The strange Case of Dr Jekyll And Mr Hyde is a novel by the Scottish author Robert Louis Stevenson first published in 1886. In this harrowing tale of good and evil, the mild-mannered Dr. Jekyll develops a potion that unleashes his secret, inner persona—the loathsome, twisted Mr. Hyde.

 

Part One: Story of the Door

Mr Utterson was a lawyer in London. He was a very serious man, and he did not often smile or laugh. He lived alone, and he had a very quiet life. His friends liked him because he was kind. They trusted him with their secrets.

One of Mr Utterson’s closest friends was Mr Richard Enfield, who was a relative of his. Mr Utterson and Mr Enfield walked together every Sunday. They did not say much to each other, but they enjoyed their walks.

One Sunday Mr Utterson was walking with Mr Enfield. They were in a quiet street of the city. All the houses in the street were clean and cheerful, except for one. The door of this house was dirty. No one seemed to live there.

Mr Enfield looked at the house for a moment, and then he said to Mr Utterson,

‘Do you see that house? I know a strange story, and that house is part of the story.’

‘Oh!’ said Mr Utterson. ‘What is the story?’

‘I’ll tell you,’ Mr Enfield said. ‘One night I was walking home along this street. It was winter, and it was very late. There was nobody in the street. I was frightened. Suddenly I saw two people. One was a little girl, and the other was a man. The little girl was running towards the main street. The man was walking down the main street. They ran into each other at the corner, and the little girl fell down.

‘Then something horrible happened, and I have never been able to forget it.

The little girl was on the ground. The man continued walking. He walked right over the girl’s body! She began to scream and cry. It was very frightening, the way he walked over her.

‘I went after the man, and I brought him back. He was a small man, I remember, and there was something strange about him. I hated him the moment I saw him, I don’t know why.

‘When we came back to the little girl, there was a crowd in the street. The girl’s family was there. There was also a doctor. Everybody was very angry. The girl was all right, but she was crying. Her family was very angry with the man.

‘I hated the man, and I could see that everybody hated him. We all wanted to kill him. We decided to punish him. I told him that he had done a horrible thing.

‘”We will tell everybody,” I said. “You will have no friends when they know what you did tonight.”

‘The man was frightened. We told him to pay the girl’s family some money. We told him to give the family one hundred pounds. It was a lot of money.

”’Very well,” agreed the man, “I will give the family one hundred pounds.”

‘It was late at night,’ Mr Enfield told Mr Utterson. ‘It is difficult to find one hundred pounds in the middle of the night. We went with the man, and he came to this old house. He opened the door with a key. He went inside, and he came out with the money. He had ten pounds in notes, and a cheque for ninety pounds. The cheque was not his — it was signed by another man. The other man is very well known in London.

‘”This is very strange,” I thought. “Perhaps the cheque is a forgery.” I told the man my suspicions. He laughed at me.

”’You don’t trust me,” he said. “I will stay with you until the bank opens.'”

‘So the man stayed with us,’ Mr Enfield went on, ‘and in the morning we all went to the bank. The bank paid the cheque—it was not a forgery, after all.’

‘Oh!’ said Mr Utterson sadly.

‘I know what you are thinking,’ Mr Enfield said. ‘How was it possible for this terrible man to be a friend of the man who wrote the cheque? Perhaps the terrible man is blackmailing him.’

Mr Utterson looked at the house again. Then he asked Mr Enfield a question. ‘The man who wrote the cheque,’ he asked, ‘does he live in that house?’

‘No,’ said Mr Enfield, ‘he doesn’t live there. I discovered that later. He lives somewhere else.’

‘So who actually lives in the house?’ Mr Utterson asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Mr Enfield said. ‘I didn’t want to ask too many questions. I don’t like asking questions. But I know that the strange man uses the house very often. I have seen him come in and go out.’

Mr Utterson was silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘I agree with you: it is best not to ask questions sometimes. But tell me, do you know the name of the strange man?’

‘Yes,’ answered Mr Enfield. ‘His name is Mr Hyde.’

‘What is he like?’ asked Mr Utterson.

‘He is small,’ said Mr Enfield, ‘and there is something ugly about him. I hated him the moment I saw him. So did everybody else that night.’

‘You say that he had a key to the door of this house?’ asked Mr Utterson. ‘Yes, he did,’ Mr Enfield replied. ‘He opened the door with a key.’

Mr Utterson looked sad. Then he said, ‘I have not asked you the name of the man who wrote the cheque. That is because I already know his name.’

