The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson

at the laboratory door. We give you ten
minutes, to get to your stations."
    As Bradshaw left, the lawyer looked at his watch. "And now,
Poole, let us get to ours," he said; and taking the poker under
his arm, led the way into the yard. The scud had banked over the
moon, and it was now quite dark. The wind, which only broke in
puffs and draughts into that deep well of building, tossed the
light of the candle to and fro about their steps, until they came
into the shelter of the theatre, where they sat down silently to
wait. London hummed solemnly all around; but nearer at hand, the
stillness was only broken by the sounds of a footfall moving to
and fro along the cabinet floor.
    "So it will walk all day, sir," whispered Poole; "ay, and the
better part of the night. Only when a new sample comes from the
chemist, there's a bit of a break. Ah, it's an ill conscience
that's such an enemy to rest! Ah, sir, there's blood foully shed
in every step of it! But hark again, a little closer—put your
heart in your ears, Mr. Utterson, and tell me, is that the
doctor's foot?"
    The steps fell lightly and oddly, with a certain swing, for
all they went so slowly; it was different indeed from the heavy
creaking tread of Henry Jekyll. Utterson sighed. "Is there never
anything else?" he asked.
    Poole nodded. "Once," he said. "Once I heard it weeping!"
    "Weeping? how that?" said the lawyer, conscious of a sudden
chill of horror.
    "Weeping like a woman or a lost soul," said the butler. "I
came away with that upon my heart, that I could have wept too."
    But now the ten minutes drew to an end. Poole disinterred the
axe from under a stack of packing straw; the candle was set upon
the nearest table to light them to the attack; and they drew near
with bated breath to where that patient foot was still going up
and down, up and down, in the quiet of the night. "Jekyll," cried
Utterson, with a loud voice, "I demand to see you." He paused a
moment, but there came no reply. "I give you fair warning, our
suspicions are aroused, and I must and shall see you," he resumed;
"if not by fair means, then by foul—if not of your consent,
then by brute force!"
    "Utterson," said the voice, "for God's sake, have mercy!"
    "Ah, that's not Jekyll's voice—it's Hyde's!" cried
Utterson. "Down with the door, Poole!"
    Poole swung the axe over his shoulder; the blow shook the
building, and the red baize door leaped against the lock and
hinges. A dismal screech, as of mere animal terror, rang from the
cabinet. Up went the axe again, and again the panels crashed and
the frame bounded; four times the blow fell; but the wood was
tough and the fittings were of excellent workmanship; and it was
not until the fifth, that the lock burst and the wreck of the door
fell inwards on the carpet.
    The besiegers, appalled by their own riot and the stillness
that had succeeded, stood back a little and peered in. There lay
the cabinet before their eyes in the quiet lamplight, a good fire
glowing and chattering on the hearth, the kettle singing its thin
strain, a drawer or two open, papers neatly set forth on the
business table, and nearer the fire, the things laid out for tea;
the quietest room, you would have said, and, but for the glazed
presses full of chemicals, the most commonplace that night in
London.
    Right in the middle there lay the body of a man sorely
contorted and still twitching. They drew near on tiptoe, turned
it on its back and beheld the face of Edward Hyde. He was dressed
in clothes far too large for him, clothes of the doctor's bigness;
the cords of his face still moved with a semblance of life, but
life was quite gone: and by the crushed phial in the hand and the
strong smell of kernels that hung upon the air, Utterson knew that
he was looking on the body of a self-destroyer.
    "We have come too late," he said sternly, "whether to save or
punish. Hyde is gone to his account; and it only remains for us
to find the body of your master."
    The far greater proportion of the