawyer.
"One moment, sir, while I look," he said. When he returned, he said Dr Jekyll was ovt. "I saw Mr Hyde go in by the old laboratory door, Poole," Utterson said. "Is that right, when Dr Jekyll is not in?"
Poole told him Hyde had a key, and that all the servants were instructed to obey him.
The lawyer said, "Poole, I do not think I have ever met him here."
"Well sir, he never dines here, and he always comes and goes by the laboratory," answered the servant.
Utterson walked home with a heavy heart. He said to himself, "Jekyll was wild when he was young. He must have done something, that Hyde has discovered and is blackmailing him about! Even I did things that I'd rather forget!
Yet Hyde must have even darker secrets, and darker purposes... he must know about the will... is that why he gave me his Soho address? Then Henry's life is in great danger! Hyde might kill him, to get his possessions! I must do something to help Henry!"

TWO WEEKS LATER, DR JfiKYLL HELD A DINNER PARTY. UTTERSON WAS THERE. After the other guests had left, he stayed behind to talk privately with Jekyll. They sat near the fireplace.
Dr Henry Jekyll was a large man, smooth-faced, and about fifty years old.
Utterson began. "Henry, I've wanted to talk to you about your will."
Jekyll smiled. "Gabriel, I never saw a man so anxious as you are about my will! Maybe only Lanyon has been equally distressed about me."
"You know I never approved of the will. And now, I have been hearing things about Hyde, terrible things," said Utterson.
Jekyll lost his calm smile, and grew very pale. "We had agreed not to talk about this. It makes no difference what you've heard. Gabriel, you don't know about my relationship with Hyde. It's a very strange one, and it isn't easy to talk about."
Utterson said, "Henry, we've been friends for a long time. Tell me what is wrong. I am sure I can help you."
Jekyll smiled again. "Gabriel, you really are the best of friends! I trust you more than anyone else. But, don't worry! If I want to, I can be rid of Hyde in a moment. But again, please, this is a private matter. Don't speak of it any more."
Utterson paused to think. "I suppose you're right," he said.
Jekyll was relieved. "Good!" he exclaimed. "Now, one last point. I have taken a very strong interest in Edward Hyde. If I suddenly die, or disappear, it is very important he gets his full rights from my will. You must promise to do this for me... even though I know he was rude to you when you met!"
"I will always dislike him!" cried the lawyer.
Jekyll laid his hand warmly on Utterson's shoulder. "I'm not asking you to like him," he said. "Only that he gets justice. For my sake, Gabriel!"
The lawyer sighed. "Very well. I promise."
About a year later, around eleven o'clock on an October night, a maid-servant opened her window to the beautiful cloudless night. The lane below her window was brilliantly lit by the moon. She felt very peaceful and happy, and that everything was right with the world. As she was looking out, she saw an old gentleman walking along the lane. A smaller man was coming from the opposite direction. The two neared each other just below the maid's window. She could see the old gentleman's face, and it looked noble and kind. Then her eye turned to the smaller man, whom she recognised as Edward Hyde.
Hyde had once visited her master's house, and she had disliked him as soon as she saw him.
The old gentleman now seemed to lean forward. The maid supposed that he was quietly and politely asking Hyde something, possibly how to get to a certain place.
All the while, Hyde was nervous and impatient, never saying anything. He constantly played with a heavy cane in his hand. Suddenly, Hyde stamped his foot and waved the cane angrily. The old gentleman stepped back, frightened. Hyde's next move was that of a madman. He struck the other man several times with his cane, and the old gentleman fell to the ground, motionless.
The maid fainted.
It was two o'clock when the maid came round, and she immediately called the police. The police found the old gentleman dead. Next to him, one half of the cane lay in the gutter, and it seemed the other half had been carried away by the attacker. The cane was made of very strong wood but even so, Hyde's attack had been so strong it had broken.
The body was taken to a police station. No-one knew who the old gentleman was, so the body was searched for anything that might identify him. A purse and a gold watch were found but there were no cards or papers that named him.
However there was an envelope, which he had probably been taking to the Post Office. It was addressed to "Mr Utterson."