Mr Utterson was unhappy after his walk with Richard Enfield. He came home, and ate his dinner. Then he went to his safe. He took out a large document. The document was Dr Jekyll’s will. Mr Utterson read the will carefully. Dr Jekyll’s orders were clear. He left his money to his friend, Mr Edward Hyde. Mr Utterson did not like this part of the will. There was another part of the will which he did not like. If Dr Jekyll disappeared or went away, Mr Hyde could have all his money.

‘There is a secret here,’ Mr Utterson decided. ‘Why does Dr Jekyll want to give his money to this Mr Hyde? Dr Jekyll is a good man, and this Mr Hyde is a terrible man. And what does ‘disappearance’ mean? Why does my friend think he is going to disappear? I will find out the truth.’

He decided to visit Dr Lanyon. Dr Lanyon was also a friend of Dr Jekyll. ‘Perhaps he knows something,’ thought Mr Utterson.

Dr Lanyon was happy to see Mr Utterson. They talked together for a while. Then Mr Utterson said, ‘We have all been friends for a long time. You and I are Dr Jekyll’s oldest friends, I suppose?’

‘I suppose we are,’ Dr Lanyon agreed. ‘But I don’t see Jekyll often these days.’

‘Oh?’ said Mr Utterson. ‘I thought you had the same interests. ‘

‘No!’ replied Dr Lanyon angrily. ‘I don’t like Henry Jekyll’s ideas about science. He has some very strange ideas. We don’t see each other often.’

‘Tell me,’ said Mr Utterson, ‘do you know a man called Hyde?’

Dr Lanyon thought for a moment.

‘Hyde?’ he asked. ‘No, I don’t know the name.’

Mr Utterson returned home after his visit to Dr Lanyon. He could not sleep that night. He was worried about his friend.

He remembered Mr Enfield’s story about Mr Hyde and the little girl.

‘I want to see this Mr Hyde!’ he decided. ‘I want to know about his friendship with Henry Jekyll.’

Mr Utterson went back to the old house very often now. He waited in the street, and he hoped to see Mr Hyde. He went there every day, but Mr Hyde never came.

One night Mr Utterson was in the street outside the old house.

He heard someone in the street. Then he saw a man. Mr Utterson followed him, and then spoke to him.

‘Are you Mr Hyde?’ he asked.

The man seemed frightened for a moment. Then he looked at Mr Utterson angrily.

‘I am Mr Hyde. What do you want?’

‘I see that you are going into this house,’ said Mr Utterson.

‘I am a friend of Dr Jekyll—perhaps you will ask me into the house?’

‘Dr Jekyll is not at home,’ Mr Hyde said.

‘I am glad we have met,’ Mr Utterson said. ‘I shall know you again. It may be useful.’

‘I am glad, we have met, too,’ said Mr Hyde. He gave Mr Utterson a piece of paper with his address written on it.

‘He is thinking of the will.’ Mr Utterson thought. ‘He is glad we met because of the will! That’s why he wants me to know where he lives.’

Mr Hyde entered the house, and closed the door behind him.

‘I don’t like that man!’ thought Mr Utterson. ‘There is something very strange about him. Poor Henry Jekyll, why have you got a friend like that?’

The lawyer walked to the end of the street, and turned the corner. The houses here were large and beautiful. Mr Utterson stopped and knocked at the door of one of the houses. A servant opened the door.

‘Good evening, Poole,’ Mr Utterson said. ‘I am looking for Dr Jekyll—is he at home?’

‘Please come in, sir,’ the servant said. ‘I will see if Dr Jekyll is at home.’

Poole came back after a few moments.

‘I am sorry, sir,’ he told Mr Utterson. ‘Dr Jekyll has gone out.’

‘I saw Mr Hyde go into the laboratory,’ said Mr Utterson. ‘Does he often come when Dr Jekyll is out?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Poole answered. ‘Mr Hyde has a key to the laboratory.’

‘Are Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde good friends?’ asked the lawyer.

‘They are very good friends, sir,’ Poole said. ‘We have orders to obey Mr Hyde when he comes to the laboratory.’

‘I have never met Mr Hyde at dinner here,’ the lawyer said.

‘No, sir,’ Poole agreed. ‘Mr Hyde never dines here. He never comes to this part of the house. He stays in the laboratory.’

Mr Utterson thanked the servant, and left the house. He was very sad.

‘Poor Henry Jekyll!’ he thought. ‘He lived badly when he was a young man. Mr Hyde must know some secret from the past. My friend is paying him to be quiet about the secret. My poor, poor friend— I will help him if I can!’

Two weeks later, Dr Jekyll invited some of his friends to dinner at his house. Mr Utterson was one of the guests. After the other guests had gone, Mr Utterson stayed to talk with his friend.

