The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde — A Dark Tale - Chapter 01 to 03

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde by
Robert Louis Stephenson, Chapters one to three. Chapter one, Story
of the Door. Mister Utterson, the Lawyer was a man

(00:20):
of rugged countenance that was never lighted by a smile, cold, scanty,
and embarrassed in discourse, backward in sentiment, lean, long, dusty, dreary,
and yet somehow lovable at friendly meetings, and when the
wine was to his taste, something eminently human beaconed from

(00:45):
his eye, something indeed, which never found its way into
his talk, but which spoke not only in the silent
symbols of the after dinner face, but more often and
loudly in the acts of his life. He was austere
with himself, drank gin when he was alone to mortify,

(01:07):
a taste for vintages, and though he enjoyed the theater,
had not crossed the doors of one for twenty years.
But he had an approved tolerance for others, sometimes wandering
almost with envy at the high pressure of spirits involved
in their misdeeds, and in any extremity inclined to help

(01:30):
rather than to reprove I incline to Cain's heresy, he
used to say quaintly, I let my brother go to
the devil in his own way. In this character, it
was frequently his fortune to be the last reputable acquaintance
and the last good influence in the lives of down

(01:52):
going men. And to such as these, so long as
they came about his chambers, he never mark to shade
of change in his demeanor. No doubt, the feat was
easy to mister Otterson, for he was undemonstrative at the best,
and even his friendships seemed to be founded in a
similar catholicity of good nature. It is the mark of

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a modest man to accept his friendly circle ready made
from the hands of opportunity, and that was the lawyer's way.
His friends were those of his own blood, or those
whom he had known the longest. His affections, like ivy,
were the growth of time. They implied no aptness in

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the object. Hence, no doubt the bond that united him
to mister Richard Enfield, his distant kinsman, the well known
man about town. It was a not to crack for
many what these two could see in each other, or
what subject they could find in common. It was reported
by those who encountered them in their son get walks,

(03:01):
that they said, nothing looked singularly dull, and would hail
with obvious relief the appearance of a friend. For all
that the two men put the greatest store by these
excursions counted them the chief jewel of each week, and
not only set aside occasions of pleasure, but even resisted

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the cause of business, that they might enjoy them uninterrupted.
It chanced on one of these rambles that their way
led them down a by street in a busy quarter
of London. The street was small and what is called quiet,
but it drove a thriving trade on the weekdays. The

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inhabitants were all doing well, it seemed, and all emulously
hoping to do better still, and laying out the surplus
of their gains in coquetry, so that the shop fronts
stood along that thoroughfare with an air of invitation, like
rows of smiling sales women. Even on Sunday, when it
veiled its more florid charms and lay comparatively empty of passage,

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the street shone out in contrast to its dingy neighborhood,
like a fire in a forest, and with its freshly
painted shutters, well polished brasses and general cleanliness and gaiety
of note instantly caught and pleased the eye of the passenger.
Two doors from one corner on the left hand, going east,

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the line was broken by the entry of a court,
and just at that point a certain sinister block of
building thrust forward its gable on the street. It was
two stories high, showed no window, nothing but a door
on the lower story, and a blind forehead of discolored
wall on the upper, and bore in every feature the

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marks of prolonged and sordid negligence. The door, which was
equipped with neither bell nor knocker, was blistered and disdained.
Tramps slouched into the recess and struck matches on the panels.
Children kept shop upon the steps. The schoolboy had tried

(05:16):
his knife on the moldings, and for close on a
generation no one had appeared to drive away these random
visitors or to repair their ravages. Mister Enfield and the
lawyer were on the other side of the by street,
But when they came abreast of the entry, the former
lifted up his cane and pointed, did you ever remark

(05:40):
that door? He asked, And when his companion had replied,
in the affirmative. It is connected in my mind, added
he with a very odd story. Indeed, said mister Utterson,
with a slight change of voice. And what was that, Well,

(06:00):
it was this way, returned mister Enfield. I was coming
home from some place at the end of the world,
about three o'clock of a black winter morning, and my
way lay through a part of town where there was
literally nothing to be seen but lamps, street after street,
and all the folks asleep, street after street, all lighted

(06:23):
up as if for a procession, and all as empty
as a church. Till at last I got into that
state of mind when a man listens and listens and
begins to long for the sight of a policeman. All
at once I saw two figures, one a little man
who was stomping along eastward at a good walk, and