THE NEXT MORNING, BEFORE HE HAD EVEN GOT OUT OF BED, A POLICEMAN CAME to Utterson's house. The policeman told him about the body in the lane, and about the envelope found on it. The lawyer listened carefully. Then he said, "I'll say nothing, until I see the body."
He dressed, ate breakfast in a hurry, and then went to the police-station. He was taken to the room where the body lay. An officer was waiting there for him.
Utterson nodded his head. "Yes, I do recognise him. This is Sir Danvers Carew, a Member of Parliament."
The officer looked shocked. "There will be a lot of trouble over this, since the murdered man was someone that important!" Then he told Utterson what the maid had seen. Utterson turned pale at the sound of Hyde's name. He desperately hoped there had been some mistake about the name of the murderer. But then he was shown the broken cane. Even though it was knocked about, he recognised it. He had given it as a present to Jekyll some years ago.
Still hoping, he asked the officer, "Is this Mr Hyde a small person?"
"Sir, the maid describes him as particularly small, and particularly evil-looking."
Utterson lowered his head. His heart sank. He was now sure that the murderer was the same man he had met earlier.
He raised his head. "If you come with me in my cab, I think I can take you to Mr Hyde's house," he told the officer.
It was about nine in the morning when they set out. The first fog of the season rolled in. After a while, they reached Soho, where Hyde had said he lived. It was a muddy and dark part of London, with dirty, run-down buildings. The people who lived there also looked poor and dirty. Utterson felt depressed. The place looked as awful as the reason why they were there.
At last, the cab stopped in front of Hyde's address. 'What a dark, ugly-looking place!' Utterson thought. They knocked on the door, and a silvery-haired old woman opened it. She was polite, but Utterson felt that she was hiding something. She told them that Hyde was not in. He had come in last night, but had stayed for less than an hour. She had no idea where he had gone. Last night was the first time she had seen him in nearly two months.
"Very well, then, we'd like to see his rooms", Utterson said.
"That's quite impossible!" the old woman said firmly.
Utterson was very strict with her, as he did not like her attitude. "My dear woman, there is something I should tell you. This gentleman with me is Inspector Newcomen of Scotland Yard!"
The woman looked pleased at this, but Utterson found her expression unpleasant. She said "Ah! He is in trouble then! What has he done?"
The two men looked at each other. The inspector said, "This Hyde seems to be an unpopular fellow." Then he turned to the woman and said, "Come on now, take us to his rooms."
Since she now understood it was a police matter, the old woman let them in without any more hesitation.
Hyde only used two rooms. These, however, were expensively furnished. A cupboard was full of crystal bottles. There were plates of silver, and the carpets were bright and colourful. An expensive painting hung on the wall.
However, it looked as if someone had recently gone through the rooms in a great hurry. Drawers were half-open, clothes had their pockets turned inside out.
The Inspector suddenly noticed the fireplace, called out to Utterson, and hurried towards it. In the fireplace was a large pile of grey ashes. With a cry of delight, the Inspector pulled something out. It was part of a bank chequebook, and it had not been totally burnt. The address of the bank was on the chequebook, and they decided to continue the investigation there. As they were leaving, Utterson noticed a stick behind a door. It was the other half of the cane.
At the bank, they found out that there was still two thousand pounds in Hyde's bank account. The Inspector said confidently to Utterson "Well, he must have left in a great panic! Or else he would not have forgotten the broken cane, or burnt the chequebook. Now we will have to watch the bank. He will need money, sooner or later, and when he comes in, we will arrest him!"
But it turned out to be a far more difficult job than Inspector Newcomen had expected. The police needed a description of Hyde, but when people tried to describe him, they found it very difficult. Everyone who saw him felt there was something very strange and annoying about him, yet no one could say exactly what it was.

UTTERSON RETURNED TO JEKYLL'S HOME, WHERE PoOLE LED HIM ACROSS THE YARD to the laboratory. The laboratory looked grey and uninviting, with broken chemical equipment lying around. The dim afternoon light made it look even worse.
