STORYOFTHEDOOR
Mr.
Uttersonthelawyerwasa
mann
manofaruggedcountenancesom
thatwasneverlightedbyasmile;kald
cold,scantyandembarrassedindiscourse;backwardinsentiment;
lean,
lang
long,dusty,drearyandyetsomehowlovable.Atfriendlymeetings,
og
andwhenthewinewastohistaste,noe
somethingeminentlyhumanbeaconedfromhiseye;noe
somethingindeedwhichneverfounditsvei
wayintohistalk,butsom
whichspokenotonlyindisse
thesesilentsymbolsoftheafter-dinneransiktet
face,butmoreoftenandloudlyintheactsofhislivet
life.Hewasausterewithhimself;
drakk
drankginwhenhewasalene
alone,tomortifyatasteforvintages;og
andthoughheenjoyedthetheatre,hadde
hadnotcrossedthedoorsofen
onefortwentyyears.Buthe
hadde
hadanapprovedtoleranceforothers;noen ganger
sometimeswondering,almostwithenvy,atthehøye
highpressureofspiritsinvolvedintheirmisdeeds;og
andinanyextremityinclinedtohjelpe
helpratherthantoreprove.“IinclinetoCain’sheresy,”he
pleide
usedtosayquaintly:“I
la
letmybrothergotothedevilinhisegen
ownway.”Inthischaracter,itwasfrequentlyhisfortunetobethe
siste
lastreputableacquaintanceandthesiste
lastgoodinfluenceinthelivesofdowngoingmen.Og
Andtosuchasthese,solenge
longastheycameabouthischambers,healdri
nevermarkedashadeofendring
changeinhisdemeanour.Nodoubtthefeatwas
lett
easytoMr.Utterson;forhewasundemonstrativeatthe
beste
best,andevenhisfriendshipseemedtobefoundedinen
asimilarcatholicityofgood-nature.Itisthemarkof
en
amodestmantoaccepthisfriendlycircleready-madefromthehandsofopportunity;og
andthatwasthelawyer’småte
way.Hisfriendswerethoseofhis
eget
ownbloodorthosewhomhehadde
hadknownthelongest;hisaffections,
som
likeivy,werethegrowthoftid
time,theyimpliednoaptnessintheobject.Hence,nodoubt
den
thebondthatunitedhimtoMr.RichardEnfield,hisdistantkinsman,den
thewell-knownmanabouttown.Itwas
en
anuttocrackformange
many,whatthesetwocouldse
seeineachother,orwhatsubjecttheykunne
couldfindincommon.ItwasreportedbythosewhoencounteredthemintheirSundaywalks,thatthey
sa
saidnothing,lookedsingularlydullog
andwouldhailwithobviousrelieftheappearanceofen
afriend.Forallthat,the
to
twomenputthegreateststorebydisse
theseexcursions,countedthemthechiefjewelofhver
eachweek,andnotonlysetasideoccasionsofpleasure,men
butevenresistedthecallsofvirksomhet
business,thattheymightenjoythemuninterrupted.Itchancedononeof
disse
theseramblesthattheirwayledthemned
downaby-streetinabusyquarterofLondon.The
gaten
streetwassmallandwhatiscalledrolig
quiet,butitdroveathrivingtradeontheweekdays.Theinhabitantswere
alle
alldoingwell,itseemedog
andallemulouslyhopingtodobedre
betterstill,andlayingoutthesurplusoftheirgrainsincoquetry;sothat
den
theshopfrontsstoodalongthatthoroughfaremed
withanairofinvitation,likerowsofsmilingsaleswomen.Selv
EvenonSunday,whenitveileditsmer
morefloridcharmsandlaycomparativelyemptyofpassage,thegaten
streetshoneoutincontrasttoitsdingyneighbourhood,som
likeafireinaforest;og
andwithitsfreshlypaintedshutters,well-polishedbrasses,og
andgeneralcleanlinessandgaietyofnote,instantlyfanget
caughtandpleasedtheeyeofthepassenger.To
Twodoorsfromonecorner,onthelefthånd
handgoingeastthelinewasbrutt
brokenbytheentryofacourt;og
andjustatthatpointen
acertainsinisterblockofbuildingthrustforwarditsgableonthegaten
street.Itwastwostoreys
høyt
high;showednowindow,nothingbut
en
adooronthelowerstoreyog
andablindforeheadofdiscolouredwallonden
theupper;andboreineveryfeature,themarksofprolonged
og
andsordidnegligence.Thedoor,
som
whichwasequippedwithneitherbellnorknocker,wasblisteredog
anddistained.Trampsslouchedintotherecess
og
andstruckmatchesonthepanels;barn
childrenkeptshopuponthesteps;theschoolboy
hadde
hadtriedhisknifeonthemouldings;og
andforcloseonageneration,ingen
noonehadappearedtodrivebort
awaytheserandomvisitorsortorepairtheirravages.Mr.