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the other a girl of maybe eight or ten, who
was running as hard as she was able down across street. Well, sir,
the two ran into one another naturally enough at the corner,
and then came the horrible part of the thing, for
the man trampled calmly over the girl's body and left

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her screaming on the ground. It sounds nothing to hear
but it was hellish to see. It wasn't like a man,
it was like some damned juggernaut. I gave a view Hallo,
took to my heels, collared my gentleman, and brought him
back to where there was already quite a group about
the screaming child. He was perfectly cool and made no resistance,

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but gave me one look so ugly that it brought
out the sweat on me, like running the people who
turned out with a girl's own family, and pretty soon
the doctor for whom she had been sent put in
his appearance. Well, the child was not much the worse,
more frightened, according to the saw bones, and there, you

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might have supposed, would be an end to it. But
there was one curious circumstance. I had taken a loathing
to my gentleman at first sight, so had the child's family,
which was only natural. But the doctor's case was what
struck me. He was the usual cut and dry apocethary,

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of no particular age and color, with a strong Edinburgh accent,
and about as emotional as a bagpipe. Well, sir, he
was like the rest of us. Every time he looked
at my prisoner, I saw that saw bones turn sick
and white with the desire to kill him. I knew
what was in his mind, just as he knew what

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was in mine. And killing being out of the question,
we did the next best. We told the man we
could and would make such a scandal out of this
as should make his name stink from one end of
London to the other. If he had any friends or
any credit, we undertook that he should lose them. And

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all the time, as we were pitching it in red hot,
we were keeping the wind off him as best we could,
for they were as wild as harpies. I never saw
a circle of such hateful faces, and there was the
man in the middle with a kind of black, sneering coolness.
Frightened too, I could see that. But carrying it off, Sir,

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really like Satan. If you choose to make capital out
of this accident, said he. I'm naturally helpless, no gentleman,
but wishes to avoid a scene, says he, name your figure. Well,
we screwed him up to a hundred pounds for the
child's family. He would have clearly liked to stick out.

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But there was something about the lot of us that
meant mischief, And at last, he struck. The next thing
was to get the money. And where do you think
he carried us? But to that place with the door
whipped out, A key went in and presently came back
with the matter of ten pounds in gold and a
check for the balance at coots drawn, payable to bearer,

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and signed with a name that I can't mention, though
it's one of the points of my story, but it
was a name at least very well known and often printed.
The figure was stiff, but the signature was good for
more than that, if it was only genuine. I took
the liberty of pointing out to my gentleman that the

(10:25):
whole business looked apocryphal, and that a man does not
in real life walk into a cellar door at four
in the morning and come out of it with another
man's check for close upon a hundred pounds. But he
was quite easy and sneering. Set your mind at rest,
says he. I will stay with you till the banks open,

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and cash the check myself. So we all set off,
the doctor and the child's father, and our friend and myself,
and pass the rest of the night in my chambers.
The next day, when we had breakfasted went in a
body to the bank. I gave in the check myself
and said I had every reason to believe it was

(11:08):
a forgery. Not a bit of it. The check was genuine.
Tut tut, said mister Utterson. I see you feel as
I do, said mister Enfield. Yes, it's a bad story.
For my man was a fellow that nobody could have
to do with, a really damnable man. And the person

(11:28):
that drew the check is the very pink of the
proprieties celebrated too. And what makes it worse one of
your fellows who do what they call good blackmail. I
suppose an honest man paying through the nose for some
of the capers of his youth. Blackmail house is what
I call that place with the door. In consequence, though

(11:52):
even that, you know, is far from explaining all he added,
and with the words fell into a vein of musing.
From this he was recalled by mister Utterson, asking rather suddenly,
and you don't know if the drawer of the check
lives there? A likely place, isn't it, returned mister Renfield.

(12:12):
But I happen to have noticed his address. He lives
in some square or other, and you never asked about
the place with the door, said mister Utterson. No, sir,
I had a delicacy, was the reply. I feel very
strongly about putting questions. It partakes too much of the
style of the day of judgment. You start a question,

(12:34):
and it's like starting a stone. You sit quietly on
the top of a hill, and away the stone goes,
starting others, and presently some bland old bird, the last
you would have thought of, is knocked on the head
in his own back garden, and the family have to
change their name. No, sir, I make it a rule

(12:54):
of mine. The more it looks like Queer Street, the
less I ask. A very good rule too, said the lawyer.
But I have studied the place for myself, continued mister Enfield.
It seems scarcely a house. There is no other door,
and nobody goes in or out of that one, but
once in a great while, the gentleman of my adventure.