‘I want to talk to you about something important,’ the lawyer said. ‘It concerns your will, Jekyll.’

‘I know what you want to say, my friend,’ Dr Jekyll told him.

‘You’re not happy about my will, are you?’

‘I know something about Mr Hyde,’ Utterson said quietly.

‘People say terrible things about him.’

‘You do not understand,’ Dr Jekyll said. ‘You do not understand my position. It is very difficult for me—’

‘Jekyll!’ the lawyer interrupted I him. ‘You know me: we are old friends. If you are in trouble, tell me the truth. Perhaps I can help you.’

‘You’re a good friend, Utterson,’ Dr Jekyll said. ‘Thank you for your offer of help. But you cannot help me. I know you have seen Mr Hyde—he told me. I am interested in that man. I trust you to follow the orders in my will. Promise me that you will follow them.’

‘I will never like Mr Hyde.’ the lawyer said.

‘I don’t ask that,’ Dr Jekyll told his friend. ‘I ask only that you help him when I am not here.’

‘Very well,’ the lawyer said. ‘I will do what you want.’

One year passed. Then a terrible murder happened in London. The murder shocked people because it was very violent, and because the victim was an important man. Soon everybody was talking about it.

A young servant girl described what had happened. She lived in a house near the river. She had gone to bed at about eleven o’clock one night. She could not sleep, and she had got out of bed. She sat near the window for a long time. She saw an old man who was walking along the street. The old man had white hair. She also saw another, small man, walking towards the old man. When the two men met, the old man said something to the small man. He seemed to be asking a question. The girl could not hear the words he spoke, but she said that he spoke very politely. Then the girl recognised the small man. It was Mr Hyde. She knew him because he sometimes came to the house where she worked, to speak to her employer.

Mr Hyde was carrying a heavy stick in his hand. He did not answer the old man’s question. Suddenly he lifted his stick above his head, and began to hit the old man with it. He hit him again and again, and the old man fell to the ground. Then Mr Hyde attacked him where he lay on the ground. The girl was horrified at the violence of the attack, and she fainted.

It was two o’clock in the morning when the girl woke up from her faint.

She called the police immediately. The murderer had gone, but the old man was lying in the street. The police found a piece of the murderer’s stick in the street next to the old man’s body. When they searched the body, they also found the old man’s wallet and papers, and a letter.

The letter was addressed to Mr Utterson, the lawyer.

The police came to Mr Utterson’s house the next morning.

He became very serious when they told him about the murder.

‘I want to see the body,’ he said. ‘I can say nothing until I have seen the body.’

Mr Utterson went to the police station. The police had carried the body there.

‘Yes,’ said Mr Utterson, ‘I recognise this man. It is Sir Danvers Carew, the Member of Parliament.’

‘Sir Danvers Carew!’ the policeman said. ‘Is it possible?’ He looked at Mr Utterson. ‘This murder will be famous,’ he said.

‘Perhaps you can help us to catch the man, Mr Utterson?’

The policeman then told Mr Utterson what the girl had seen. Mr Utterson was unhappy when he heard the name of Hyde. He asked to look at the piece of the murderer’s stick. He recognised it immediately.

‘This Mr Hyde,’ he asked the policeman, ‘does the girl say that he was a small man?’

‘She says that he is a small, ugly man,’ the policeman said.

‘Come with me,’ Mr Utterson said, ‘I’ll take you to Mr Hyde’s house. I know where he lives.’

Mr Utterson and the policeman went to the part of the city where Mr Hyde lived. It was a dirty, poor part of the city.

They knocked on the door of Mr Hyde’s house. An old woman with an evil face opened the door. She told them that Mr Hyde was out. She explained that Mr Hyde had come in very late the night before. Then he had gone out again.

‘We want to search his rooms,’ the lawyer said. ‘This man is Inspector Newcomen of Scotland Yard.’

‘What has Mr Hyde done?’ the old woman asked. ‘Why are the police looking for him?’

The old woman showed the two men Mr Hyde’s rooms.

They were comfortable rooms, with elegant furniture and pictures. The rooms were untidy, however. They found clothes on the floor, and part of Mr Hyde’s stick behind the door.

There was also part of a cheque-book in the fire-place.

Someone had tried to burn it. Mr Utterson and the inspector went to the bank. They discovered that Mr Hyde’s bank account contained thousands of pounds.

‘We will find him, sir,’ the inspector told Mr Utterson. ‘He cannot escape the police. We have the evidence we need. We can prove that he is the murderer. We have his stick, and we know where his bank is. We will wait for him to go to the bank. We will put up pictures of him all over the city.’