Enfield
og
andthelawyerwereonden
theothersideoftheby-street;men
butwhentheycameabreastoftheentry,theformerliftedopp
uphiscaneandpointed.“Didyoueverremarkthatdoor?”
he
spurte
asked;andwhenhiscompanion
hadde
hadrepliedintheaffirmative,“Itisconnectedinmymind,”addedhan
he,“withaveryoddstory.”“Indeed?”
sa
saidMr.Utterson,withaslightendring
changeofvoice,“andwhatwasthat?”“Well,itwas
denne
thisway,”returnedMr.Enfield:“Iwas
kom
cominghomefromsomeplaceattheslutten
endoftheworld,abouttre
threeo’clockofablackwintermorning,og
andmywaylaythroughadel
partoftownwheretherewasliterallynoe
nothingtobeseenbutlamps.Gate
Streetafterstreetandallden
thefolksasleep—streetafterstreet,alle
alllightedupasifforen
aprocessionandallasemptyasen
achurch—tillatlastIkom
gotintothatstateofmindnår
whenamanlistensandlytter
listensandbeginstolongforden
thesightofapoliceman.Allatonce,I
så
sawtwofigures:onea
liten
littlemanwhowasstumpinglangs
alongeastwardatagoodwalk,og
andtheotheragirlofkanskje
maybeeightortenwhowasløp
runningashardasshewasablened
downacrossstreet.Well,
sir
sir,thetworanintooneanothernaturallynok
enoughatthecorner;andthen
kom
camethehorriblepartofden
thething;forthemantrampledcalmly
over
overthechild’sbodyandforlot
leftherscreamingontheground.It
høres
soundsnothingtohear,butitwashellishtose
see.Itwasn’tlikea
mann
man;itwaslikesomedamnedJuggernaut.
