The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. 4 undemonstrative at the best, and even his friendship seemed to be founded in a similar catholicity of good-nature. a preoccupation with pre-destination and a fascination with the pres- ence of evil. In Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde he explores the darker side of the. THE STRANGE CASE OF Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Robert Louis Stevenson Illustrated by Charles Raymond Macauley. First published in This web edition.
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PDF version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. The original pronunciation of Jekyll was "Jeekul" which was the pronunciation used in . JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE. Robert Louis Stevenson. Rapid Reader for Class IX. English (First Language). The Government of West Bengal has borne the cost of . The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Strange Case Of Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde, by Robert Louis Stevenson This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no.
He waited for Hyde in the morning before office hours. At night, under the fogged city moon, Utterson waited. The lawyer was always present at his post waiting for a glimpse of Hyde.
He was a patient man. Hyde, then I shall be Mr. At last his patience was rewarded. It was a dry night. Frost was in the air. The street was quiet. Having only been at his post for a few minutes, Utterson became aware of odd, light footsteps coming closer.
He drew back into the entry of the court. The steps grew louder. Utterson felt braver. He peered out from his entryway. He saw a small, plainly dressed man. The man made 21 straight for the door, crossing the street to save time. He drew a key from his pocket. Utterson stepped out and touched him on the shoulder as he passed. What do you want? What a convenient meeting. I am an old friend of Dr. My name is Mr. Utterson of Gaunt 22 Street. Surely you must have heard my name.
I thought you might allow me to go in with you. Hyde appeared to hesitate. Then he suddenly turned to face Utterson. They stared at each other for a few seconds. And you should have my address. Good God! Could he be thinking of the will? Is he waiting for my call? Tell me at once. In a flash, he had unlocked the door and disappeared into the house. Then he walked slowly up the street. While he walked, he scratched his brow every few feet as he tried to make sense of the meeting.
How could a man, pale and dwarfish with a displeasing smile, bring about such loathing fear? There must be something else, thought Utterson. Utterson walked around the corner from the door. He stopped at the second house from the corner.
The house was well-lit. It wore an air of great comfort and wealth. Utterson knocked on the door. A well-dressed servant answered. Jekyll home, Poole? He admitted the visitor into the hall. The hall was glorious. It was adorned with oak cabinets and the finest carpets. A fire was always in the hearth. It was a welcoming sight to all who entered.
This hall was the pride of Henry Jekyll. Usually Utterson felt at home here. He had often thought of it as the most comforting and welcoming place in all of London. But tonight he shuddered. He was glad when Poole returned and announced that Dr.
Jekyll had gone out. Hyde go in by the back door round the corner. Is that right? Hyde has a key. Hyde, Poole. He mostly comes and goes through the laboratory. A good night to you. Poor Henry Jekyll, he thought. He must be in deep trouble. He was wild when he was young. His troubled days must have caught up to him. Hyde must have secrets about Jekyll. Things cannot continue as they are. It makes me sick to think of this creature stealing like a thief.
If only Jekyll would allow me to help. I must get to the bottom of this.
Jekyll gave one of his dinner parties. He invited some of his old friends. Utterson was thrilled and made sure he remained behind after the others had left. I never saw a man as distressed as you are by my will. Unless, of course, it was Lanyon when he heard me talk of my scientific theories. I do plan on seeing more of him. But he is ignorant. I was never more disappointed in any man than I am in Lanyon. A blackness came over his eyes. This is a matter we agreed to drop. My circumstances are strange.
Very strange indeed. They cannot be changed by talking about them. Take me into your confidence. I promise I can help you fix the problem. I cannot find the words to thank you for your concern. I believe your intentions. But it is not as bad as you think. I assure you that I can get rid of Mr. Hyde the moment I wish to. I promise you that. But this is a private matter. I beg of you to let it stay that way. I really do have a great interest in Hyde. He told me so. I fear he was rude to you. Please forgive him.
Make sure he gets what is rightfully his if the time comes. I think you would do so gladly if you knew everything. It 31 would be a great weight off my mind if you could promise me that. I promise. Not only was the crime violent, the victim was a well-known politician. He was held in high regard. It happened one night when a maid, living alone by the river, went upstairs to bed.