It was not easy to find pictures of Mr Hyde. He had no family, and he had no friends. There was no photograph of him anywhere. The people who had seen him could not describe him.

Everybody agreed that he was small and ugly —but no one could describe him accurately.

It was late in the afternoon when Mr Utterson arrived at Dr Jekyll’s house. The servant Poole took the lawyer through the main part of the house to the laboratory. It was the first time that Mr Utterson had been to Dr Jekyll’s laboratory. He looked at the scientific apparatus with curiosity.

‘Have you heard the terrible news?’ he asked his friend.

Dr Jekyll looked very unhappy.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘everybody is talking about this murder.’

‘Listen to me,’ said the lawyer slowly. ‘Carew was my client. You are also my client. I want to understand exactly what has happened. Are you hiding Mr Hyde?’

‘I will never see Hyde again!’ the doctor cried. ‘I promise you, my friend, I have finished with that man. But he does not need my help. He has gone, and no one will find him.’

‘You seem very certain,’ Mr Utterson said.

‘I am certain,’ Dr Jekyll told him. ‘No one will see Hyde again. But there is something else. I need your advice. I have received a letter, and I don’t know what to do with it. Will you advise me?’

‘Show me this letter,’ the lawyer said.

Dr Jekyll gave the lawyer a letter. It was written by Edward Hyde. In his letter Mr Hyde thanked Dr Jekyll for his friendship. He said that he was sorry for what he had done, and that he was going away.

‘Where is the envelope?’ asked Mr Utterson.

‘I burnt the envelope,’ Dr Jekyll told him, ‘but the letter was not posted.

Someone came to the house and left it here.’

‘I shall think about the letter,’ Mr Utterson said. ‘One other thing. Was it Mr Hyde who made you write the will?’

Dr Jekyll looked at his friend. He said nothing, but he nodded his head.

‘I thought it was him!’ the lawyer cried. ‘He planned to murder you. He wanted your money.’

When he was leaving the house, Mr Utterson spoke to Poole for a moment.

‘Someone came with a letter for Dr Jekyll today,’ he said.

‘What did the man look like?’

‘No one came with a letter, sir,’ the servant told him.

‘Then the letter arrived at the laboratory, and not at the house,’ Mr Utterson thought. ‘That is why Poole did not see the person who left it.’

That evening Mr Utterson sat with Mr Guest, his head-clerk and friend.

‘This murder of Sir Danvers Carew is very sad,’ the lawyer said.

‘It is, indeed,’ Mr Guest agreed. ‘It is terrible. The man who killed him must be mad.’

‘You are an expert on crime and detection,’ Mr Utterson said.

‘I have a letter from Mr Hyde. Please look at it, and tell me about the writer of the letter. Do you think he is really mad?’

Mr Utterson took out Mr Hyde’s letter, and passed it to Mr Guest.

Mr Guest studied the letter for a few minutes. Then he said, ‘Well, sir, the writer of this letter is not mad. But his writing is strange. I know this writing, I am sure I do.’

Mr Guest picked up a letter from Dr Jekyll. He put it next to the letter from Mr Hyde.

‘I thought so!’ he cried. ‘The same man wrote these two letters —I am sure of it.’

‘I don’t think we should talk about this to anyone,’ Mr Utterson said.

‘No, sir,’ Mr Guest agreed. ‘I understand.’

When he was alone again, Mr Utterson put the letter from Mr Hyde into his safe. He was very unhappy.

‘Henry Jekyll forged a letter for a murderer!’ he thought.

‘What have you done, my old friend? And why are you protecting Hyde?’

Time passed, and the police continued their search for Mr Hyde. They offered a lot of money for information about him.

They found out about his past. He had done many bad things, and no one liked him. But they could not discover where he was. There was no trace of him.

Mr Utterson began to think that his friend Jekyll was now safe. He was happy that Mr Hyde had disappeared. He saw that a new life was beginning for Dr Jekyll. The doctor saw his friends again, and he seemed cheerful and contented. For two months Dr Jekyll saw his friends nearly every day.

On the eighth of January Mr Utterson had dinner at Dr Jekyll’s house. Dr Lanyon was one of the guests. Mr Utterson called at his friend’s house again on the twelfth of January. Poole said that his employer was not at home. The lawyer returned on the fourteenth.

‘The doctor is at home,’ Poole told him, ‘but he cannot see anyone. He is ill.’

Mr Utterson came back the next day, but again he could not see Jekyll. He began to worry that something had happened. He decided to visit Dr Lanyon. Mr Utterson was very surprised when he saw Dr Lanyon. The doctor looked very ill. He was white and very thin.

