‘I should say so!’ I blurted out, unable to control my reaction to such uncivilised behaviour in the age of Victoria.
Utterson continued, ignoring my comment. ‘The ruffian might have escaped, for his pace was swift, but Enfield’s stride was longer and he collared him at the corner. By that time the girl’s family had arrived and the local physician was summoned, and though by God’s grace the child was unharmed, their anger was such that they might have fallen upon the offender and torn him to pieces then and there had not my cousin held them back through sheer force of reason. This was more out of respect for human life upon his part than from any sympathy towards the ruffian, who seemed to inspire a strange revulsion in whoever glimpsed his face beneath the lamplight, including Enfield himself. A blackguard of the most obvious sort, this fellow, was the impression I got.
‘In lieu of his life, or at the very least a session in court, the ruffian agreed to surrender the sum of a hundred pounds to the girl’s family, and led them presently to the door of a shabby building on a by-street in one of the city’s busier quarters, whereupon he asked his escort to wait whilst he produced a key and went in. Some moments later he returned with a purse containing ten pounds in gold and a cheque for the balance, drawn upon the account of a man well known to Enfield. Of course they didn’t trust it, so at the ruffian’s suggestion they spent the night in my cousin’s chambers until the bank opened in the morning and they were able to cash the cheque without incident. After which the fellow was released.’
‘An ugly episode,’ said Holmes, ‘but hardly illuminating. What is its connexion with the matter which we are discussing?’
‘The strangest, Mr. Holmes.’ Utterson chewed the end of his cigar nervously. It was plain that he was keeping himself in check with an effort. ‘When the story was told to me, we were standing across the street from the very door through which the ruffian had passed to fetch the money and the cheque. Enfield pointed it out. It is a side entrance to the home of Dr. Henry Jekyll, and the cheque was made out upon his account to the order of the bearer, Edward Hyde.’
‘Good Lord!’ I cried.
Holmes, who had listened to Utterson’s story thus far in the somnolent attitude which he assumed whenever the facts of a new case were stated to him, sat up suddenly, steely eyes flashing. For the space of a heartbeat he and the lawyer stared at each Other in silence.
‘Dismiss the cab, Watson,’ said Holmes finally.
Two
SHERLOCK HOLMES ACCEPTS A CASE
Protest upon my part was out of the question. I knew my friend too well to waste breath attempting to divert him from the path down which his natural inclination had led him; instead, I went downstairs, persuaded the burly cab driver to help me carry our bags back up to our rooms, and sent him on his way with a half-sovereign for his troubles. By that time Holmes had kindled a cheery fire in the grate and relieved Utterson of his coat and hat, pausing along the way to pour the lawyer a draught of our very best port. Our visitor tasted it, but it might as well have been the coarsest ale for all the enjoyment he appeared to derive from it. Having thus seen to his guest’s needs, Holmes remained standing and began poking shag into the bowl of his cherry-wood pipe with such industry that one might have thought it the most important activity which he had yet undertaken.
‘Tell me, Mr. Utterson,’ said he, frowning at his handiwork, ‘how far have you progressed in your own investigations? Come, come, do not play the innocent with me; I never knew a lawyer who was not at heart a detective — nor vice versa, for that matter.’ He raised his eyes from the pipe to those of our visitor. They were piercing. Gone was the languorous figure of a few moments before; he had shed that cocoon and spread his wings to swoop down upon whatever piece of solid evidence he could find which would bear his weight. At such moments the force of his personality was astounding. Utterson fidgeted beneath his fierce scrutiny.
‘I can see the futility of attempting to conceal anything from you,’ said he, setting down his glass. ‘Very well. Yes, I did investigate, for as Henry Jekyll’s solicitor I owed him that much, though I feared that you’d accuse me of meddling. I went first to Dr. Hastie Lanyon of Cavendish Square, a mutual friend — I should venture to say that apart from myself he is the oldest friend that Jekyll has. I was, however, surprised to learn that Lanyon and he had not spoken for some ten years, a rift having opened between them over some difference of opinion regarding a scientific subject. Of Edward Hyde he could tell me nothing.’