At the further end, there was a flight of steps leading up to a red door. Utterson went through it, and he was now in Jekyll's private office. It was a large room with many rows of chemical containers. A lighted lamp sat on the fireplace.
And there, near the fire, sat Jekyll. He looked very sick. He did not get up, but he greeted Utterson. The lawyer felt amazed at the change in Jekyll's voice.
Utterson began the conversation. "Have you heard the news?"
Jekyll looked worried. "They are shouting it all over the streets! I heard them from my dining-room!"
Utterson looked at him thoughtfully. "Carew was my client. But so are you. So, Henry, I have to say: I hope you have not been mad enough to hide him!" He meant Hyde, of course.
The doctor cried "Utterson, I swear to God I will never set eyes on him again! I am completely finished with him. Finished, forever! No one will ever see him again!"
Utterson listened, wondering about his friend. He had never before seen Jekyll so frightened and sickly-looking. "You seem very sure, Henry. Actually, I hope you're right. If he were caught, and put on trial.. .well, he might mention your name in court, and there would be a scandal," he said.
"I am sure, believe me!" replied Jekyll. "Though I can't tell you why. However, there is a matter on which I would like your advice. I have..." the doctor stopped talking. Again Utterson wondered at the change. This lack of confidence and uncertainty was not usual in his friend.
"I... have received a letter," continued the doctor. "I don't know whether or not to show it to the police. The only clear decision I can make now is to give it to you, Gabriel. I will leave the decision to you. I trust you greatly, and I know you will choose wisely."
"I suppose you're afraid the letter could be used to track him to his hiding-place?" asked Utterson.
"No," said Jekyll in a broken voice. "I've finished with Hyde, I don't care what happens to him. But I don't want my connection to him to become known. All of London would think badly of me because of it!"
Utterson thought, "Well, this is very unlike Henry! Thinking of himself before anyone else! Still, that may save him."
He said, "Well, the best thing is for me to see that letter."
The letter was signed "Edward Hyde" and the handwriting looked very familiar to Utterson. 2Q
It said Hyde felt guilty because his actions caused a lot of trouble for Jekyll, while Jekyll had shown him only generosity. It also said the good doctor should have no fears for Hyde, as he could take care of himself.
Utterson felt some relief at reading this, and then he asked "Do you have the envelope, Henry?"
The doctor said, "No, I burned it. But we would not have found out any more information from it. There was no Post Office stamp on it. The note was handed in."
"Can I keep the letter? And can I give it to the police, if I think that's the right thing to do?" asked Utterson.
"Of course!" exclaimed Jekyll. "I have lost confidence in myself, so you can do whatever you think is best."
Utterson said, "Alright, Henry. I'll think carefully what to do with it. Now, one last matter: the part of your will that said Hyde would get everything if you disappeared. Was t' at Hyde's idea? Did he force you to put that in?"
\ he question made Jekyll's face turn pale. His mouth tightened and he nodded.
"I knew it!" the lawyer answered. "He meant to murder you, I am sure, Henry!"
"I must learn from this experience and never do anything like it again," said Jekyll, and he buried his face in his hands.
On his way out, Utterson stopped to talk briefly with Poole. "Poole, a messenger arrived today with a letter. Can you describe him to me?"
Poole shook his head. "No messenger today, sir. Just the normal Post Office deliveries."
Utterson left, troubled by this new information. As he walked along, he could hear the newspaper sellers calling out "Special Edition! Shocking murder of a Member Of Parliament!"
Things were now very complicated, thought the lawyer. He should help his friend, but he should be careful to avoid any scandal. He needed advice, but he should get it in a quiet, indirect way.
Later, Utterson sat by his fireplace. His head clerk, Mr Guest, sat opposite him. Utterson was considering showing Guest the letter, as he trusted him very much. Guest also knew Poole and he probably knew of Hyde's frequent visits to Jekyll's house, but most important of all, Guest was a student of handwriting, and he liked to give advice. Surely, then, he would have something valuable to say about the letter.
Utterson said, "This is a sad business about Sir Danvers."
"Yes indeed, sir. The murderer must be mad," said the clerk.