‘He is dying,’ Mr Utterson thought. ‘He is a doctor. He must know he is dying. How sad it is!’

‘I have had a terrible shock,’ Dr Lanyon told him. ‘I shall never be well again. I will be dead in a few weeks.’

‘Jekyll is ill, too,’ Mr Utterson told him. ‘I have been to his house, but Poole says he is ill. Have you seen him?’

Dr Lanyon’s face changed. ‘I will not speak about that man!’

He said. ‘I do not want you to speak about that man to me. Never mention his name to me again. To me, Jekyll is a dead man!’

‘We have all been friends for a long time,’ the lawyer said. ‘Can we do nothing for Jekyll?’

‘We can do nothing for him,’ Dr Lanyon said. ‘Ask him yourself.’

‘He will not see me,’ Mr Utterson said.

Dr Lanyon looked at the lawyer very seriously.

‘When I am dead, Utterson,’ he said, ‘you may learn the truth of this matter. I cannot tell you now. Please don’t talk to me anymore about Jekyll.’

When Mr Utterson got home, he wrote a letter to Dr Jekyll.

He asked what was wrong with his friend, and he asked him why he had quarreled with Dr Lanyon.

The next day he received a reply from Dr Jekyll. In his letter the doctor told him that he had decided not to see anyone in the future. He said that he could not explain the quarrel with Dr Lanyon.

‘You must allow me to be alone,’ he wrote. ‘I have done a terrible thing, and this is my punishment.’

Mr Utterson did not understand Dr Jekyll’s letter. Surely his friend was safe, now that Mr Hyde was gone? Why did he talk about ‘a terrible thing’ and ‘punishment’? Mr Utterson began to think his friend was mad.

Dr Lanyon died about three weeks later, and Mr Utterson went to the funeral. He was sad at the loss of his old friend.

The night after the funeral Mr Utterson received a large envelope. The writing was Dr Lanyon’s. It said:

‘PRIVATE: for Mr Utterson.’

The lawyer opened the envelope.

It contained a second envelope. The writing on the second envelope said:

‘Open after the death or disappearance of Dr Henry Jekyll.’

‘Disappearance?’ thought Mr Utterson. ‘What does that mean?’

Then he remembered the words of the doctor’s will. There was something about ‘disappearance’ in the will, as well. Mr Utterson wanted to open the mysterious letter, to discover the truth. But he was a lawyer, and he decided to obey Dr Lanyon’s instructions. He put the letter in his safe.

Mr Utterson went to Dr Jekyll’s several times, but he never succeeded in seeing Dr Jekyll. Poole always told him the same thing:

‘The doctor is in the laboratory, sir. He will not see anyone.’

It seemed that the doctor spent most of his time in the laboratory now. He slept there sometimes, according to Poole. Soon Mr Utterson stopped going to his friend’s house.

It was useless. Dr Jekyll did not want to see him. The doctor did not want his help.

One Sunday afternoon, Mr Utterson was walking with Mr Enfield, as usual. When they came to the old house Mr Enfield said, ‘That story is finished. No one will ever see Mr Hyde again.’

‘I hope not,’ Mr Utterson told him. ‘But did I ever tell you that I saw Mr Hyde once? You remember that you said you hated him when you saw him? I had the same feeling myself.’

‘Everybody who saw Hyde hated him,’ Mr Enfield replied.

‘But you never told me that this old house is Dr Jekyll’s laboratory—I discovered that later.’

‘So you know that now, do you?’ said the lawyer. ‘I am worried about Jekyll. Let’s take a look, shall we?’

The two men entered the garden of the house. They looked up, and they saw Dr Jekyll. He was sitting at one of the windows.

Mr Utterson walked forward.

‘Jekyll!’ he cried. ‘I hope you are better.’

‘I am not well,’ the doctor told him. ‘I will die soon, I’m sure I will.’

‘You need fresh air, my friend,’ Mr Utterson said. ‘Come out for a walk with us. It will do you good.’

‘I would like to, really I would,’ Dr Jekyll said. ‘But it is impossible. I am pleased to see you, Utterson. I wish I could ask you into the house to sit with me, but I cannot. The house is untidy.’

‘We’ll stay and talk to you from here,’ Mr Utterson told him.

‘I was going to suggest that myself,’ Dr Jekyll said with a smile. ‘That would make me happy.’

Just as the doctor spoke these friendly words his face changed.

The smile of welcome disappeared from it, and an expression of horror came over it. Mr Utterson saw the change in his friend’s face—and then Dr Jekyll closed the window with a bang.