‘One moment,’ Holmes interjected. ‘Did he not mention the specific difference which created the rift?’
Utterson shook his head. ‘He gave no indication, other than to condemn Jekyll’s theories as “unscientific balderdash.” The very memory of it made him livid with rage.’
‘Interesting. But continue.’
‘There is little else to relate, save for my meeting with Hyde.’
Holmes paused in the midst of lighting his pipe. ‘A meeting, you say? When? Where?’
‘It was brief but memorable.’ The lawyer shuddered and sipped hastily at his wine. ‘That scene and its aftermath are the reason I spent most of today wandering the streets of London, as you were so quick to perceive. I was debating with myself over what should be my next course of action.
‘After I left Lanyon, I became convinced that the only way to get to the bottom of this mystery was to force an interview with the principal figure involved. To that end, I set up a vigil at the door which Enfield had pointed out, that which I knew led to the old dissecting-room which Henry Jekyll used for a laboratory, and the only place at which I could reasonably expect to encounter Hyde sooner or later. It was a lonesome occupation, that wait, and I think that I can say with some certainty that it has rid me of any aspirations which I might have entertained towards becoming a detective.
‘I fancy that I became a familiar figure to passersby — particularly one young lady of dubious occupation who never tired of attempting to ply her trade with me, no matter how many times I declined the offer. At any rate, it was past ten o’clock on a clear, cold night — last night, if I may put this account into some perspective as regards time — when my patience was finally rewarded and I beheld the object of my attention.
‘I heard first his footstep across the street, and I knew immediately that it was he, for I had witnessed all manner of gaits during my days and nights of waiting, and there was not one of them which came close to this odd, springing walk. I drew back into the shadows. No sooner had I done so than this smallish, plainly-dressed creature rounded the corner and strode across the thoroughfare in the direction of the door, fishing inside his trouser pocket as he went. At the door he drew out a key and was about to insert it in the lock when I approached him.
‘My hand upon his shoulder startled him. He gripped his cane like a weapon, and, though his face and expression were hidden in shadow beneath the brim of his dull top hat, I had every reason to believe that he intended to use the heavy crook upon me. This was a natural enough reaction, the streets of London being what they are at night; nevertheless, I was glad of my own stick, for he seemed quite capable of carrying out his unspoken threat. I introduced myself hastily and made mention of our mutual acquaintanceship with Henry Jekyll.
‘He acknowledged his identity in a strange, repressed guttural, but his face remained in concealment. I asked if he might admit me. He said that that would be unnecessary, as Jekyll was not at home. He then asked how it was that I recognised him. I ignored the question and requested that he show me his face, that I might know him again. There was a moment’s hesitation and then, defiantly, he swung about so that the glow of the corner gas lamp fell full upon his countenance.’
He sipped again at his wine, as if the memory had chilled him suddenly. ‘It was a face which I do not care to see again, Mr. Holmes. I never met a man whom I so disliked — nay, hated — upon sight alone. It seemed that he was inflicted with some ghastly deformity, and yet if you pressed me I would be helpless to n
ame just what it was about him which was not right. I would be hard put to describe him, yet I would recognise him again in an instant. All I can say is that I was moved to absolute revulsion.’
‘If I may say so, those are strange words coming from a lawyer,’ observed Holmes, drawing at his pipe.
‘Edward Hyde is the sort which inspires strange words,’ Utterson returned. ‘In spite of my reaction, however, I managed to mutter some inanity to acknowledge the small favour which he had done me in showing himself, to which he replied — quite irrelevantly, I thought — by supplying me with his address in Soho. This caused me no little concern, for I divined from it that he was informing me where he could be reached in the matter of Jekyll’s will. It was as if he expected to collect his inheritance at any time. Again he asked me how I knew him; I gave him to believe that Jekyll had described him to me.
‘I was unprepared for his reaction. He flew into a rage and accused me of lying. I stammered some sort of defence, but before I could finish he unlocked the door, swept inside, and slammed the door in my face, leaving me standing alone upon the pavement.