"Well, just between us, I have here a letter written by the killer. I'm not sure what to do with it, and I want your advice."
Guest looked very interested, and eagerly studied the letter. Then he said, "Well, it does not seem to be from a madman. Though it is written in an odd style. It looks..."
Just then, a servant entered with a note for the lawyer. Guest said, "Is that, possibly, from Dr Jekyll, sir?"
"Yes. It's just an invitation to dinner. Why? Do you want to see it?" asked Utterson.
"If I may, please, sir. Thank you," said the clerk. He compared the two sheets of paper, then he looked up. "The murderer's handwriting looked quite familiar. In fact, sir, the two styles are identical. They're just differently sloped."
There was a long silence after the comment.
Utterson finally said, "I must ask you not to speak to anyone about the letter."
Guest nodded." I understand, sir."
Later that night, Utterson locked Hyde's letter in his metal safe. He was horrified at the idea that Henry Jekyll had written a letter for a murderer.

TIME PASSED. A LARGE REWARD, THOUSANDS OF POUNDS, WAS OFFERED TO ANYONE who could help the police catch Hyde. But Hyde had completely vanished after the night in the Soho house. There were plenty of stories about his past behaviour: his criminal acts, his cruelty. But where he was right now, no one could say.
Utterson felt happier because of this. The murder had been an ugly thing, but at least Hyde was gone, and could do no more harm to people. And even better, he saw a positive change in Jekyll.
The doctor had stopped hiding away from people in his house. He started meeting people again, he renewed his good work in society, and was seen in church. His face was bright again, and he looked healthier. For more than two months, the doctor was at peace. And he, Utterson, and Dr Lanyon became close to each other again, like in the old days.
But unfortunately things changed. One night, Utterson wasn't allowed entry to Jekyll's house. A few days later, he was still refused entry. Poole told him that the doctor had confined himself to the house, and refused to see anyone.
The lawyer left, feeling very bad. He had seen so much of his friend lately. What had changed?
Utterson headed for Dr Lanyon's house. There at least, he was allowed in.
But he was shocked at the sight of Lanyon. He looked near death. Lanyon had once been rosy-faced, but now he was very pale, he had lost a lot of weight. He had also lost hair, and seemed to have aged very quickly. But, worse than this, Utterson noticed a certain look in his eyes: there was real terror, as if Lanyon was very frightened of something.
Utterson thought, "Dear God, he looks near death!"
He told Lanyon that he looked very sick. The doctor replied that he was dying.
"I have had a shock, and I will never recover from it," he told Utterson. "In a few weeks, my life will be at an end." Lanyon saw the sadness in Utterson's face, and he tried to comfort him a bit. The doctor gave a small, tired smile, and said: "It has been a good life, Gabriel. A pleasant one... yes, I liked it."
There was silence for a while. Then Utterson said, "Henry has been ill too. Have you seen him?"
Just hearing Jekyll's name made Lanyon look worse. He held up a trembling hand. "Do not speak of Henry Jekyll anymore, I beg you! I am completely finished with that man, and I think of him as if he were dead."
Utterson was puzzled by the sudden change in Lanyon's attitude towards Jekyll. "Surely there's something I can do to help in all this?" he asked his friend.
"There is nothing you can do. Ask Jekyll yourself, and then you'll see," was Lanyon's answer.
"He refuses to see me," the lawyer responded.
"I'm not surprised!" exclaimed Lanyon, and he continued. "Someday, Gabriel, you may find out the truth. I can't talk about it. But if you cannot avoid the topic of Jekyll, then please go. I cannot stand to speak more of him."
When he got home, Utterson sat at his desk. He sat silent, thinking for a long time. These new, strange events made him feel confused. Eventually, he took out some writing paper. He wrote to Jekyll, complaining of his exclusion from the house. He also asked what had happened between Jekyll and Lanyon.
A reply came the next day.
Jekyll wrote: "I don't blame Lanyon. He is right, we should never meet again. From now on, I plan to live completely on my own, like a hermit. Gabriel, don't think I want to throw away your friendship! But I must shut my door even to you, old friend. Because it is dangerous for you to know me. I did not think there could be so much suffering in life, but it is my destiny. And you can do only one thing, dear friend, to help me: respect my silence."
