STORYOFTHEDOOR
Mr.
Uttersonthelawyerwasamanofaruggedcountenancethatwasneverlightedbya
smil
smile;cold,scantyandembarrassedindiscourse;
backwardinsentiment;
lean,long,dusty,drearyandyetsomehowlovable.
Atfriendlymeetings,andwhenthe
vinen
winewastohistaste,somethingeminentlyhumanbeaconedfromhisøye
eye;somethingindeedwhichneverfounditswayintohistalk,butwhichspokenotonlyinthesesilentsymbolsoftheafter-dinnerface,butmoreoftenandloudlyintheactsofhislife.
Hewasausterewithhimself;
drankginwhenhewasalone,tomortifya
smak
tasteforvintages;andthoughheenjoyedthetheatre,hadnot
krysset
crossedthedoorsofonefortwentyyears.Buthehadanapprovedtoleranceforothers;
sometimes
undrer
wondering,almostwithenvy,atthehighpressureofspiritsinvolvert
involvedintheirmisdeeds;andinanyextremityinclinedtohelp
snarere
ratherthantoreprove.“IinclinetoCain’sheresy,”heusedtosayquaintly:
“Iletmybrothergotothedevilinhisownway.”
Inthischaracter,itwasfrequentlyhisfortunetobethelastreputableacquaintanceandthelastgoodinfluenceinthelivesofdowngoingmen.
Andtosuchasthese,solongastheycameabouthischambers,henever
merket
markedashadeofchangeinhisdemeanour.No
tvil
doubtthefeatwaseasytoMr.Utterson;forhewasundemonstrativeatthebest,andevenhisfriendship
syntes
seemedtobefoundedinasimilarcatholicityofgood-nature.Itisthe
merket
markofamodestmantoakseptere
accepthisfriendlycircleready-madefromthehandsofopportunity;andthatwasthelawyer’sway.
Hisfriendswerethoseofhisownbloodorthosewhomhehadknownthelongest;
hisaffections,likeivy,werethegrowthoftime,theyimpliednoaptnessintheobject.
Hence,no
tvil
doubtthebondthatunitedhimtoMr.RichardEnfield,hisdistantkinsman,thewell-knownmanabouttown.Itwasanuttocrackformany,whatthesetwocouldseeineachother,orwhatsubjecttheycouldfindincommon.
Itwas
rapportert
reportedbythosewhoencounteredthemintheirSundaywalks,thattheysaidnothing,lookedsingularlydullandwouldhailwithobviousrelieftheappearanceofafriend.Forallthat,thetwomenputthegreatest
butikken
storebytheseexcursions,countedthemthechiefjewelofeachweek,andnotonlysetasideoccasionsoffornøyelse
pleasure,butevenresistedthecallsofbusiness,thattheymightnyte
enjoythemuninterrupted.Itchancedononeoftheseramblesthattheirway
ledet
ledthemdownaby-streetinabusyquarterofLondon.Thestreetwassmallandwhatiscalledquiet,butitdroveathrivingtradeontheweekdays.
Theinhabitantswerealldoingwell,it
virket
seemedandallemulouslyhopingtodobetterstill,andlegge
layingoutthesurplusoftheirgrainsincoquetry;sothattheshopfrontsstoodalongthatthoroughfarewithanairofinvitation,likerowsofsmilingsaleswomen.
EvenonSunday,whenitveileditsmorefloridcharmsandlaycomparatively
tom
emptyofpassage,thestreetshoneoutincontrasttoitsdingyneighbourhood,likeafireinaforest;andwithitsfreshlypaintedshutters,well-polishedbrasses,andgeneralcleanlinessandgaietyofnote,instantlycaughtandpleasedthe
øyet
eyeofthepassenger.Twodoorsfromonecorner,onthelefthandgoing
øst
eastthelinewasbrokenbytheentryofadomstol
court;andjustatthatpointacertainsinisterblockof
bygning
buildingthrustforwarditsgableonthestreet.Itwastwostoreyshigh;
showedno
vindu
window,nothingbutadooronthelowerstoreyandablind
blindforeheadofdiscolouredwallontheupper;and
bar
boreineveryfeature,themarksofprolongedandsordidnegligence.Thedoor,whichwasequippedwith
verken
neitherbellnorknocker,wasblisteredanddistained.Trampsslouchedintotherecessandstruck
matcher
matchesonthepanels;childrenkept
butikk
shopuponthesteps;theschoolboyhadtriedhisknifeonthemouldings;
andforcloseonageneration,noonehadappearedtodriveawaytheserandomvisitorsortorepairtheirravages.