Although the fog had rolled in, the street was lit up by the moon. This maid stood gazing out the window. She noticed two men walking below approaching each other. An older gentleman was walking down the lane. A small man rounded the corner. As the smaller man approached, the older man bowed and pointed. It seemed as if he was asking his way about town. She recognized him at once.
It was Mr. Hyde who had come to visit her master from time to time.
He had a heavy cane in his hand and appeared to ignore the older man. Then, all of a sudden, his temper flared. He stomped his foot and held the cane in the air. Within seconds, he waved it like a madman. The older gentleman took a step back as if surprised by the behavior. Then, without warning, Hyde attacked the poor man.
He clubbed him down to the ground, jumped on the man, and trampled him. At the horror of such sights and sounds, she fainted. The murderer had disappeared long ago. But the victim? He lay in the middle of the street. His body was mangled.
The stick with which the 34 deed had been done had broken. How could it not under the constant poundings? Half of it rolled into the gutter. The other half, no doubt, had been carried away by the murderer. A purse and a gold watch were found on the victim.
However, there was nothing to identify him. There were no cards or papers except for a sealed envelope. It was addressed to Mr. An inspector from Scotland Yard brought the letter to the lawyer the next morning. But we do know that he had this letter addressed to you in his pocket. Utterson flinched at the name of this monster. His face grew pale. His mind wandered to his good friend Dr.
After a minute, he was finally able to speak. He took a hansom cab through the streets and arrived at the police station. Inspector Newcomen led him into a back room, where a body lay covered with a white sheet. When Newcomen pulled back the sheet, Utterson gasped. I am sorry to say that this is Sir Danvers Carew. He is a member of Parliament! He showed Utterson the broken stick.
As broken and battered as it was, he recognized it at once. He himself had given it to Dr. Jekyll many years before. And now it was used to murder Danvers! Now, we must find him. Then he raised his head. Utterson and Inspector Newcomen drove to Soho. As the cab approached the street address, the fog lifted and revealed a dingy street. Ragged children huddled in doorways. Women wandered about looking tired and dirty.
Utterson found it hard to believe that this was the home of Dr. Jekyll had always surrounded himself with fancy things. Soho, and the people in it, were anything but. An old, silver-haired woman answered the door. She had an odd, evil-looking face. However, her manners were perfect. After he returned, he quickly left again within the hour. Utterson stopped her protests. This is Inspector Newcomen of Scotland Yard. What has he done? Utterson and the inspector exchanged glances. Most rooms were empty.
But a few were decorated with the finest luxury and good taste. A closet was filled with fine 39 wine. Plates of silver were in the cupboards. The linens were the finest available. An expensive picture hung upon the wall.
Utterson figured it must have been a gift from Jekyll. Hyde would know nothing of art nor have the means to download it. It was obvious that the rooms had been ransacked. Clothes lay upon the floor with the pockets turned out.
Drawers stood open. In the hearth, a pile of ashes still glowed. From these embers, the inspector plucked out a halfburned green checkbook and examined it. Behind the door, the other half of the stick was found.
The inspector and Utterson rushed to the bank. They discovered that Hyde had several thousand pounds in his account. He must have lost his head. Why else would he leave the stick behind or burn the checkbook? Why, money is life to 40 a man. If we wait here, he will surely show up to claim it. Not many people knew what Hyde looked like. Those who saw him described him in their own way.
The only common description used was: a wicked, evil man with some type of deformity. He was anxious to go about his business. He found his way to Dr. Poole led him into the kitchen. From there, they went out into the courtyard. This yard had once been a beautiful garden. Looking around it now, Utterson saw nothing but gloom and darkness.
Beyond the yard sat a building that was known as the laboratory. The men walked toward it. As Utterson entered, he felt an eerie silence. Once this place had been crowded with eager students. Now it lay silent. The floor was covered with crates and littered with packing 42 straw.
At the end of the room, a flight of stairs led to a red door. At first glance, Utterson saw a full-length mirror and a large desk. There were three windows covered with iron bars that looked out upon the courtyard.
A fire burned in the fireplace. Gathered around the fire as if trying to get warm sat Jekyll. He looked deathly ill. He did not rise to meet his visitor. Instead, he held out a cold hand and welcomed him with a strained voice. The doctor shuddered. I could hear them from my dining room. Please tell me that you are not crazy enough to hide this murderer. I am done with him in this world. Indeed, he does not want my help. You do not know him as I do. He is safe. Yes, he is quite safe, mark my words.