Utterson was amazed. In a moment, everything was wrecked. How was it possible for things to change so drastically?
What caused it.. .was Jekyll going mad? Yet, in Lanyon's cautious words, and in his looks, there seemed to be something terrible hidden.
Two weeks later, Lanyon died. The night after the funeral, Utterson sat at his desk. The only light in the room came from a single, solitary candle. He pulled out an envelope, on which was written: "PRIVATE - for the eyes of J.G. Utterson ONLY."
Utterson was afraid to open it and wondered if what was inside would be against Jekyll. One friend gone.. .was he about to lose another? Finally, he opened the envelope. Inside was another envelope, marked "not to be opened till the death or disappearance of Henry Jekyll."
Utterson stared, amazed. Once again, the idea of disappearance was associated with Jekyll. First there had been Jekyll's will, stating that Hyde should inherit everything on Jekyll's vanishing. Now, Lanyon's letter. What did it all mean? The lawyer felt tempted to open the second envelope, but finally he decided to be faithful to Lanyon's final request. He locked it away.
From then on, whenever he visited Jekyll, Poole told him that the doctor spent almost all his time in the laboratory, where he would even sleep.
Utterson's visits became fewer and fewer.

A FEW NIGHTS LATER, AS UTTERSON WAS SITTING BY HIS FIREPLACE AFTER DINNER, he was surprised by a visit from Poole. "What brings you here, Poole? Is the doctor ill?" he asked.
"Mr Utterson, something is very wrong!" cried the man. He looked very worried.
"Calm down, Poole! Here, have a seat. Take your time, and tell me what's happened," said Utterson. But he saw how hard it was for Poole to speak.
"What are you afraid of, Poole?" he asked.
"The doctor has shut himself up in the office, in his laboratory.. .I'm afraid..." said Poole.
Again, Utterson asked, "Tell me what you are frightened of."
"F .- a week now... I can't ignore this anymore! ... Sir, I think something terrible ha i iiappened to my master!" Poole exclaimed.
"What do you mean?" wondered Utterson.
"I cannot say here, sir," said Poole. "Will you come back to the house with me?"
Utterson said nothing, but immediately went and put on his hat and coat.
It was a cold night in March. A pale moon was in the sky. The streets seemed empty. Utterson wished there were people about. This would have comforted him; he feared a terrible disaster was about to happen.
When they entered the house, they found the servants sitting close together in the kitchen, afraid. Poole took a candle. "Follow me, sir. But if he asks you in, don't go, sir".
They crossed the yard to Jekyll's office. They stood in front of the door, and Poole whispered to the lawyer to stand still and listen. Hesitantly, fearfully, Poole knocked on the door.
"Mr Utterson to see you sir," he said.
A voice from within shouted: "TELL HIM TO GO AWAY!"
The two men left, returning to the kitchen. "That was not my master's voice, sir! Eight days ago, I heard him cry out for mercy. No, my master is dead, sir. Who is it in there now, I wonder?"
The two men looked at each other, both guessing the answer. "Poole, surely any murderer would have run away immediately!" said Utterson.
"Well, sir, there is an explanation," said Poole. "All this week, whoever is in the office has been calling out for some medicine. Notes were left under the door, asking for this or that chemical. And every time I delivered it, a new note appeared, saying that the chemical was impure, or the wrong one. I have been running all over town, to every chemist shop I can find!"
Utterson asked to look at one of the notes.
"Well, this is certainly Henry Jekyll's writing!" he said.
Poole nodded. "I thought so. But something else is going on. Listen, sir. This is what happened. One day I suddenly came into the laboratory, and there he was, digging among the crates and boxes. His face was like a horrible mask! Suddenly he saw me, cried out, and ran into the office.
If that was my master, why did he run from me? I have been his faithful servant for twenty years!" Poole passed his hand over his face in agony.