Mr.
Enfieldandthelawyerwereontheothersideoftheby-street;
butwhentheycameabreastoftheentry,theformerlifteduphiscaneandpointed.
“Didyoueverremarkthatdoor?”
heasked;
andwhenhiscompanionhadrepliedintheaffirmative,“Itisconnectedinmymind,”addedhe,“withaveryoddstory.”
“Indeed?”
saidMr.Utterson,withaslightchangeofvoice,“andwhatwasthat?”
“Well,itwasthisway,”returnedMr.Enfield:
“Iwascominghomefromsomeplaceattheendoftheworld,aboutthreeo’clockofablackwintermorning,andmywaylaythroughapartoftownwheretherewasliterallynothingtobeseenbutlamps.
Streetafterstreetandallthefolksasleep—streetafterstreet,alllightedupasifforaprocessionandallas
tom
emptyasachurch—tillatlastIgotintothatstateofmindwhenamanlistensandlistensandbegynner
beginstolongforthesightofapoliceman.Allatonce,Isawtwofigures:
onealittlemanwhowasstumpingalongeastwardatagoodwalk,andtheotheragirlofmaybe
åtte
eightortenwhowasrunningashardasshewasabledownakrysset
crossstreet.Well,sir,thetworanintooneanothernaturallyenoughatthecorner;
andthencamethehorriblepartofthething;
forthemantrampledcalmlyoverthechild’sbodyandleftherscreamingonthe
bakken
ground.Itsoundsnothingtohear,butitwashellishtosee.
Itwasn’tlikeaman;
itwaslikesomedamnedJuggernaut.
Igaveafewhalloa,tooktomyheels,collaredmygentleman,andbroughthimbacktowheretherewasalreadyquitea
gruppe
groupaboutthescreamingchild.Hewasperfectlycoolandmadenoresistance,butgavemeonelook,so
stygt
uglythatitbroughtoutthesweatonmelikerunning.Thepeoplewhohadturnedoutwerethegirl’sownfamily;
andprettysoon,thedoctor,forwhomshehadbeensentputinhisappearance.
Well,thechildwasnotmuchthe
verre
worse,morefrightened,accordingtothesawbones;andthereyoumighthave
antatt
supposedwouldbeanendtoit.Buttherewasonecuriouscircumstance.
Ihadtakenaloathingtomygentlemanatfirstsight.
Sohadthechild’sfamily,whichwasonlynatural.
Butthedoctor’scasewaswhatstruckme.
Hewastheusualcutanddryapothecary,ofnoparticular
alder
ageandcolour,withasterk
strongEdinburghaccentandaboutasemotionalasabagpipe.Well,sir,hewasliketherestofus;
everytimehelookedatmyprisoner,Isawthatsawbonesturnsickandwhitewiththedesiretokillhim.
Iknewwhatwasinhismind,justasheknewwhatwasinmine;
andkillingbeingoutofthequestion,wedidthenextbest.
WetoldthemanwecouldandwouldmakesuchascandaloutofthisasshouldmakehisnamestinkfromoneendofLondontotheother.
Ifhehadanyfriendsoranycredit,weundertookthatheshouldlosethem.
Andallthetime,aswewerepitchingitinredhot,wewerekeepingthewomenoffhimasbestwecouldfortheywereaswildasharpies.
Ineversawacircleofsuchhatefulfaces;
andtherewasthemaninthe
midten
middle,withakindofblacksneeringcoolness—frightenedtoo,Icouldseethat—butbære
carryingitoff,sir,reallylikeSatan.‘Ifyou
velger
choosetomakecapitaloutofthisaccident,’saidhe,‘Iamnaturallyhelpless.Nogentlemanbutwishestoavoidascene,’sayshe.
‘Nameyourfigure.’Well,we
skru
screwedhimuptoahundre
hundredpoundsforthechild’sfamily;hewouldhaveclearlylikedto
stikke
stickout;buttherewassomethingaboutthelotofusthatmeantmischief,andatlasthestruck.