‘I remained there a moment or two, and then, determined still to plumb the depths of the case, went round the corner and knocked upon Jekyll’s door. This section of the building, which fronts upon a busier street, is the more respectable for its well-kept appearance, in sharp contrast with the homely facade of the adjoining block. I was admitted by the butler, Poole, who informed me that his master was out. I mentioned seeing Hyde go in by the old dissecting-room door and asked if he did this often. Poole said that he did, and that Jekyll had left standing instructions for all the servants to obey him. The servants, he added, see little of the fellow save when they meet by chance in the rear of the house; it seems that Hyde is not in the habit of dining there, nor of remaining long when he visits. And those, Mr. Holmes, are the facts as far as I have been able to gather them.’
‘Admirable!’ exclaimed the other, who was standing with his back to the fire, smoking his pipe. ‘It’s a pity you opted for the legal profession, Mr. Utterson. Scotland Yard is in sore need of energetic fathomers such as yourself. You have made my task much simpler by sparing me the trouble of collecting the information which you have supplied.’
‘You are interested, then?’ Utterson rose.
‘The case presents a number of intriguing particulars,’ Holmes acknowledged. ‘One final question. In all the years during which you have known Dr. Jekyll, have you ever known him to be guilty of a serious indiscretion?’
‘I know what you are driving at,’ said the other, ‘but I fear that my answer will disappoint you. As long as I have been Henry Jekyll’s confidant, his actions, to my knowledge, have never been anything less than those of a gentleman. Of course, I did not know him during his student days at the University of Edinburgh and can tell you nothing about his conduct then. I doubt, however, that he could have been guilty of any malfeasance serious enough to embarrass him after all of these years. He is and has always been a credit to his calling.’
‘What of his relationship with women?’
The lawyer smiled faintly beneath his moustache. ‘Henry Jekyll and I are confirmed bachelors.’
‘These are deep waters indeed,’ reflected the detective, fingering his pipe.
‘Tell me, Mr. Holmes; is it blackmail?’
‘I think that it is very probable.’
‘Well, I care for my friend and, dark secret or no, I do not intend to see him suffer any further humiliation at the hands of a man whom upon the evidence I can only consider a fiend. But before I can free him I must know the nature of that secret, and that is why I am here. Will you accept the case?’
Holmes stepped away from the mantelpiece, turning so as to avoid meeting my warning gaze. ‘I can think of nothing that I’d like better than to turn whatever feeble skills I may possess towards the clearing up of this problem.’
‘One caution,’ Utterson said. ‘It is imperative that Jekyll never know of your interest in the matter.’
‘You have my word that as long as it is in my power to keep him in the dark he will remain so.’
The two clasped hands, and after Holmes had secured the addresses of Jekyll, Utterson, and Hyde as the last had been given the lawyer and scribbled them on his shirt cuff, he bade our visitor farewell, sending him off with words of encouragement and a promise to keep him informed. Once he had gone, my companion turned to me.
‘What does your Medical Directory have to say upon the subject of Dr. Henry Jekyll, Watson?’ he asked.
I swallowed my anger with him for the time being and took down the requested volume from among the books upon my shelf. I flipped through the pages, found the passage I was looking for, and read:
Jekyll, Henry William, M.D., D.C.L., LL.D., F.R.S., 1856, London. Lecturer, from 1871 to 1874, at the University of London. Developer of the Jekyll tranquiliser for violent mental cases. Worked with Porter Thaler, M.D., B.A., M.A., M.R.C.S., during the latter’s experiments in chemotherapy for the criminally insane. Noted for his ongoing researches into the causes and cures of mental disease. Author of ‘Law and the Dual Personality,’ Lancet, 1876. ‘The Legality of Insanity,’ Journal of Psychology, August 1880. ‘The War Between the Members,’ British Medical Journal, February 1882. Declined the offer of a knighthood in 1881 and again in 1882.
‘“The War Between the Members”,’ Holmes mused. ‘An intriguing title. I should be interested in reading the article which goes with it.’