Utterson said "This is all very strange, Poole. But I think I can explain it. Dr Jekyll must be sick. This has deformed him, and perhaps affected his voice also. This must be why he is desperately seeking the chemical which will cure him!"
Poole's face turned white with fear. "Sir, the thing I saw was not my master. I know him well now, after all these years. I saw a dwarf, not the tall, strong Dr Jekyll. I'm afraid my master has been murdered!"
"Poole.. .did you possibly recognise the strange figure?" asked Utterson.
"I only saw him for a few seconds," answered the man, "but I would swear it was Edward Hyde. Who else had a key for the laboratory?"
Utterson stared hard at the old servant. "Poole, after all you have said, I know what we must do: we are going to break down the door." Poole eagerly nodded in agreement. He said, "There is an axe in the laboratory."
Utterson then said, "Let's go, Poole. The longer we wait, the harder it becomes."
So, they set off, walking through the back yard towards the laboratory. It was dark. Clouds raced across the moon, and the wind blew their candles around. They crept through the laboratory towards the office door. At the door, they listened.
Poole whispered, "He's walking again. All these days, I heard restless walking all the time."
Utterson had taken his decision. Suddenly he called out loudly "Henry, I demand to see you! Open the door!!"
Silence. "Henry, I know the murderer is in there! Open or we'll break the door down!" threatened the lawyer.
From inside, a voice cried "Gabriel, for God's sake, have mercy!"
Utterson turned to Poole. "That is not Henry Jekyll's voice. Break the door!!"
They smashed their axe against the door, and it began to break. There was a howl, like an animal, from inside.
With a great crash, the half-smashed door fell inwards.
There was a strong smell in the air. In the middle of the room lay the body of a man. He was dressed in clothes too big for him, and he clutched a test tube in his hand.
It was Edward Hyde, and he had killed himself with poison.
They searched everywhere for Dr Jekyll, all through the laboratory, and outside it, but found nothing. They supposed he had run away, or was buried somewhere.
Utterson searched Jekyll's desk. To his amazement, he found a new will. The new inheritor of Henry Jekyll's possessions was now Gabriel John Utterson, not Edward Hyde.
Next, Utterson found a note addressed to him, dated that very day. He thought, "He was alive sometime today, at least!! But what has happened to him?" The note said, 'If you are reading this, something has taken me away from my respectable life. If you have the courage to learn more, first read Lanyon's letter: I know he has left you his confession. Then read mine. Farewell, my friend'.
Under the note was a larger envelope. Utterson turned to the servant. "Poole, don't speak of these things to anyone, please. We will lock the laboratory, and I will call the police after reading these documents," he said, and hurried home to read the two letters.

"On the ninth of January, I received by post an envelope from Henry Jekyll. This was very surprising, as we don't usually write letters to each other. It said:
'My dear Hastie,
You are one of my oldest friends. True, we have differed at times on some scientific questions. But, through all this, we remained loyal friends. At least, this is how I felt. If you ever asked for my help, well, I would sacrifice all for you. Well, old friend, I now need your help, tonight. My life and reputation are in your hands, and if you don't help me, I am lost.
I need you to go as fast as possible to my house. Poole will be waiting for you. Force open the door of my office. A carpenter and a locksmith will be there to help you. Co into my office alone. On the left, you will find a cabinet with drawers. Pull out the one marked 'E'. Inside you will find chemicals. Take the drawer and all contents, back to your house. At midnight, be alone in your drawing-room. A man, my representative, will knock on your door. Give him the drawer, WITHOUT QUESTION!
It may be that, after all this, you will insist on an explanation, from my | representative. You have only to wait five minutes, and you will get it. You II then see how vitally important it was for you to follow EVERY instruction! Hastie, old friend, help me now, PLEASE, in this dark hour of my despair!' ,
After reading this, I wondered if our old friend Henry had gone insane. But I could not be sure; I needed to find out more. The only way to get more information was to obey Henry's desperate instructions.
I went to his house, and all was as he had written: Poole was waiting there, and he sent for the workmen as soon as I arrived. After we forced the door open, I found the drawer, and took it back to my home.
