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have been thinking of the will?” But he kept his feelings to himself and only grunted in acknowledgment of the address.

      “And now,” said the other, “how did you know me?”

      “By description,” was the reply.

      “Whose description?”

      “We have common friends,” said Mr. Utterson.

      “Common friends?” echoed Mr. Hyde, a little hoarsely. “Who are they?”

      “Jekyll, for instance,” said the lawyer.

      “He never told you,” cried Mr. Hyde, with a flush of anger. “I did not think you would have lied.”

      “Come,” said Mr. Utterson, “that is not fitting language.”

      The other snarled aloud into a savage laugh; and the next moment, with extraordinary quickness, he had unlocked the door and disappeared into the house.

      The lawyer stood a while when Mr. Hyde had left him, the picture of disquietude. Then he began slowly to mount the street, pausing every step or two and putting his hand to his brow like a man in mental perplexity. The problem he was thus debating as he walked, was one of a class that is rarely solved. Mr. Hyde was pale and dwarfish, he gave an impression of deformity without any nameable malformation, he had a displeasing smile, he had borne himself to the lawyer with a sort of murderous mixture of timidity and boldness, and he spoke with a husky, whispering and somewhat broken voice; all these were points against him, but not all of these together could explain the hitherto unknown disgust, loathing, and fear with which Mr. Utterson regarded him. “There must be something else,” said the perplexed gentleman. “There is something more, if I could find a name for it. God bless me, the man seems hardly human! Something troglodytic,5 shall we say? or can it be the old story of Dr. Fell? Or is it the mere radiance of a foul soul that thus transpires through, and transfigures, its clay continent? The last, I think; for, O my poor old Harry Jekyll, if ever I read Satan’s signature upon a face, it is on that of your new friend.”

      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 fan-light, Mr. Utterson stopped and knocked. A well-dressed, elderly servant opened the door.

      “Is Dr. Jekyll at home, Poole?” asked the lawyer.

      “I will see, Mr. Utterson,” said Poole, admitting the visitor, 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?”

      “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 to-night 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.

      “I saw Mr. Hyde go in by the old dissecting-room door, Poole,” he said. “Is that right, when Dr. Jekyll is from home?”

      “Quite right, Mr. Utterson, sir,” replied the servant. “Mr. Hyde has a key.”

      “Your master seems to repose a great deal of trust in that young man, Poole,” resumed the other musingly.

      “Yes, sir, he do indeed,” said Poole. “We have all orders to obey him.”

      “I do not think I ever met Mr. Hyde?” asked Utterson.

      “O, dear no, sir. He never dines 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.”

      “Well, good-night, Poole.”

      “Good-night, Mr. Utterson.”

      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, pede claudo,6 years after memory has forgotten and self-love condoned the fault.” And the lawyer, scared by the thought, brooded a while on his own past, groping in all the corners of memory, lest 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 that 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 shoulder 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 a transparency, the strange clauses of the will.

      Henry Cavendish — (10 October 1731 – 24 February 1810) was a British philosopher, scientist, and experimental and theoretical chemist and physicist.

      balderdash — senseless talk or writing; nonsense.

      Damon and Pythias — In Greek mythology, when Pythias was sentenced to be executed Damon took his place to allow Pythias to get his affairs in order; when Pythias returned in time to save Damon the king was so impressed that he let them both live.

      protégé — One whose welfare, training, or career is promoted by an influential person. (fr.)

      troglodytic — a member of a fabulous or prehistoric race of people that lived in caves, dens, or holes, or a person considered to be reclusive, reactionary, out of date, or brutish.

      pede claudo — from the Roman poet Horace Pede poena claudo (Horace Odes 3.2.32). It means “punishment comes limping” and is often rendered as meaning “retribution comes slowly but surely.”

      III

      Dr. Jekyll Was Quite at Ease

      A fortnight later, by excellent good fortune, the doctor gave one of his pleasant dinners to some five or six old cronies,1 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 the 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 gaiety. 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 slyish cast perhaps, but every mark of capacity and kindness — you could see by his looks that he cherished for Mr. Utterson a sincere and warm affection.

      “I have been wanting to speak to you, Jekyll,” began the latter. “You know that

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