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Doctor Jekyll receives a letter

Later that same afternoon Mr Utterson found his way

to Doctor Jekyll’s house. Jekyll’s servant, Poole, let him in at once and took him through the kitchen and across the back garden to the laboratory behind the house. It was the first time that Mr Utterson had seen his friend’s laboratory, and he looked around curiously.

The old servant led Mr Utterson through the laboratory and up some stairs to the doctor’s private study above. This was a large room with tall, glass-fronted cupboards, a large mirror and a big, businesslike table. A good fire burned in the fireplace and beside it sat Doctor Jekyll, looking white and ill. In a thin, tired voice he welcomed his friend.

‘Have you heard the news?’ said Mr Utterson after the old servant had left.

‘The newsboys were shouting about it in the street,’ Doctor Jekyll said. ‘A terrible business.’

‘Let me ask you something,’ said the lawyer. ‘Sir Danvers Carew was my client, but you are my client too, and I want to know what I’m doing. You haven’t tried to hide the murderer, have you?’ ‘Utterson, I promise you,’ cried the doctor, ‘I promise you I’ll never see him again. I’ve finished with him for ever. And now, indeed, he no longer needs my help. You don’t know him like I do. He’s safe, quite safe. Believe me, nobody will ever hear of Hyde again.’ The lawyer listened with a serious face. He did not like his friend’s feverish, excited look.

‘You seem very sure of him,’ he replied. ‘I hope you’re right. If he is caught and comes to trial, your name may be mentioned.’ ‘I’m absolutely sure of him,’ answered Jekyll. ‘I can’t tell you how I know, but I’m certain. But can you please advise me about one thing? I’ve received a letter and I don’t know whether to show it to the police. May I leave it in your hands, Utterson?’ ‘You’re afraid, I suppose, that the letter will lead the police to Hyde?’ asked the lawyer.

‘No,’ said Doctor Jekyll. ‘I don’t care what happens to Hyde. I was thinking of my own reputation . . . Anyway, here is the letter.’ It was written in a strange, pointed handwriting and signed ‘Edward Hyde’. ‘I am sorry that I have been so ungrateful in the past for your many generous acts,’ it began. ‘Please don’t worry about me. I am quite safe and I am Certain that I can escape unharmed whenever I wish.’ ‘Did this letter come by post?’ asked the lawyer.

‘No,’ replied Doctor Jekyl ‘There was no postmark on the envelope. The letter can’t by hand.’

‘Shall I keep the letter and think about it?’ asked Mr Utterson.

‘I want you to decide for rrte,’ answered his client. ‘I’m not sure of anything any more.’

‘Very well,’ said the lawyer. ‘Now tell me - the part in your will about disappearing for three months or more. Was that Hyde’s idea?’ ‘It was,’ whispered Doctor Jekyll.

‘He was planning to murder you,’ said the lawyer. ‘You’ve had a lucky escape.’

‘I’ve had a lesson too,’ said his client, in pain and sadness. ‘Oh, what a lesson!’ And he covered his face with his hands. ‘

On his way out of the house, the lawyer stopped and spoke to Poole.

‘By the way,’ he said, ‘a letter was handed in today for your master. Who brought it, and what did he look like?’ ‘Nobody came except the postman, sir,’ said the servant in surprise.

‘That worries me,’ thought Mr Utterson as he walked home. ‘Clearly the letter arrived by the laboratory door; perhaps it was even written in the study. I must think about this carefully.’ In the street the newsboys were still shouting, ‘Read all about it! Terrible murder!’

The lawyer’s thoughts were sad. One of his clients was dead, and the life and reputation of another were in danger. Mr Utterson did not usually ask anyone for advice. Today, however, was different.

That evening he sat by his fireside with his chief clerk, Mr Guest, beside him. The lawyer and his clerk had worked together for many years, and knew and under¬stood each other. Also, Mr Guest had been involved in business with Doctor Jekyll and knew him well.

Outside it was foggy and dark, but the room was bright and warm and there was a bottle of good whisky on the table.

‘This is a sad business about Sir Danvers Carew,’ said Mr Utterson.

‘Yes indeed, sir. The murderer was a madman, of course.’

‘I would like your opinion about that,’ replied the lawyer. ‘I have a letter from the murderer here.’

Mr Guest was interested in the study of handwriting. His eyes brightened at once. ‘A murderer’s letter!’ he said. ‘That will be interesting.’ He looked carefully at the

writing. ‘Not a madman, I think,’ he said. ‘But what unusual handwriting!’

Just then a servant entered with a note.

‘Is that note from Doctor Jekyll?’ asked Mr Guest. ‘I thought I recognized the handwriting. Is it anything private, Mr Utterson?’ ‘Only an invitation to dinner. Why? Do you want to see the letter?’

‘Just for a moment, please, sir.’ The clerk put the two letters side by side and studied them carefully. ‘Thank you, sir,’ he said. ‘Very interesting.’ For a moment Mr Utterson hesitated, wondering and worrying. At last he put his thoughts into words. ‘Why did you look at the two letters together?’ he asked.

‘Well, sir, in many ways the two are surprisingly similar.’

‘How strange! . . . Mr Guest, I must ask you not to speak of this business to anyone.’

‘Of course not, sir,’ said the clerk. ‘You can depend on me.’ Shortly afterwards he said good night to his master and made his way home.

When he was alone, Mr Utterson locked the two letters in his cupboard. ‘Well!’ he thought. ‘So Henry Jekyll wrote that letter for a murderer!’ His face was as calm and expressionless as usual, but his heart was filled with fear for his old friend.