I examined its contents. There was, among other things, a clear, white salt. There was a test-tube, with a blood-coloured liquid in it. Then I found a book, a diary of the results of chemical experiments. Towards the end was written, in large letters, 'TOTAL FAILURE!!!' All this puzzled me even more. Why was the man coming to my house so secretly? How could the contents of the drawer affect Henry's life and reputation? I feared our friend was in serious trouble, and made sure I had a pistol hidden on me. Just after midnight, I heard a gentle knock on my door.
There, crouching in the dark was a small man.
I asked, "Have you been sent by Dr Jekyll?" "Yes," hissed a voice.
He hurried in, and I put my hand lightly on my pistol.
In the light of my room, I could see him more clearly. I had never seen that man before, I was sure of that. No, that shocking face was unforgettable! I stood next to him, and felt deeply disturbed. Most strangely, he wore expensive but badly fitting clothes. The trousers hung down past his ankles, and were rolled up so they would not drag on the ground. The collar of his coat was too wide for his neck. In another man, all this might have looked comical. But in this man, it was disturbing. However, even though I was afraid, I was curious about him.
My visitor now shook with impatience. He laid his hand upon my arm, yelling "Have you got it?! Have you got it?!!" His touch made my blood run cold.
I said, "Sir, calm yourself! I don't yet know your name. Sit down, please". I myself sat down, the way I do when receiving patients. This way, I hoped to make him control himself.
"I beg your pardon, Dr Lanyon, my impatience is making me impolite. Dr Henry Jekyll has asked me to come for a drawer..." he put a hand to his throat, struggling to hold back hysteria. I pitied him, then, and showed him the drawer. He sprang to it, then paused, laying his hand on his heart. I could hear his teeth grate. He showed me a dreadful smile, then pulled off the sheet covering the drawer. He looked eagerly inside as I sat frozen with wonder.
He asked me, "Have you got a measured drinking glass?"
I gave him one, and he smiled, thanking me, his voice now well under control. He mixed the blood-red liquid with others, and the mixture changed to a dark purple, then a watery green.
My visitor had watched these changes closely. Then he smiled and set the glass on a table. He turned and stared at me.
"And now, sir, the wisest thing would be for me to leave without another word. But maybe you want an explanation? I can show you more, if you like, but I will let you decide. But choose carefully, Dr Lanyon. If I leave now, you can forget everything. But if I stay, a new world of knowledge will open before you, amazing but dangerous," he said.
I replied, "Sir, you speak strangely, and I don't understand. But I've seen a lot of strange things so far, and I don't want you to leave now, with so many things left unexplained."
"So be it!" he exclaimed. "Dr Lanyon, you must swear never to speak about this to anyone. Watch now!"
He drank all the mixture down in one gulp. Then he cried out, lost his balance, clutched at the table. His face seemed to swell, go black. Then it changed...
I moved back against the wall, crying out to God for help.
There stood.. .a man, pale and shaking. I couldn't believe my eyes.
There stood.. .Henry Jekyll!
From that terrible moment, my life has been turned upside down. I cannot sleep, can hardly eat. I cannot get that night out of my mind.
I will tell you just one thing that he told me. The creature that crept into my house that night was Edward Hyde."

NEXT WAS HENRY JEKYLL'S LETTER: "I was born into a wealthy family, and have had good health, and a good career. But I often found it hard to obey society's rules of behaviour, and this made some people disapprove of me. I started secretly doing things I enjoyed. This soon led me to living a double life: in one, I had private pleasures; in the other I was the doctor known to all the world, working for the common good. I was not totally happy either way. When I was in one life, I felt guilty about the other. My medical studies made me think: what if there was a way to separate my two different sides? Then each side could go its own way, without worrying about the other.
An idea began to grow in me. Was it possible to achieve this, by using chemicals to change my body? I started experimenting. I knew very well this meant the risk of death. But the hope of success was stronger than my fear. Finally, one night, I drank a certain mixture that boiled and smoked in the glass.
It gave me terrible pain. When the pain subsided, I felt very different, smaller. Much worse, though, I knew I had become a very evil man. I looked into a mirror, and for the first time saw Edward Hyde. I understand now that he was all the bad things in me, in a separate human shape.