Igave
en
afewhalloa,tooktomyheels,collaredmygentleman,og
andbroughthimbacktohvor
wheretherewasalreadyquiteen
agroupaboutthescreamingbarn
child.Hewasperfectlycool
og
andmadenoresistance,butgavemeoneblikk
look,souglythatitbrakte
broughtoutthesweatonmelikeløpe
running.Thepeoplewhohadturned
ut
outwerethegirl’sownfamilie
family;andprettysoon,the
legen
doctor,forwhomshehadbeensendt
sentputinhisappearance.Vel
Well,thechildwasnotmye
muchtheworse,morefrightened,accordingtothesawbones;og
andthereyoumighthavesupposedville
wouldbeanendtoit.Men
Buttherewasonecuriouscircumstance.I
hadde
hadtakenaloathingtomygentlemanatførste
firstsight.Sohadthechild’s
familie
family,whichwasonlynatural.Men
Butthedoctor’scasewaswhatstruckmeg
me.Hewastheusual
kuttet
cutanddryapothecary,ofingen
noparticularageandcolour,med
withastrongEdinburghaccentog
andaboutasemotionalasen
abagpipe.Well,sir,hewas
som
liketherestofus;hver
everytimehelookedatmyprisoner,Iså
sawthatsawbonesturnsickog
andwhitewiththedesiretodrepe
killhim.Iknewwhatwasinhis
sinn
mind,justasheknewwhatwasinmine;og
andkillingbeingoutofthequestion,wegjorde
didthenextbest.We
sa
toldthemanwecouldog
andwouldmakesuchascandalut
outofthisasshouldgjøre
makehisnamestinkfromoneenden
endofLondontotheandre
other.Ifhehadanyfriends
eller
oranycredit,weundertookat
thatheshouldlosethem.Og
Andallthetime,aswewerepitchingitinrødt
redhot,wewerekeepingthewomenoffhimasbestwekunne
couldfortheywereaswildasharpies.I
aldri
neversawacircleofslike
suchhatefulfaces;andtherewasthe
mannen
maninthemiddle,withen
akindofblacksneeringcoolness—frightenedogså
too,Icouldseethat—butcarryingitoff,sir
sir,reallylikeSatan.‘Ifyouchooseto
gjøre
makecapitaloutofthisaccident,’sa
saidhe,‘Iamnaturallyhelpless.Ingen
Nogentlemanbutwishestoavoiden
ascene,’sayshe.‘Nameyourfigure.’
Vel
Well,wescrewedhimuptoahundredpoundsforthechild’sfamilie
family;hewouldhaveclearly
likt
likedtostickout;buttherewas
noe
somethingaboutthelotofusthatbetydde
meantmischief,andatlasthestruck.The
neste
nextthingwastogetthemoney;og
andwheredoyouthinkhecarriedusmen
buttothatplacewiththedoor?—whippedut
outakey,wentin,og
andpresentlycamebackwiththesaken
matteroftenpoundsingoldog
andachequeforthebalanceonCoutts’s,drawnpayabletobearerog
andsignedwithanamethatIcan’tmention,om
thoughit’soneofthepointsofmyhistorie
story,butitwasanavn
nameatleastverywellkjent
knownandoftenprinted.Thefigurewasstiff;
men
butthesignaturewasgoodformer
morethanthatifitwasbare
onlygenuine.Itookthelibertyofpointing
ut
outtomygentlemanthatthehele
wholebusinesslookedapocryphal,andat
thatamandoesnot,inreallife,gå
walkintoacellardooratfire
fourinthemorningandkomme
comeoutwithanotherman’schequefornær
closeuponahundredpounds.Men
Buthewasquiteeasyog
andsneering.‘Setyourmindatrest,’
sier
sayshe,‘Iwillstaywithyoutillthebanksåpner
openandcashthechequemyself.’Sowealle
allsetoff,thedoctor,og
andthechild’sfather,andourvenn
friendandmyself,andpassedtheresten
restofthenightinmychambers;og
andnextday,whenwehadde
hadbreakfasted,wentinabodytothebank.Igaveinthechequemyself,
og
andsaidIhadeverygrunn
reasontobelieveitwasen
aforgery.Notabitof
det
it.Thechequewasgenuine.”
“Tut-tut!”
sa
saidMr.Utterson.“Iseeyou
føler
feelasIdo,”saidMr.Enfield.“Yes,it’s
en
abadstory.Formy
mann
manwasafellowthatingen
nobodycouldhavetodomed
with,areallydamnableman;og
andthepersonthatdrewthechequeistheverypinkoftheproprieties,celebratedogså
too,and(whatmakesitworse)en
oneofyourfellowswhogjør
dowhattheycallgood.Blackmail,Isuppose;
en
anhonestmanpayingthroughthenosefornoen
someofthecapersofhisyouth.BlackMailHouseiswhatI
kaller
calltheplacewiththedøren
door,inconsequence.Thougheven
det
that,youknow,isfarfromexplainingall,”headded,og
andwiththewordsfellintoen
aveinofmusing.From
dette
thishewasrecalledbyMr.Uttersonspør
askingrathersuddenly:“Andyoudon’t
vet
knowifthedrawerofthechequelivesthere?”“Alikely
sted
place,isn’tit?”returnedMr.Enfield.