(13:18):
There are three windows looking on the court on the
first floor, none below. The windows are always shut, but
they're clean. And then there is a chimney which is
generally smoking, so somebody must live there. And yet it's
not so sure, for the buildings are so packed together
about that court that it's hard to say where one

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ends and another begins. The pair walked on again for
a while in silence, and then Enfield said, mister Utterson,
that's a good rule of yours. Yes, I think it
is returned Enfield. And for all of that, continued the lawyer.
There's one point I want to ask. I want to

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ask the name of that man who walked over the child. Well,
said mister Enfield. I can't see what harm it would do.
It was a man by the name of Hyde, Hum
said mister ruttereson what sort of a man is he?
To see? He is not easy to describe. There is

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something wrong with his appearance, something displeasing, something downright detestable.
I never saw a man I so disliked, and yet
I scarce know why. He must be deformed somewhere. He
gives a strong feeling of deformity, although I can't specify
the point. He's an extraordinary looking man, and yet I

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really can name nothing out of the way, No, sir,
I can make no hand of it. I can't describe him,
and it's not for want of memory, for I declare
I can see him this moment mister uttereson again walked
some way in silence, and obviously under a weight of consideration.

(15:08):
You are sure he used a key, he inquired at last,
My dear sir, began Enfield, surprised out of himself. Yes,
I know, said Utterson. I know it must seem strange.
The fact is, if I do not ask you the
name of the other party, it is because I know
it already. You see, Richard, your tale has gone home.

(15:31):
If you have been in exact in any point, you
had better correct it. I think you might have warned
me returned the other with a touch of sullenness. But
I've been pedantically exact, as you call it. The fellow
had a key, and what's more, he has it still.
I saw him use it not a week ago. Mister

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Utterson sighed deeply, but said never a word, and the
young man and presently resumed. Here is another lesson to
say nothing, said he. I'm ashamed of my long tongue.
Let us make a bargain never to refer to this again.
With all my heart, said the lawyer, I shake hands

(16:16):
on that, Richard. Chapter two, Search for mister Hyde. That evening,
mister Utterson came home to his bachelor house in somber spirits,
and sat down to dinner without relish. It was his

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custom of a Sunday, when his meal was over, to
sit close by the fire a volume of some dry
divinity on his reading desk until the clock of the
neighboring church rang out the hour of twelve, when he
would go soberly and gratefully to bed. On this night, however,
as soon as the cloth was taken away, he took

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up a candle and went into his business room. There
he opened his safe, took from the most private part
of it a document endorsed on the envelope as doctor
Jeckyll's will, and sat down with a clouded brow to
study its contents. The will was holograph for mister Utterson,

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though he took charge of it now that it was made,
had refused to lend the least assistance in the making
of it. It provided not only that in the case
of the decease of Henry Jekyll md, dcl LLD, frs, etc.
All his possessions were to pass into the hands of

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his friend and benefactor Edward Hyde, but that in case
of doctor Jeckyll's disappearance or unexplained absence for any period
exceeding three calendar months, the said Edward Hyde should step
into the said head Henry Jekyll's shoes, without further delay,

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and free from any burden or obligation beyond the payment
of a few small sums to the members of the
doctor's household. This document had long been the lawyer's eye saw.
It offended him, both as a lawyer and as a
lover of the sane and customary sides of life, to
whom the fanciful was the immodest, And hitherto it was

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his ignorance of mister Hyde that had swelled his indignation.
Now by a sudden turn, it was his knowledge. It
was already bad enough when the name was but a
name of which he could learn no more. It was
worse when it began to be clothed upon with detestable attributes.

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And out of the shifting in substantial mists that had
so baffled his eye, there leapt up the sudden, definite
presentment of a fiend. Thought it was madness, he said,
as he replaced the obnoxious paper in the safe. And
now I begin to fear it is disgrace. With that,

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he blew out his candle, put on a greatcoat, and
set forth in the direction of Cavendish Square, that citadel
of medicine, where his friend, the great Doctor Lanion had
his house, and received his crowding patience. If any one
knows it will be Lanion, he had thought, the solemn

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butler knew and welcomed him. He was subjected to no
stage of delay, but ushered direct from the door to
the dining room, where Doctor Lanion sat alone over his wine.
He was a hearty, healthy, dapper, red faced gentleman, with
a shock of hair prematurely white, and a boisterous and
decided manner. At sight of mister Otterson, he sprang up

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from his chair and welcomed him with both hands. The geniality,
as was the way of the man, was somewhat theatrical
to the eye, but it reposed on genuine feeling. For
these two were old friends, old mates both at school
and college, both thorough respectors of themselves and of each other.