Mr Utterson and Mr Enfield walked away from the house. They did not speak for a moment. Then Mr Utterson turned to his cousin and said, ‘God forgive us! God forgive us!’

Mr Utterson was at home one evening, when Dr Jekyll’s servant came to the house.

‘Good evening, Poole,’ the lawyer said. ‘What can I do for you?’ He looked at the servant for a moment.

Poole was very white and frightened.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Mr Utterson.

‘Mr Utterson,’ Poole said, ‘there is something wrong at Dr Jekyll’s house. I am very worried.’

Mr Utterson gave the man a glass of wine.

‘Drink this,’ he ordered, ‘and try to be calm. Tell me everything. Why are you afraid?’

‘I think something has happened to the doctor,’ Poole said.

‘Something has happened to Dr Jekyll? What do you mean?’ demanded Mr Utterson.

‘I want you to come to the house, sir,’ Poole said. ‘Then you can see for yourself, sir.’

Mr Utterson walked to Dr Jekyll’s house with the servant. It was a cold, March night. The wind was strong. The streets were empty, and Mr Utterson was nervous. He was sure something bad had happened. The two men reached the house. Poole knocked on the door.

Another servant opened the door, and Mr Utterson entered the house. All Dr Jekyll’s servants were standing in the hall —they looked frightened. One of the servant girls began to cry.

‘Be quiet!’ Poole told her angrily. Then he turned to Mr Utterson. ‘I’m sorry, sir, they’re all afraid,’ he explained.

‘Will you come with me, sir? I want you to hear something. Please be very quiet.’

The servant led Mr Utterson through the house, to the laboratory. Then he spoke again.

‘If Dr Jekyll asks you to come into the laboratory, you must not go.’

Poole knocked on the door of the laboratory, and called out, ‘Mr Utterson is here, Dr Jekyll—he wants to see you, sir.’

A voice answered from inside the laboratory, ‘Tell him I cannot see anyone.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ replied Poole. He then took Mr Utterson back into the main part of the house. When they arrived he asked the lawyer, ‘Now Mr Utterson, tell me. Did that voice sound like Dr Jekyll?’

‘His voice is different, certainly,’ Mr Utterson admitted.

‘Different!’ repeated Poole. ‘I have known Dr Jekyll for twenty years, and I tell you, sir, that was not his voice. Dr Jekyll was murdered eight days ago. I heard him cry out eight days ago—but who is in that room, and why he stays there, I don’t know.’

‘This has no sense, Poole,’ Mr Utterson said. ‘Why should anyone kill Dr Jekyll, and stay in the same room with the body? You must be wrong!’

‘There is more, sir,’ said the servant. ‘Every day for a week the person in the laboratory has left notes for me to go to the chemist to buy some kind of medicine. Every day there are more notes. I have gone to every chemist in the city. There is always something wrong with the medicine.’

‘Show me one of these notes,’ Mr Utterson ordered.

Poole took a letter out of his pocket, and gave it to Mr Utterson. The note said:

Dr Jekyll presents his compliments to Maw the chemist’s. The sample you sent me is useless. Dr Jekyll needs a sample of the highest quality-like the one he bought from you in the year 18-.Please send this immediately. ‘At the bottom of the note was written ‘I’m desperate—send me some of the good stuff! ‘

‘I have seen the way Dr Jekyll writes,’ Mr Utterson said.

‘This seems to be the doctor’s writing. Do you agree?’

‘I don’t know, sir,’ Poole said. ‘Writing isn’t important —I’ve seen him! I’ve seen him, I tell you! I came to the laboratory door one day, and the door was open. I saw a man outside the laboratory. The man’s face was covered. When he saw me, he ran back into the laboratory and closed the door.

That man was not Dr Jekyll, I’m sure of it! It wasn’t the doctor!’

‘You cannot be sure, Poole,’ the lawyer told him. ‘Perhaps the doctor’s illness has changed his face. Perhaps that’s why he needs the medicine.’

‘No, sir,’ said Poole firmly. ‘Dr Jekyll is a tall man—and the man I saw outside the laboratory was small. It was not the doctor!’

‘Very well,’ Mr Utterson said. ‘We will go to the laboratory.

We have to find out the truth of this. We will break down the door of the laboratory.’

Poole and the lawyer picked up an axe and a metal bar. They walked towards the laboratory. Mr Utterson stopped for a moment.

‘Poole,’ he said, ‘we must be honest with each other. You have not told me everything. The man you saw outside the laboratory —who was it?’

‘I think it was Mr Hyde, sir,’ replied the servant. ‘I did not see him well. But I think it was him.’