Thenextthingwastogetthemoney;
andwheredoyouthinkhe
bar
carriedusbuttothatplacewiththedoor?—whippedoutanøkkel
key,wentin,andpresentlycamebackwiththematteroftenpoundsingull
goldandachequeforthebalanceonCoutts’s,drawnpayabletobearerandsignedwithanamethatIcan’tnevne
mention,thoughit’soneofthepointsofmystory,butitwasanameatleastverywellknownandofte
oftenprinted.Thefigurewasstiff;
butthesignaturewasgoodformorethanthatifitwasonlygenuine.
Itookthelibertyofpointingouttomygentlemanthatthewholebusinesslookedapocryphal,andthatamandoesnot,inreallife,walkintoacellardooratfourinthemorningandcomeoutwithanotherman’schequeforcloseupona
hundre
hundredpounds.Buthewasquiteeasyandsneering.
‘Setyourmindatrest,’sayshe,‘Iwillstaywithyoutillthebanksopenandcashthechequemyself.’Soweallsetoff,thedoctor,andthechild’sfather,andourfriendandmyself,andpassedtherestofthenightinmychambers;
andnextday,whenwehadbreakfasted,wentinabodytothe
banken
bank.Igaveinthechequemyself,andsaidIhadeveryreasontobelieveitwasaforgery.
Notabitofit.
Thechequewasgenuine.”
“Tut-tut!”
saidMr.Utterson.
“IseeyoufeelasIdo,”saidMr.Enfield.
“Yes,it’sabadstory.
Formymanwasafellowthatnobodycouldhavetodowith,areallydamnableman;
andthepersonthatdrewthechequeistheverypinkoftheproprieties,celebratedtoo,and(whatmakesitworse)oneofyourfellowswhodowhattheycallgood.
Blackmail,I
antar
suppose;anhonestmanpayingthroughthe
nesen
noseforsomeofthecapersofhisyouth.BlackMailHouseiswhatIcalltheplacewiththedoor,inconsequence.
Thougheventhat,youknow,isfarfrom
forklare
explainingall,”headded,andwiththewordsfellintoaveinofmusing.FromthishewasrecalledbyMr.Uttersonasking
ganske
rathersuddenly:“Andyoudon’tknowifthedrawerofthechequelivesthere?”
“Alikelyplace,isn’tit?”
returnedMr.Enfield.
“ButIhappentohave
merke
noticedhisaddress;helivesinsomesquareorother.”
“Andyouneveraskedaboutthe—placewiththedoor?”
saidMr.Utterson.
“No,sir;
Ihadadelicacy,”wasthereply.
“Ifeelverystronglyaboutputtingquestions;
itpartakestoomuchofthestyleofthedayofjudgment.
Youstartaquestion,andit’slikestartingastone.
Yousitquietlyonthetopofahill;
andawaythestonegoes,startingothers;
andpresentlysomeblandoldbird(thelastyouwouldhavethoughtof)is
banket
knockedontheheadinhisownbackgardenandthefamilyhavetochangetheirname.Nosir,Imakeita
regel
ruleofmine:themoreitlookslikeQueerStreet,the
mindre
lessIask.”“Averygood
regel
rule,too,”saidthelawyer.“ButIhavestudiedtheplaceformyself,”
fortsatte
continuedMr.Enfield.“Itseemsscarcelyahouse.
Thereisnootherdoor,andnobodygoesinoroutofthatonebut,onceinagreatwhile,thegentlemanofmyadventure.
Therearethreewindowslookingonthecourtonthefirst
etasje
floor;nonebelow;
thewindowsarealwaysshutbutthey’re
rene
clean.Andthenthereisachimneywhichisgenerallysmoking;
sosomebodymustlivethere.
Andyetit’snotsosure;
forthebuildingsaresopackedtogetheraboutthe
retten
court,thatit’shardtosaywhereoneendsandanotherbegins.”Thepairwalkedonagainforawhileinsilence;
andthen“Enfield,”saidMr.Utterson,“that’sagood
regel
ruleofyours.”“Yes,Ithinkitis,”returnedEnfield.
“Butforallthat,”
fortsatte
continuedthelawyer,“there’sonepointIwanttoask.Iwanttoaskthenameofthatmanwhowalkedoverthechild.”
“Well,”saidMr.Enfield,“Ican’tseewhatharmitwoulddo.
ItwasamanofthenameofHyde.”
“Hm,”saidMr.Utterson.
“Whatsortofamanishetosee?”
“Heisnoteasytodescribe.
Thereissomethingwrongwithhisappearance;
somethingdispleasing,somethingdown-rightdetestable.
IneversawamanIsodisliked,andyetIscarceknowwhy.