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And what does not always follow men who thoroughly enjoyed
each other's company. After a little rambling talk, the lawyer
led up to the subject which so disagreeably preoccupied his mind.
I suppose, Lanion, he said, you and I must be
the two oldest friends that Henry Jekyll has. I wish

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the friends were younger, chuckled doctor Lanion. But I suppose
we are, and what of that? I see little of
him now? Indeed, said Utterson, I thought you had a
bond of common interest we had, was the reply. But
it is more than ten years since Henry Jackal became

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too fanciful for me. He began to go wrong, wrong
in the mind, And though of course I continued to
take an interest in him for old sake's sake, as
they say, I see and have seen devilish little of
the man. Such unscientific balderdash, added the doctor, flushing. Suddenly
Purple would have estranged Damon and Pytheas. This little spirit

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of temper was somewhat of relief to mister Utterson. They
have only differed on some point of science, he thought,
And being a man of no scientific passions except in
the matter of conveyancing, he even added, it is nothing
worse than that. He gave his friend a few seconds
to recover his composure and then approach the question he

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had come to put. Did you ever come across a
protege of his one hide. He asked, hide, repeated Lanyon, no,
no I ever heard of him since my time. That
was the amount of information that the lawyer carried back
with him to the great dark bed, on which he

(22:10):
tossed to and fro until the small hours of the
morning began to grow large. It was a night of
little ease to his toiling mind, toiling in mere darkness
and besieged by questions. Six o'clock struck on the bells
of the church that was so conveniently near to mister

(22:31):
Rottereson's dwelling, And still he was digging at the problem.
Hitherto it had touched him on the intellectual side alone,
But now his imagination also was engaged, or rather enslaved.
And as he lay and tossed in the gross darkness
of the night and the curtained room, mister Enfield's tail

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went by before his mind in a scroll of lighted pictures.
He would be aware of the great field of lamps
of a nocturnal city, then of the figure of a
man walking swiftly, then of a child running from the doctors.
And then these met, and that human juggernaut trod the

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child down and passed on regardless of her screams, or
else he would see a room in a rich house
where his friend lay asleep, dreaming and smiling at his dreams.
And then the door of that room would be opened,
the curtains of the bed plucked apart, the sleeper recalled,
and lo there would stand by his side, a figure

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to whom power was given, and even at that dead
hour he must rise and do its bidding. The figure
in these two phases haunted the lawyer all night, and
if at any time he dozed over, it was but
to see it glide more stealthily through sleeping houses, or
move the more swiftly, and still the more swiftly, even

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to dizziness through wider labyrinths of lamp lighted city, and
at every street corner crush a child and leave her screaming.
And still the figure had no face by which he
might know it even in his dreams. It had no face,
or one that baffled him and melted before his eyes.

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And thus it was that there sprang up and grew
apace in the lawyer's mind, a singularly strong, almost an
inordinate curiosity to behold the features of the real mister Hyde.
If he could but once set his eyes on him,
he thought the mystery would lighten and perhaps roll away altogether,

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as was the habit of mysterious things. When well examined,
he might see a reason for his friend's strange preference
or bondage, call it which you please, and even for
the startling clauses of the will. And at least it
would be a face worth seeing, the face of a
man who was without bowels of mercy, a face which

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had but to show itself, to raise up in the
mind of the unimpressionable Enfield a spirit of enduring hatred.
From that time forward, mister Utterson began to haunt the
door in the by street of shops in the morning
before office hours, at noon, when business was plenty and

(25:26):
time scarce, at night, under the face of the fog
city moon, by all lights, and at all hours of
solitude or concourse. The lawyer was to be found on
his chosen post if he be mised a Hyde, he
had thought, I shall be mised to seek, And at

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last his patience was rewarded. It was a fine, dry night,
frost in the air, the streets as clean as a
ballroom floor, the lamps unshaken by any wind, drawing a
regular pattern of light and shadow. By ten o'clock, when
the shops were closed, the by street was very solitary, and,

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in spite of the low growl of London, from all around,
very silent. Small sounds carried far. Domestic sounds out of
the houses were clearly audible on either side of the roadway,
and the rumour of the approach of any passenger preceded
him by a long time. Mister Otterson had been some

(26:34):
minutes at his post when he was aware of an
odd light footstep drawing near. In the course of his
nightly patrols, he had long grown accustomed to the quaint
effect with which the footfalls of a single person, while
he is still a great way off, suddenly spring out,
distinct from the vast hum and clatter of the city.