But he will never be heard from again. If this goes to trial, your name might come up. Your reputation will be ruined. There is one thing that you can help me with.
I have received a letter. I am not sure if I should show it to Scotland Yard. I should like to leave it to you to decide. You are a wise judge and I have great trust in you. I am quite done with him. I was only thinking of my own character, which this whole incident has exposed. It said that Dr. Utterson actually felt better after seeing this letter and felt guilty for suspecting anything more to the pairing of the two.
It was hand delivered. Jekyll nodded. You must decide for me what I should do with the letter. Was it Hyde who dictated the terms in your will about the disappearance?
He shut his mouth and nodded. By God, I have learned my lesson. The only mail received today came by post. If Poole knew nothing of the letter, then it had to come in by the laboratory door. Perhaps it was even written in the office since Hyde had a key. When he arrived home, Mr. Guest, his clerk, sat down by the fire with him.
The two were close. This is, of course, just between us. He studied it at once with a passion. But it is an odd sort of handwriting. A small envelope was on top of the pile.
Is it private? If not, may I see it? Why do you want to see it? He compared them. The two hands are in many ways identical.
Except for the slope, of course. As soon as Utterson was alone that night, he locked the note in his safe where it stayed.
As he did so, his heart sank. I cannot believe that my good friend, the honorable Dr. Jekyll, would forge his name for a murderer! Much of his life was uncovered and the stories swirled for a bit. Thousands of pounds were offered as a reward for his capture. But it was as if he never existed. Life in London returned to normal. Even Utterson carried on after a while. The death of Sir Danvers, to his way of thinking, was more than paid for by the disappearance of Hyde.
A fair exchange of sorts. Now that the evil man was gone, a new life began for Jekyll as well. He came out of his seclusion. He visited friends and relatives and planned his dinner parties once more. His charity work picked up. His face seemed to brighten. For two months after the disappearance of Hyde, Jekyll was at peace.
On January 8, Jekyll had invited over some of his friends for a dinner party. Lanyon had been there. To all who attended, it looked as if Lanyon and Jekyll had repaired their friendship. But on the twelfth and the fourteenth, things changed.
Jekyll took to his office once again. He refused to see Utterson. Utterson was now used to visiting his friend daily. To be shut out so suddenly worried him. After a few days of being turned away, Utterson went to see Lanyon. Utterson was, of course, admitted at once to see his good friend.
But when Utterson saw Lanyon, he barely recognized him. He was shocked by the appearance of the man he had dined with just days before. His flesh had aged so much that death looked 51 certain. His hair was gone. It is only a question of weeks now. I have had a pleasant life, but my days grow dim. He held up a trembling hand. I am quite done with that man. I beg you to never speak of him again.
He is already dead to me. These two men enjoyed dinner and laughter together just days ago! What could have happened? We are three very old friends. I cannot tell you. Although he spoke about other things, his mind was never far from Jekyll. When he got home that evening, he wrote a letter to Jekyll.
He also demanded to know the cause of his unhappy break with Lanyon. The next day, Utterson received a letter in return. From this moment on, I will lead a life of seclusion. Please 53 do not doubt our friendship. You must allow me to suffer in my own dark way. I am a sinner and I must suffer for my sins. Just a week ago, Jekyll was happy and had peace of mind. How could he change so quickly? He decided there must be more that Jekyll was hiding from him. A week later, Lanyon took to his bed.
Within two weeks, he was dead. After the funeral, Utterson went to his office. He took out an envelope he was given as he left the service. Utterson shuddered when he looked at the envelope. What if this letter costs me another? Within the envelope was another envelope. It was marked Not to be opened until the death or disappearance of Dr. Henry Jekyll. In the will, he was sure Hyde was the cause of the word disappearance. What could it mean? Utterson wanted to rip the letter open to end the mystery.
His honor and faith to his old friend stopped him. He shoved the letter into his safe where it remained. From that day forward, Utterson felt differently toward Jekyll. He thought kindly of him but was relieved when he was denied admittance to see him.
He preferred to talk to Poole instead of seeing Jekyll. Poole never had anything new to report. It was always the same: Jekyll wished to be left alone. He was low in spirit and sat in his office all day long. Utterson became so used to the same news day after day that in time his visits became less frequent.