‘I believe you,’ Mr Utterson said. ‘I think it was Mr Hyde. I fear that Dr Jekyll is dead. But I don’t understand why Hyde is staying in the laboratory. I don’t understand that at all.’

When the two men reached the laboratory door, they stopped again. Then Mr Utterson called out to the person behind the door.

‘Jekyll! This is Utterson. Open the door. I must see you.’

A voice from behind the door answered the lawyer’s command.

‘No, Utterson, no!’

‘That’s not the voice of Henry Jekyll,’ the lawyer said to Poole. ‘Let’s break down the door!’

Poole hit the door of the laboratory with the axe. They heard a frightened cry from the other side. The door was strong, and Poole hit it five times before it opened.

Mr Utterson looked into the room. A man’s body lay on the floor. It was Edward Hyde. He was dressed in the doctor’s clothes.

‘Hyde is dead,’ Mr Utterson said to Poole. ‘We will now look for the body of Dr Jekyll.’

The two men looked everywhere in the laboratory for the doctor, but they found nothing.

‘Perhaps he ran away,’ Mr Utterson said at last. He went to the door that opened onto the street. The door was locked, and the key was on the floor. It was impossible for someone to have left the laboratory.

They returned to the laboratory, and searched carefully. ‘This is the medicine which Dr Jekyll ordered from the chemist,’ said Poole, ‘and here are the doctor’s papers.’

Mr Utterson took his friend’s papers, and began to read them.

One of them was a new will. The new will gave all the doctor’s money to Mr Utterson.

‘I don’t understand it!’ Mr Utterson said to Poole. ‘Hyde has been here in the laboratory for a week. Why didn’t he destroy this new will?’

Then the lawyer picked up another paper.

‘This is a letter from Dr Jekyll!’ he shouted to Poole. ‘And look at the date on it—he wrote it today! He must still be alive, Poole.’

The lawyer read the letter quickly. It said:

My dear Utterson,

I will not be here when you read this letter. I know the end is near. I want you to read the letter which Dr Lanyon sent you, then I want you to read my confession.

Your unhappy friend, Henry Jekyll

There is another paper here,’ Poole told Mr Utterson. He passed a large document to the lawyer.

‘Do not talk about these papers to anyone,’ Mr Utterson told the servant. ‘I will read them and then I will decide what to do. I will return here before midnight. Then we will call the police.’

When Mr Utterson arrived home, he went to his safe. He took out Dr Lanyon’s letter. He looked at the envelope:

‘Open after the death or disappearance of Dr Henry Jekyll.’

‘I don’t think Henry Jekyll is dead,’ thought Mr Utterson. ‘But he has certainly disappeared. Now is the time to read this letter!’

Mr Utterson opened the letter, and began to read. This is what the letter said:

Four days ago, on the ninth of January, I received a strange letter from Dr Jekyll. You must read this letter if you want to understand what happened afterwards.

Dr Jekyll’s letter to Dr Lanyon was also in the envelope, and the lawyer read it. It said:

Dear Lanyon,

You are one of my oldest friends. We have quarreled, but I still see you as a friend. I am writing now to ask you to do something for me. It is very important.

I want you to go to my house tonight. My servant Poole will be there. He knows you’re coming. You and Poole must break down the door of my laboratory. Go into the laboratory alone and from the fourth drawer of the cabinet take the powders and a book that you will see there. When you have the powders and the book go home immediately.

At midnight a man will come to your house. Please give him the things from my laboratory. This is all I ask you to do. If you want an explanation, the man will give you one.

Please do what I ask, Lanyon. It will save your old friend,

Henry Jekyll

Dr Lanyon’s letter continued:

I thought Dr Jekyll was mad but I decided that I should do what he asked, all the same.

I went to the doctor’s house that night and Poole and I went to the laboratory. We broke down the door and I entered. I found the cabinet and took out the drawer with the powders and the boot and I took it home with me. While I waited for the man to come at midnight, I looked at the book: It seemed to be a record of the doctor’s experiments. I did not understand what the doctor’s experiments meant.

At midnight there was a knock at the door of my house. I went to the door and opened it. There was a small man standing outside.

‘Are you Dr Jekyll’s friend?’ I asked him. He moved his head. I asked him into the house. He was an ugly little man and I did not like him. I remember that his clothes were too big for him. The man was very impatient.

‘Where are the powders? ‘He asked me. ‘Have you got them?’

‘Be patient,’ I told him. ‘Sit down for a moment.

‘I am sorry,’ the man said. “Dr Jekyll sent me here. ‘The business is urgent.’

