by Matt Ferraz
“Look what you’ve done!” he said, looking around at his ruined lab. “Do you have any idea of what all of this cost? More than your carcass, when I’m finished with you!”
Hyde held the syringe above his head, like a murderer with a knife ready to stab someone. My options were limited now. Maybe, if this had still been Dr Jekyll, he would have let me go, but the little man in front of me wasn’t going to do that. My only chance was to kick him, hard enough to make him unconscious. This qualified as self-defence. But how would I get out of the laboratory after that?
At that moment, someone knocked at a door at the other end of the lab. “Dr Jekyll!” said the voice of the butler. “Is everything all right in there?”
“Yes, Poole!” said Mr Hyde, mimicking the doctor’s voice, which he must have rehearsed many times before. “I told you to never disturb me in the lab!”
“I’m sorry, sir,” said the butler. “But the police are here. There’s a man saying you stole his horse.”
We looked at each other while Mr Hyde tried to think of what to do next. He gestured to me to stay still and looked for a flask amongst the mess I had made of his lab. He finally found an unbroken one and filled it with some of the liquid from his syringe. The transformation was quick.
“Stay still, my friend,” he said, his eyes on me. “You don’t want anything bad happening to your old master, do you?”
He turned out the lights and walked to the door, where his butler waited for him. I could see Jerry through the crack in the door, but he wasn’t looking in my direction.
“Good heavens, sir, are you well?” asked the butler.
“I’ve had quite a night,” said Dr Jekyll. “Good to see you again, constable.”
“Dr Jekyll, we meet again,” said the voice of a stranger. “I don’t enjoy having to visit a man like you this often, but you are making some questionable friendships.”
“I’m telling you, it was him!” said Jerry. “It wasn’t Mr Hyde.”
“Let me do the talking,” said the constable. “Now, Dr Jekyll, this man says Mr Hyde took his cab last night, and then sent you to his house to check on his horse. Is that true?”
“I can’t answer for Edward,” said Dr Jekyll. “But I’ve never met this man in my life.”
“That is a lie!” yelled Jerry. “I saw you twice!”
“Very well,” said Dr Jekyll. “Maybe I don’t remember you. One doesn’t pay attention to the face of a cabbie.”
“Let’s get this over with,” said the constable, sounding tired. “Do you know where his horse is?”
I waited for the answer, but it took about a minute for Dr Jekyll to say something. “Fine,” he replied. “He’s in there. Edward thought it would be funny to play a prank. The stupid beast ruined my lab. You can see for yourself.”
He opened the door and the four men, including the butler, entered the laboratory. Dr Jekyll turned on the light for them to see the mess.
“Jack, you’re here!” exclaimed Jerry, running in my direction.
“Be careful not to cut yourself!” said the constable, a short man with a bushy moustache and sad eyes.
“Jack, my boy!”
The touch of Jerry’s hand on my face had never felt so warm and cosy. I wanted to tell him everything that had happened that night, about the transformation and Dr Jekyll’s experiments. But, most of all, I wanted to tell him to get out of there, to leave that laboratory and never lay eyes on those people again. If I could convince him of that, it would be enough.
“Is this Mr Hyde’s idea of fun?” asked the constable.
“He has a great sense of humour,” said Dr Jekyll. “I was working all night and went out for a few minutes, and, when I got back, there was a horse in my lab.”
“You’re lying!” said Jerry. “You came to my house and pretended to be a veterinarian.”
The constable rubbed his eyes. “Do you have any witnesses, Mr Barker?” he asked.
“No, but…”
“Then it’s your word against Dr Jekyll’s,” interrupted the constable, turning to the latter. “As I told you, doctor, this isn’t pleasant at all. A man in your position shouldn’t keep these sorts of friendships.”
Jekyll smiled. “Edward Hyde is a great man,” he said. “He’s just immature.”
“Immature,” repeated the constable. “I think we’ll have to let this one slide. Mr Barker, please take your horse and let’s go.”
Jerry took a deep breath. He had never been a violent man, but at that moment I could see him punching Dr Jekyll in the face. Instead, we walked out of the building.
The constable followed us out onto the street. “I’m sorry, Mr Barker. I wish I could do more.”
“These rich people always do what they want,” said Jerry.
“I wish it was that simple,” said the constable. “Let me tell you something confidential. We’ve been after this Mr Hyde for a while. He’s a violent and dangerous man who somehow became good friends with one of the most respectable physicians in London. We’ve had many complaints against Hyde, but every time we try to catch him, the bastard disappears and Dr Jekyll shows up to write a few cheques and apologize for him.”
Jerry was baffled. “Can’t you arrest him?”
“We will, in due time,” said the constable. “But we need a serious accusation to put him behind bars. Something Jekyll can’t make amends for. And it has to be worse than stealing a horse and then returning him to his owner.”
“This is a strange way of doing things,” said Jerry.
The constable shrugged. “Sometimes that’s all we can do.”
The sun was rising in the east as Jerry and I made our way home. “I’m sorry for letting that man getting so close to you,” he said. “It won’t happen again.”
Time went by, and we never saw Dr Jekyll or Mr Hyde again. I still expected him to show up the first couple of evenings after the events of that night, carrying that syringe with his strange drug. Sometimes, when we were driving around town, I thought I saw one of them walking down the street. That didn’t last, though. London is huge, and the chances of stumbling into them were minimal.
Then one day I heard Jerry talking to one of his fellow cabbies at our station. My master was reading the newspaper, and although I couldn’t read what was written in it, I could see the surprise in his face.
“Can you believe this?” he said. “I took that man for a ride once. He came to my home and kidnapped Jack for the night. Who could imagine that?”
And that was the last I ever heard of Dr Henry Jekyll and Mr Edward Hyde.
THE END