“ButIhappento
har
havenoticedhisaddress;helivesinsomesquare
eller
orother.”“Andyounever
spurte
askedaboutthe—placewiththedoor?”sa
saidMr.Utterson.“No,sir;
I
hadde
hadadelicacy,”wasthereply.“I
føler
feelverystronglyaboutputtingquestions;itpartakes
for
toomuchofthestyleofthedayofjudgment.You
starte
startaquestion,andit’ssom
likestartingastone.You
sitter
sitquietlyonthetopofen
ahill;andawaythestone
går
goes,startingothers;andpresently
noen
someblandoldbird(thesiste
lastyouwouldhavethoughtof)isknockedonthehodet
headinhisownbackgardenog
andthefamilyhavetoendre
changetheirname.Nosir,I
gjør
makeitaruleofmin
mine:themoreitlooks
som
likeQueerStreet,thelessIask.”“A
veldig
verygoodrule,too,”saidthelawyer.“ButI
har
havestudiedtheplaceformyself,”continuedMr.Enfield.“Itseemsscarcely
et
ahouse.Thereisno
andre
otherdoor,andnobodygoesineller
oroutofthatonemen
but,onceinagreatstund
while,thegentlemanofmyadventure.Det
Therearethreewindowslookingonthecourtontheførste
firstfloor;nonebelow;
thewindowsare
alltid
alwaysshutbutthey’reclean.Og
Andthenthereisachimneysom
whichisgenerallysmoking;so
noen
somebodymustlivethere.And
likevel
yetit’snotsosure;forthebuildingsaresopacked
sammen
togetheraboutthecourt,thatit’svanskelig
hardtosaywhereoneendsog
andanotherbegins.”Thepair
gikk
walkedonagainforastund
whileinsilence;andthen“Enfield,”
sa
saidMr.Utterson,“that’sagod
goodruleofyours.”“Yes,I
tror
thinkitis,”returnedEnfield.“Butfor
alt
allthat,”continuedthelawyer,“there’sen
onepointIwanttospørre
ask.Iwanttoask
den
thenameofthatmanwhogikk
walkedoverthechild.”“Well,”
sa
saidMr.Enfield,“Ican’tse
seewhatharmitwouldgjøre
do.Itwasamanofthe
navn
nameofHyde.”“Hm,”saidMr.Utterson.
“Whatsortofa
mann
manishetosee?”“Heisnot
lett
easytodescribe.Thereis
noe
somethingwrongwithhisappearance;noe
somethingdispleasing,somethingdown-rightdetestable.I
aldri
neversawamanIsodisliked,og
andyetIscarceknowhvorfor
why.Hemustbedeformedsomewhere;
he
gir
givesastrongfeelingofdeformity,althoughIcouldn’tspecifythepoenget
point.He’sanextraordinarylooking
mann
man,andyetIreallykan
cannamenothingoutoftheveien
way.No,sir;
Ican
gjøre
makenohandofit;Ican’tdescribe
ham
him.Andit’snotwantofmemory;
forIdeclareI
kan
canseehimthismoment.”Mr.
Utterson
igjen
againwalkedsomewayinsilenceog
andobviouslyunderaweightofconsideration.“Youare
sikker
sureheusedakey?”heinquiredatlast.