I gave the powders to the man. He mixed them together in a grass, and they changed colour. The man then looked at me.

‘You now have a choice,’ he told me. ‘I can leave the house now, and you will never know what this business is about. Or I can stay, and you will know everything. If I stay, you will see something new and very terrible.’

‘Stay,’ I replied. ‘I want to see the end of this mystery.’

‘Very well,’ the man said. ‘But remember, Lanyon. What you see now is a secret.’

He then drank the contents of the grass. He cried out, and almost fell to the floor. Then his body began to grow and change. The next moment I covered my face in horror.

‘No!’ I cried out. ”No!’

The small man who drank the powders had disappeared. There in front of me, stood Dr Jekyll!

He told me the whole terrible story, and even now it frightens me. What he told me made me ill. I have not slept since he told me. His story was wicked, and I will not tell it to you, Utterson. I will just tell you one thing that I learnt from Dr Jekyll: the small man who came to my house that night was Edward Hyde, the murderer.

Hastie Lanyon

Mr Utterson put down Dr Lanyon’s letter. He picked up the paper from Dr Jekyll’s laboratory, and began to read. This is what he read:

I, Henry Jekyll, was born in 18. I had money, I was intelligent, and I liked to work. My future seemed happy and rich.

When I was young I wanted to be respected by my friends. I pretended to be a very serious man. I was not like other young men, who drink together and enjoy themselves. I enjoyed myself, but I kept my pleasures a secret from others. In public I was a good man—privately, I was a bad one.

I studied science, and I became certain that all human beings are like me. Everyone has two parts—a good part, and an evil part. No one can be happy because these two parts of nature fight against each other. In my studies I tried to separate these two parts. I wanted to create two identities. One identity would be for the good part of myself. The other identity would be for the evil part. I thought each identity would be happy: the good part would be completely good, and the evil part would be completely evil.

I worked for many years to find out how to create these new identities.

I bought some special powders from a chemist in the city. Then, one night I mixed the powders together. I drank the mixture, and immediately I felt ill. Suddenly I was a different man. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was younger and smaller, and I was completely wicked. Nothing was important to me, except pleasure. I had become Edward Hyde! I drank another glass of the mixture, and Edward Hyde disappeared—instantly I became Dr Jekyll again!

I could now change whenever I wanted. The well-known and respected Dr Jekyll could become Edward Hyde. Edward Hyde could do things that the good doctor was not allowed to do. I began to like the new identity I had created for myself.

At first Edward Hyde was happy just to enjoy himself, but soon he began to do terrible things. Dr Jekyll was often terrified by the things that Hyde did. The doctor could do nothing.

Jekyll and Hyde were different people.

Soon I realised that Edward Hyde was dangerous. He might do something that would damage the doctor’s reputation. I remember the night when Hyde walked over the body of the little girl. When he had to find money to pay the girl’s family, he came to the doctor’s house. I decided to give Hyde a separate bank account, and to give him his own house. I prepared the will which you disliked so much, Utterson. I thought I was safe.

About two months before the murder of Sir Danvers Carew, a strange thing happened. I took the powders as usual, and became Edward Hyde. I went out into the city, and returned home to sleep. When I woke up, I knew something was wrong.

Then I looked at my hands. Dr Jekyll’s hands are large, but the hands I saw were small. Then I understood: they were Edward Hyde’s hands! I had gone to bed as Henry Jekyll and had woken up as Hyde! I ran to the laboratory, and took some more of the mixture. In a few minutes I was Dr Jekyll again. Soon I understood that Hyde was stronger than Dr Jekyll. It became difficult to change back from Hyde to Dr Jekyll.

Sometimes the powders did not work. I knew that I must choose between the two identities. I decided to be Dr Jekyll. For two months I followed my choice. I worked, I saw my friends, and I began to be happy again. But every day I thought about Hyde. I missed his life of pleasures—I missed the excitement of being Hyde.

One day I drank the powders again. This time, when Hyde came, he was angry. That was the night that he murdered Sir Danvers Carew. Hyde enjoyed the violence of the murder, but he was afraid of the police. He came back to the laboratory, and drank the powders.

I, Henry Jekyll, remembered what Hyde had done. I was terrified. I swore that I would never take the powders again.

Edward Hyde was finished forever!

For a while I lived as Dr Jekyll. I worked, I saw my friends, I thought I was safe from Hyde. One day I went to the park. I sat there, thinking about my life.

‘I am a good man,’ I told myself. I looked at the people around me. ‘I am a better man than most of them,’ I thought.

At that instant, I suddenly felt ill: then I felt a change in myself. I looked down -I had become Hyde once more!