Hemustbedeformedsomewhere;
hegivesa
sterk
strongfeelingofdeformity,althoughIcouldn’tspecifythepoint.He’sanextraordinarylookingman,andyetIreallycannamenothingoutoftheway.
No,sir;
Icanmakenohandofit;
Ican’tdescribehim.
Andit’snotwantof
minne
memory;forIdeclareIcanseehimthismoment.”
Mr.
Uttersonagainwalkedsomewayinsilenceand
åpenbart
obviouslyunderaweightofconsideration.“Youaresureheusedakey?”
heinquiredatlast.
“Mydearsir...”
begynte
beganEnfield,surprisedoutofhimself.“Yes,Iknow,”saidUtterson;
“Iknowitmust
virke
seemstrange.Thefactis,ifIdonotaskyouthenameoftheotherparty,itisbecauseIknowitalready.
Yousee,Richard,yourtalehasgonehome.
Ifyouhavebeeninexactinanypointyouhadbettercorrectit.”
“Ithinkyoumighthavewarnedme,”returnedtheotherwithatouchofsullenness.
“ButIhavebeenpedanticallyexact,asyoucallit.
Thefellowhada
nøkkel
key;andwhat’smore,hehasitstill.
Isawhimuseitnotaweekago.”
Mr.
Uttersonsigheddeeplybutsaidneveraword;
andtheyoungmanpresentlyresumed.
“Hereisanotherlessontosaynothing,”saidhe.
“Iamashamedofmylongtongue.
Letusmakeabargainnevertorefertothisagain.”
“Withallmyheart,”saidthelawyer.
Søk
SEARCHFORMR.HYDEThat
kvelden
eveningMr.Uttersoncamehometohisbachelorhouseinsombrespiritsandsatdowntodinnerwithoutrelish.ItwashiscustomofaSunday,whenthismealwasover,tositclosebythefire,avolumeofsomedrydivinityonhisreadingdesk,untiltheclockoftheneighbouringchurchrangoutthehouroftwelve,whenhewouldgosoberlyandgratefullytobed.
Onthisnight
imidlertid
however,assoonastheclothwastakenaway,hetookupacandleandwentintohisbusinessroom.Thereheopenedhissafe,tookfromthemostprivatepartofitadocumentendorsedontheenvelopeasDr.Jekyll’sWillandsatdownwithacloudedbrowto
studere
studyitscontents.Thewillwasholograph,forMr.Uttersonthoughhetookchargeofitnowthatitwasmade,hadrefusedtolendtheleastassistanceinthemakingofit;
itprovidednotonlythat,incaseofthedeceaseofHenryJekyll,M.D.,D.C.L.,L.L.D.,F.R.S.,etc.,allhispossessionsweretopassintothehandsofhis“friendandbenefactorEdwardHyde,”butthatincaseofDr.Jekyll’s“disappearanceorunexplainedabsenceforanyperiodexceedingthreecalendarmonths,”thesaidEdwardHydeshouldstepintothesaidHenryJekyll’s
sko
shoeswithoutfurtherdelayandfreefromanyburthenorobligationbeyondthepaymentofafewsmallsumstothemembersofthedoctor’shousehold.Thisdocumenthadlongbeenthelawyer’seyesore.
Itoffendedhimbothasa
advokat
lawyerandasaloverofthesaneandcustomarysidesoflife,towhomthefancifulwastheimmodest.AndhithertoitwashisignoranceofMr.Hydethathadswelledhisindignation;
now,byasuddenturn,itwashisknowledge.
Itwasalreadybadenoughwhenthenamewasbutanameofwhichhecouldlearnnomore.
Itwas
verre
worsewhenitbegantobeclotheduponwithdetestableattributes;andoutoftheshifting,insubstantialmiststhathadsolongbaffledhis
øyet
eye,thereleapedupthesudden,definitepresentmentofafiend.“Ithoughtitwasmadness,”hesaid,ashereplacedtheobnoxiouspaperinthesafe,“andnowI
begynner
begintofearitisdisgrace.”Withthatheblewouthiscandle,putonagreatcoat,andsetforthinthedirectionofCavendishSquare,thatcitadelofmedicine,wherehisfriend,thegreatDr.Lanyon,hadhishouseandreceivedhiscrowdingpatients.
“Ifanyoneknows,itwillbeLanyon,”hehadthought.
Thesolemnbutlerknewandwelcomedhim;