The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde | Page 8

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. Yet his
attention had never before been so sharply and decisively arrested; and it was with a
strong, superstitious prevision 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, 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 to save time; and as he came, he drew a key
from his pocket like one approaching home.
Mr. Utterson stepped out and touched him on the shoulder as he passed. "Mr. Hyde, I
think?"
Mr. Hyde shrank back with a hissing intake of the breath. But his fear was only
momentary; 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 Dr. Jekyll's--Mr.
Utterson of Gaunt Street--you must have heard of my name; and meeting you so
conveniently, I thought you might admit me."
"You will not find Dr. Jekyll; he is from home," replied Mr. Hyde, blowing in the key.
And then suddenly, but still without looking up, "How did you know me?" he asked.
"On your side," said Mr. Utterson "will you do me a favour?"
"With pleasure," replied the other. "What shall it be?"
"Will you let me see your face?" asked the lawyer.

Mr. Hyde appeared to hesitate, and then, as if upon some sudden reflection, fronted about
with an air of defiance; and the pair stared at each other pretty fixedly for a few seconds.
"Now I shall know you again," said Mr. Utterson. "It may be useful."
"Yes," returned Mr. 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 Mr. Utterson, "can he, too, have been thinking of the will?" But he
kept his feelings to himself and only grunted in acknowledgment of the address.
"And now," said the other, "how did you know me?"
"By description," was the reply.
"Whose description?"
"We have common friends," said Mr. Utterson.
"Common friends," echoed Mr. Hyde, a little hoarsely. "Who are they?"
"Jekyll, for instance," said the lawyer.
"He never told you," cried Mr. Hyde, with a flush of anger. "I did not think you would
have lied."
"Come," said Mr. Utterson, "that is not fitting language."
The other snarled aloud into a savage laugh; and the next moment, with extraordinary
quickness, he had unlocked the door and disappeared into the house.
The lawyer stood awhile when Mr. 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 like a man in mental perplexity. The problem he was thus debating as he walked,
was one of a class that is rarely solved. Mr. 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 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 Mr. Utterson regarded him. "There must 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 troglodytic, shall
we say? or can it be the old story of Dr. Fell? or is it the mere radiance of a foul soul that
thus transpires through, and transfigures, its clay continent? The last, I think; for, O my
poor old Harry Jekyll, 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, 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; map-engravers, architects, shady lawyers and the agents of
obscure enterprises. One house, however, second from the corner, was still occupied
entire; and at the door of this, which wore a great air of wealth and comfort, though it was
now