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Yet his attention had never before been so sharply and
decisively arrested, and it was with a strong, superstitious provision
of success that he withdrew into the entry of the court.
The steps drew swiftly nearer and swelled out suddenly louder
as they turned the end of the street. The lawyer,

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looking forth from the entry could soon see what manner
of man he had to deal with. He was small
and very plainly dressed, and the look of him, even
at that distance, went somehow strongly against the watcher's inclination.
But he made straight for the door, crossing the roadway

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to save time, and as he came he drew a
key from his pocket, like one approaching home. Mister Utterson
stepped out and touched him on the shoulder as he passed.
Mister Hyde. I think mister Hyde shrank back with a
hissing intake of the breath, but his fear was only momentary,

(28:03):
and though he did not look the lawyer in the face,
he answered coolly enough, that is my name. What do
you want? I see you are going in, returned the lawyer.
I am an old friend of doctor Jekyll's, mister Utterson,
of Gaunt Street. You must have heard my name and
meeting you so conveniently, I thought you might admit me.

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You will not find doctor Jekyll. He is from home,
replied mister Hyde, blowing in the key, and then suddenly,
but still without looking up, how do you know me?
He asked? On your side, said mister Utterson, will you
do me a favor with pleasure, replied the other. What

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shall it be? Will you let me see your face?
Said the lawyer. Mister Hyde appeared to hesitate, and then,
as if upon some sudden reflection, fronted about with an
air of defiance, and their stared at each other pretty
fixedly for a few seconds. Now I shall know you again,

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said mister Utterson. It may be useful, yes, returned mister Hyde.
It is as well. We have met, and apropos you
should have my address, and he gave a number of
a street in Soho. Good God, thought mister Utterson. Can
he too have been thinking of the will, but he

(29:27):
kept his feelings to himself and only grunted an acknowledgment
of the address. And now said the other, How do
you know me by description? Was the reply whose description
we have common friends, said mister Utterson. Common friends, uttered

(29:48):
mister Hyde, a little hoarsely. Who are they Jekyll, for instance,
said the lawyer. He never told you, cried mister Hyde,
with a flush of anger. I did not think you
would have lied. Come, said mister Utterson. That is not
fitting language. The other snarled aloud with a savage laugh,

(30:08):
and the next moment with extraordinary quickness, he had unlocked
the door and disappeared into the house. The lawyer stood
awhile when mister 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,

(30:30):
like a man in mental perplexity. The problem he was
thus debating as he walked was one of a class
that is rarely solved. Mister 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

(30:53):
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 mister Utterson regarded him. There must

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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 troglodittic, Shall we say,
or can it be the old story of doctor Fell
Or is it the mere radiance of a foul soul

(31:37):
that thus transpires through and transfigures its clay continent? The
last I think for oh my poor old Harry Jekyl.
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,

(32:00):
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 mapping, graver as, architects, shady lawyers,
and the agents of obscure enterprises. One house, however, second
from the corner, was still occupied entire and at the

(32:23):
door of this which wore a great air of wealth
and comfort, though it was now plunged in darkness except
for the fanlight, mister Rotterson stopped and knocked. A well
dressed elderly servant opened the door. Is doctor Jekyll at home,
Paul asked the lawyer. I will see, mister Rotterson, said Paul,

(32:47):
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 firm
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,

(33:10):
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 Otterson
himself was wont to speak of it as the pleasantest
room in London. But to night there was a shodder
in his blood. The face of Hyde sat heavy in

(33:32):
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

(33:52):
ashamed of his relief. When Paul presently returned to announce
that doctor Jekyll was gone out. I saw mister Hyde
go in by the old dissecting room door, Paul, he said,
is that right when doctor Jackyll is from home? Quite right,
mister Utterson, Sir, replied the servant. Mister Hyde has a key.