‘I came across it quite recently whilst going through my back numbers,’ said I, trading the big Directory for the slimmer British Medical Journal for February of the previous year. ‘The editors gave no little space to a rather outlandish theory of his regarding — here, I’ve found it. “The War Between the Members,” by Henry Jekyll, M.D. D.C.L., LL.D., and so forth. Shall I read some of it?’
‘Please do.’
‘“When a great man dies”,’ I read, ‘“we are given to discourse upon the nature of the man, and to list the glowing achievements which this nature produced during his span. What we ignore — and ‘ignore’ is the proper word, since we all know that it exists but prefer not to speak of it — is his second nature, that baser, less noble member which, depending upon the degree to which it is suppressed, threatens to drag its owner down meaner channels than those its lofty counterpart has chosen. For man is not one but two, and those two are for ever in conflict over which shall be the master. It is the victor which decides what direction the man’s life will take.” It goes on in that vein for six pages.’ I closed the book.
‘Eloquent,’ said Holmes.
‘But simplistic. He says nothing that everyone does not already know.’
‘Which is, perhaps, why it is important to say it. But I wonder that it appeared in a medical journal. It smacks of philosophy rather than science.’
‘He makes the point later on that understanding the conflict between man’s two selves may one day lead to a cure for diseases of the mind. Far-fetched, I call it.’
But Holmes was not listening. He thrust a hand inside the pocket of his frock-coat and stared at the smoke floating from his pipe towards the ceiling. ‘Two natures, one noble, the other base. I wonder if it is perhaps Jekyll’s own baser nature which made him a target. If he is indeed a target. A most tantalising problem, this.’
‘I trust that the solution is worth the danger to your health,’ I remonstrated, for I could control my fury no longer. ‘It is obvious that I failed in my attempts to make you appreciate the importance of this holiday.’
‘Holiday be damned!’ he cried unexpectedly. ‘Blackmailers are the absolute worst of criminals, for they bleed their victims dry and leave nothing but the empty husk behind. There is, for instance, a man in Hampstead — with whom there will one day be a reckoning — who holds the fates of a dozen men and women in his hands, and who dallies with them as does a child with his cup and ball. No, Watson, there will be no holiday whilst one of our worthiest
citizens squirms beneath the thumb of such a scoundrel. Nottingham is postponed, and we shall speak no more of it until we have closed the book upon the strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.’ He snatched his great-coat and hat from their hook and put them on.
‘Where are we bound?’ I asked.
‘It’s going to be a fine night, Watson,’ said he, handing me my own outer garments. ‘What say you to a little journey down to Soho?’
Three
A CONFRONTATION IN SOHO
A few minutes’ travel by hansom saw us in Soho Square, that haphazard conglomeration of dingy streets and ramshackle buildings in which a dozen different nationalities flourish like so many varieties of exotic plants in a hothouse. It was a clear night, and yet the scenery was scarcely discernible in the inadequate light trickling through the sooty panes of the gas lamps which stood on every corner. Some vandal had hurled a paving-stone through the one nearest the address which we sought, extinguishing it, so that our driver had to climb down from his seat and strike a match beneath the wrought-iron numbers upon the door before he could be certain that he had brought us to the right place.
‘This is it, gentlemen,’ he announced cheerily, shaking out the match as he returned to the hansom. ‘Though why a pair of upstandin’ gentlemen like yourselves’d be visitin’ the kind of bloke what lives in a dump like this is beyond me, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so.’
Ignoring the implied question, Holmes alighted and handed the driver a half-crown. ‘There’s more where that came from if you’ll take your cab round the corner and wait for us,’ the detective told him.
‘Blimey!’ exclaimed the other, secreting the coin in his coat pocket. ‘For ‘arf a crown I’d kidnap the Tsar of Rooshia single-handed.’
‘That won’t be necessary. Just wait round the corner.’ When he had clattered off: ‘It’s a rare fellow who speaks his mind like that, Watson. He’d sing a different tune if he knew what the man who resides in this particular “dump” is heir to. Did you think to bring your revolver, by the way?’
The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: Dr Jekyll & Mr Holmes Page 3