They stood in front of the red door and stared at it.
We shall never see any more of Mr. I shared in your feeling of repulsion. To tell you the truth, I am uneasy about Dr. Standing here now, I feel that seeing a friend might do him good. The middle one of three windows was half open. Sitting in the window looking sad and like a prisoner was Jekyll.
It will not last long. Come now! Get your hat and come take a stroll with us. It is quite impossible. I dare not. But indeed, Utterson, I am very glad to see you. This has brought me great pleasure. I would ask you and Mr.
Enfield up but my place is not fit for you to see. In its place came a look of terror and despair. It was such a horrid look, that it froze the blood of the two men in the courtyard. They saw the look only for an instant because, suddenly, the window slammed shut. The two men hurried from the courtyard without saying a word. They traveled in silence throughout the streets. He looked at Enfield. They were both pale and had a terrified look in their eyes.
Enfield only nodded his head and walked on once more in silence. The incident was never far from their thoughts. What brings you here?
Is the doctor ill? Something terribly wrong. I am very afraid this time. What exactly does that mean? He noticed that the butler looked relieved to see that he was coming along. The men rushed through the London streets. When they arrived at the courtyard, Poole pulled off his hat and mopped his brow with a red handkerchief.
Rather, he was trying to wipe away his fear and anguish. I want you to hear but not be heard. If by chance he asks you to enter his office, you must refuse. But he managed to follow Poole through the classroom with its crates and bottles to the foot of the stairs. Poole set the candle down and walked up the stairs. He paused before knocking lightly on the door. Utterson is asking to see you. He walked down the stairs, lifted his candle, and led Utterson back across the yard and into the kitchen.
Well, yes. It has changed. I have been in this house for twenty years. Then, his voice has not been heard from since. He is gone. Who is in there and why, I do not know. But Henry Jekyll? He is gone for good. Jekyll was murdered. Why would the murderer stay? What purpose would that serve? All this last week, whatever has been living inside that office has been crying. The crying continues both night and day for some sort of medicine. He writes his order on a sheet of paper and throws it on the stairs.
There have been dozens of these papers thrown at us. We are sent about town to different chemists to get this medicine. He has me return it. He feels he needs this drug, yet he refuses to accept what is given to him.
If he knew his servants were opening his letters, he would fly into a rage. After crumpling it, he threw it back at me. Do you know for sure beyond any doubt? I came suddenly into the classroom from the garden. It seems he had slipped out to look for this drug or whatever it is. The office door was left open. And there he was at the far end of the room digging through crates. Then he gave a kind of cry that I had never heard before. While he cried out, he ran upstairs into his office.
I only saw him for a minute. But when I did, the hairs on my head stood up like quills. If my master, why 66 did he cry out like a rat and run from me? I have served him long enough to know him. Twenty years I remind you! Now this? Your master, Poole, has come down with an illness. The good doctor has hope of recovery. That must be it, Poole. I think we should quiet our alarms. That is the truth. My master. This thing was a dwarf. I have seen him in his office every day for the past two decades.
I know for sure that the man in that mask was not Dr. I believe with all my heart that a murder was committed. His knees were weak and he felt faint. We will get to the bottom of this. I promise you. We should take the poker from the fire as well. He had a feeling he may have to use it. We need to be honest with each other. That masked figure that you saw? Did you recognize him? But if you are asking if it was Mr.
Hyde, then the answer is yes. It was! Who else could have come in the laboratory door? At the time of the murder, he 70 still had the key with him. Have you ever met Mr. Something about him makes your blood run cold.
It was as cold as ice. I truly do. But a man has his feelings and I give you my word that it was Mr. Truly, I believe you and I believe that poor Jekyll is gone. His murderer is still lurking in his office. When we call Scotland Yard, we will get our revenge. His face was 71 pale and his lips quivered. Poole and I will force our way into the office. If all is well inside, then I take the blame. Go around back with sticks.
Be ready to stop anyone who tries to go through that door. Once the ten minutes pass, we shall do our part. It was now quite dark outside. When they got to the classroom, they sat in silence and waited.