(34:14):
Your master seems to repose a great deal of trust
in that young man, Paul resumed the other musingly, Yes, sir,
he do, indeed, said Paul. We all have orders to
obey him. I do not think I ever met mister Hyde,
asked Utterson. Oh dear, no, sir, he never dines here,
replied the butler. Indeed, we see very little of him

(34:37):
on this side of the house. He mostly comes and
goes by the laboratory. Well, good night, Paul, Good night,
mister 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

(34:59):
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 pedecardo years after memory has forgotten, and self love

(35:21):
condoned the fault, And the lawyer, scared by the thought,
brooded awhile 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

(35:42):
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.

(36:06):
This mister Hyde, if he were studded, thought he must
have secrets of his own, black secrets, by the look
of him, secrets compared to which poor Jeckyl'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,

(36:31):
and the danger of it. For if this hide suspects
the existence of the will, he may grow impatient to inherit. Aye,
I must put my shoulder to the wheel, if Jekyl
will but let me, he added, if Jekyl will only
let me. For once more he saw before his mind's eye,

(36:53):
as clear as a transparency, the strange clauses of the
will chapter three, doctor 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,

(37:16):
all intelligent, reputable men, and all judges of good wine,
and mister 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

(37:38):
detail the dry lawyer when the light hearted and the
loose tongued had already their foot on the threshold. They
liked to sit awhile in his unobtrusive company, practicing for solitude,
sobering their minds in the man's rich silence. After the
expense and strain of gaiety. This rule, Doctor Jeckyll was

(38:01):
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 caste, perhaps,
but every mark of capacity and kindness, you could see
by his looks that he cherished mister Utterson a sincere
and warm affection. I've been wanting to speak to you,

(38:25):
Jackal began the latter. You know that will of yours.
A close observer might have gathered that the topic was distasteful,
but the doctor carried it off gaily. My poor Utterson,
he said, you are unfortunate in such a client. I
never saw a man so distressed as you were by

(38:45):
my will, unless it were that hide bound pedant Lanyon
at what he called my scientific heressies. Oh, I know
he's a good fellow. You needn't frown, an excellent fellow,
and I always mean to see more of it him.
But a hide bound pedant for all that, an ignorant,
blatant pedant. I was never more disappointed in any man

(39:08):
than Lanyon. You know I never approved of it, pursued Utterson, ruthlessly,
disregarding the fresh topic my will. Yes, certainly, I know that,
said the doctor. A trifle sharply. You told me so, well,
I tell you so again, continued the lawyer. I have
been learning something of young hide. The large handsome face

(39:33):
of doctor Jekyll grew pale to the very lips, and
there came a blackness about his eyes. I do not
care to hear more, said he. This is a matter.
I thought we had agreed to stop. What I heard
was abominable, said Utterson. It can make no change. You

(39:54):
do not understand my position, returned the doctor, with a
certain incoherency of manner. I am painfully situated, Utterson. My
position is a very strange, a very strange one. It
is one of those affairs that cannot be mended by talking, Jekyl,
said Utterson. You know me, I'm a man to be trusted.

(40:17):
Make a clean breast of this in confidence, and I
make no doubt I can get you out of it.
My good Utterson, said the doctor. This is very good
of you, This is downright good of you, and I
cannot find words to thank you in I believe you fully.
I would trust you before any man alive, ay before myself,

(40:37):
if I could make the choice. But indeed, it isn't
what you fancy. It is not so bad as that.
And just to put your good heart at rest, I
will tell you one thing. The moment I choose I
can be rid of mister Hyde. I give you my
hand upon that, and I thank you again and again.

(40:59):
And I will add one little word, Utterson, that I'm
sure you'll take in good part this is a private matter,
and I beg of you to let it sleep. Utterson
reflected a little, looking in the fire. I have no
doubt you are perfectly right, he said, at last, getting

(41:19):
to his feet. Well, but since we have touched upon
the business and for the last time, I hope, continued
the doctor. There is one point I should like you
to understand. I have really a very great interest in
poor Hide. I know you have seen him. He told
me so, and I fear he was rude. But I

(41:41):
do sincerely take a great, a very great interest in
that young man. And if I am taken away, Utterson,
I wish you to promise me that you will bear
with him and get his rights for him. I think
you would if you knew all, and it would be
a weight off my mind if you would promise. I

(42:02):
can't promise that I shall ever like him, said the lawyer.
I don't ask that, pleaded Jekyl, laying his hand upon
the other's arm. I ask only for justice. I only
ask you to help him for my sake. When I
am no longer here, Utterson heaved an irrepressible sigh. Well,

(42:24):
he said, I promise the end of Chapter three