“My
kjære
dearsir...”beganEnfield,surprised
ut
outofhimself.“Yes,Iknow,”
sa
saidUtterson;“Iknowit
må
mustseemstrange.Thefact
er
is,ifIdonotspør
askyouthenameoftheandre
otherparty,itisbecauseIknowitallerede
already.Yousee,Richard,yourtale
har
hasgonehome.Ifyouhavebeeninexactinany
punkt
pointyouhadbettercorrectit.”“I
tror
thinkyoumighthavewarnedme,”returnedden
theotherwithatouchofsullenness.“ButI
har
havebeenpedanticallyexact,asyoukaller
callit.Thefellowhad
en
akey;andwhat’smore,he
har
hasitstill.Isawhim
bruke
useitnotaweekago.”Mr.
Uttersonsigheddeeply
men
butsaidneveraword;og
andtheyoungmanpresentlyresumed.“Hereisanotherlessonto
si
saynothing,”saidhe.“Iamashamedofmylongtongue.
La
Letusmakeabargainaldri
nevertorefertothisagain.”“Withallmyheart,”
sa
saidthelawyer.SEARCHFORMR.HYDE
That
kvelden
eveningMr.Uttersoncamehometohisbachelorhus
houseinsombrespiritsandsatned
downtodinnerwithoutrelish.ItwashiscustomofaSunday,
når
whenthismealwasover,tositte
sitclosebythefire,avolumeofnoen
somedrydivinityonhisreadingdesk,untiltheclockoftheneighbouringchurchrangut
outthehouroftwelve,når
whenhewouldgosoberlyog
andgratefullytobed.On
denne
thisnighthowever,assoonastheclothwastakenbort
away,hetookupacandleog
andwentintohisbusinessroom.Therehe
åpnet
openedhissafe,tookfromthemest
mostprivatepartofitadocumentendorsedontheenvelopeasDr.Jekyll’sWillog
andsatdownwithacloudedbrowtostudyitscontents.Thewillwasholograph,forMr.Utterson
om
thoughhetookchargeofitnå
nowthatitwasmade,hadde
hadrefusedtolendtheleastassistanceinthemakingofit;itprovidednot
bare
onlythat,incaseofthedeceaseofHenryJekyll,M.D.,D.C.L.,L.L.D.,F.R.S.,etc.,allhispossessionsweretopassintothehandsofhis“friendog
andbenefactorEdwardHyde,”butthatintilfelle
caseofDr.Jekyll’s“disappearanceeller
orunexplainedabsenceforanyperiodexceedingtre
threecalendarmonths,”thesaidEdwardHydeskulle
shouldstepintothesaidHenryJekyll’sshoesuten
withoutfurtherdelayandfreefromanyburtheneller
orobligationbeyondthepaymentofen
afewsmallsumstothemembersofthedoctor’shousehold.Dette
Thisdocumenthadlongbeenthelawyer’seyesore.Itoffendedhim
både
bothasalawyerandasen
aloverofthesaneog
andcustomarysidesoflife,towhomthefancifulwastheimmodest.Og
AndhithertoitwashisignoranceofMr.Hydethathadde
hadswelledhisindignation;now,by
en
asuddenturn,itwashisknowledge.Itwas
allerede
alreadybadenoughwhenthenamewasmen
butanameofwhichhekunne
couldlearnnomore.Itwasworse
når
whenitbegantobeclotheduponmed
withdetestableattributes;andoutoftheshifting,insubstantialmists
som
thathadsolongbaffledhiseye,der
thereleapedupthesudden,definitepresentmentofen
afiend.“Ithoughtitwasmadness,”he
sa
said,ashereplacedtheobnoxiouspaperinthesafe,“andnå
nowIbegintofearitisdisgrace.”Med
Withthatheblewouthiscandle,satte
putonagreatcoat,andsatte
setforthinthedirectionofCavendishSquare,thatcitadelofmedicine,hvor
wherehisfriend,thegreatDr.Lanyon,hadde
hadhishouseandreceivedhiscrowdingpatients.“If
noen
anyoneknows,itwillbeLanyon,”hehadde
hadthought.Thesolemnbutler
kjente
knewandwelcomedhim;