The only sound heard was pacing inside the office. Only when a new sample comes from the chemist does the walking stop. Blood, I say. Listen closely, Mr. The steps fell lightly and oddly. They were slow steps. Very different indeed from the heavy, creaking steps of Henry Jekyll. How is that? So sad that my own heart became heavy as well. The candle was placed on the table allowing them to see what they were about to do.
Poole got the ax 73 from under a stack of packing straw. The men inched forward. I must and shall see you right now. Do you understand what I am saying? Have mercy on me now. Down with the door, Poole! The blow shook the building and the door rattled. A dismal screech rang from inside. Up went the ax again and again until the panels cracked within the frame. Six times the blow fell but the wood was tough.
It was not until the seventh blow that the door crashed to the ground. Both men were shocked by the sudden silence. Cautiously, they peered inside and 74 glanced around the room. On first inspection, it was a quiet and quaint room. A fire roared in the hearth and added warmth. Poole and Utterson inched forward inside. To the left, a cabinet lay on the floor.
Papers spread out around it. A drawer was open as if someone was looking for something. Near the fire, a tea set was ready and waiting. A kettle was in the hearth over the flames. The men moved toward the desk. Behind the chair, right in the midst of a mess of papers and broken glass, lay the body of a man broken and twisted.
It was still twitching. Utterson crept forward and turned it on its back to reveal the face of Edward Hyde. Next to his mouth was a smashed glass tube. Drops of a red liquid dotted the broken pieces of glass. Hyde was dressed in clothes far too large for him. They were clothes that would fit Jekyll. The life of this creature was obviously snuffed from it. Hyde is gone now by his own hand. There is nothing we can do now except find the body of your master. A long hallway connected the classroom to the door on the street.
The office was up a separate flight of stairs. There were a few dark closets and a spacious cellar as well. All of these areas were searched in hopes that Dr.
Jekyll would be found. Each closet only needed a glance since all were empty. No matter where they searched, there was no trace of Henry Jekyll. Poole was frustrated. He stamped on the carpet in the corridor. It was locked. Lying near the carpet was a broken key.
Poole picked it up and examined it. Keeping their eyes on the body, each man took turns looking around the room. At one table, there were traces of chemicals dusting the tops. Some chemicals had been poured into beakers. They were bubbling and foaming. It was obvious that they had been 78 mixed together just moments before the door crashed down. Various measured amounts of white salt were piled high on glass saucers. Poole pointed to the salt.
Utterson the lawyer was a man of a 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 his eye; something indeed which never found its way into his talk, but which spoke not only in these 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 a taste for vintages; and though he enjoyed the theatre, had not crossed the doors of one for twenty years. But he had an approved tolerance for others; sometimes wondering, almost with envy, at the high pressure of spirits involved in their misdeeds; and in any extremity inclined to help rather than to reprove.
And to such as these, so long as they came about his chambers, he never marked a shade of change in his demeanour. No doubt the feat was easy to Mr. Utterson; for he was undemonstrative at the best, and even his friendship seemed to be founded in a similar catholicity of good-nature.
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 the object. Hence, no doubt, the bond that united him to Mr. Richard Enfield, his distant kinsman, the well-known man about town.
It was a nut 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 Sunday walks, 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 the calls 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 week-days. The 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 saleswomen.
Even on Sunday, when it veiled its more florid charms and lay comparatively empty of passage, the street shone out in contrast to its dingy neighbourhood, 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, 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 discoloured wall on the upper; and bore in every feature, the marks of prolonged and sordid negligence.
The door, which was equipped with neither bell nor knocker, was blistered and distained. Tramps slouched into the recess and struck matches on the panels; children kept shop upon the steps; the schoolboy had tried his knife on the mouldings; and for close on a generation, no one had appeared to drive away these random visitors or to repair their ravages. 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.
Street after street, and all the folks asleep — street after street, all lighted 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 stumping along eastward at a good walk, and the other a girl of maybe eight or ten who was running as hard as she was able down a cross street. It sounds nothing to hear, but it was hellish to see. I gave a view-halloa, 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, but gave me one look, so ugly that it brought out the sweat on me like running.
Well, the child was not much the worse, more frightened, according to the Sawbones; and there you 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. He was the usual cut-and-dry apothecary, of no particular age and colour, 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 Sawbones turn sick and white with the desire to kill him.
I knew what was in his mind, just as he knew what 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.