I hurried to check if the change could be reversed, and, by drinking more mixture, transformed back to Henry Jekyll.
But I was tempted by my desire to separate my bad side. So, I decided to continue my experiments.
At first, it seemed entertaining. I told my servants Edward Hyde had full access to my house. I set up the house in Soho, where the police tracked Hyde. And I set up my will in his favour.
In the hands of Hyde, my small pleasures became monstrosities. But it was so easy for him to escape! All he had to do was transform into Dr Henry Jekyll, whose reputation was unquestionable.
Whenever I was Henry Jekyll, I felt horrified by what I knew Edward Hyde had done. But I felt the guilt was Hyde's, not Henry Jekyll's. As Henry Jekyll, I was still the good doctor."
Utterson put down the letter, amazed and horrified. He slowly began to understand this strange case. But Henry was wrong to feel no guilt about Hyde's actions, because he and Hyde were actually the same person! He then continued reading:
"Two months before the murder of Sir Danvers, I woke up one morning, with a very strange feeling. I glanced at my hand. It was the hairy hand of Edward Hyde.
I was frozen with terror for minutes, then leaped across the room to the mirror. Yes, something new had happened. I had gone to bed as Jekyll, and awakened as Hyde.
Horrified, I thought about this.
It now seemed that Hyde was becoming stronger and stronger. He was more and more taking control of me. I feared that I might never be able to become Henry Jekyll again.
I thought, it is better to be the good doctor, with his friends around him. Hyde is a lonely creature of the night.
For two months, I kept to this decision. But Hyde's hold on me was too strong, and, in a moment of moral weakness, I drank the mixture again.
Hyde appeared and he was really wild this time.
The murder of Sir Danvers happened in such an unthinking, unfeeling rage. Only afterwards did Hyde stop to think about it. He would be hunted now, every man against him.
He ran to the Soho house and burned everything connected to him. Then he changed back into Jekyll, so that he could hide.
As Jekyll, I fell on my knees, weeping, begging God for forgiveness. Once more, I tried to remain Dr Jekyll. Then, I put all my heart into doing good things for my fellow men. But Hyde always seemed to be there, in the back of my mind.
I had been determined never to let him out again. But he found a way: a way beyond the control of Henry Jekyll!
I was sitting in the park one January day. It was a fine, calm day. I was feeling peaceful, thinking I had overcome Hyde.
Suddenly, I felt a terrible nausea and I think I lost consciousness for some seconds. When I awoke and looked down, I saw the hairy hand of Hyde once more."
Again Utterson put down the letter: Henry had stopped taking the drug, so that he could be only Dr Jekyll. But Hyde was stronger than ever... Actually, he was so strong that he was forcing Henry to transform even when he didn't want to!
"I was now a known murderer. Panic seized me, but then I found the strength to think. The saving mixture was in my house, but how could I get to it? The servants would call the police if they saw me. Could anyone help me? I thought of Lanyon. He hadn't met Hyde before, so I thought of introducing him through a letter from his dear friend, Henry Jekyll.
I covered my face, and got a carriage to a hotel. I wrote two letters, to Poole and Lanyon. I sent them by registered post, to ensure they were received. Then I waited for midnight.
After finishing with Lanyon, I returned home. I awoke weak, but refreshed. But soon after, I was again seized by the terrible nausea and became Hyde. This time, it took a double dose to return me to Jekyll. Six hours later, again I transformed into Hyde.
And this is the pattern of things up to now, Gabriel. Anytime, I might transform into Hyde, and be unable to stop it. I am especially in danger when I sleep.
I live endlessly in fear of Hyde's return. When he is here, he is furious about his restricted life, and seems to grow even stronger. He gets his revenge by writing ugly things in my books, and by burning things.
Now I can't renew my supply of the mixture.
A week has passed, and I have now drunk the last of my potion. When Hyde returns, nothing can send him back.
I don't know what he will do. But I must hurry and complete this letter before he comes back...
As I seal up my confession, it is truly the last of Henry Jekyll."

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