Six
UTTERSON CHANGES HIS MIND
The contrast between the stately dwelling in which Henry Jekyll lived and practised and the decaying structure round the corner into which we had seen Hyde vanish early that morning was startling; set back from the street, the building was separated from it by a strip of grass as smooth and green as the surface of a billiard table, with conical bushes spaced about the grounds in a manner reflecting the skill of a gardener who had spent years perfecting his art. Ivy clung to the red brick walls and shaded the spacious, sparkling windows, completing the atmosphere of a pleasant country home nestled incongruously within the bosom of the foul city. It was difficult to believe that a single piece of architecture could present two such diverse faces to the world, and yet one had but to walk a few steps to become convinced of the duplicity.
The butler who answered Sherlock Holmes’s ring was of a type to match that part of the building before which we stood. Tall, elderly, with a great shock of snow-white hair and a thin face nearly as pale, he bore in his expression and carriage the proud yet humble air of one who is accustomed to serving, and who does so exceedingly well. He accepted between thumb and forefinger the card with which Holmes presented him, lifted it gingerly to within an inch of his watery blue eyes, and held it there far longer than it took to read the single name which was engraved upon it. Finally he lowered it and, after asking us in a surprisingly vibrant voice to step inside and wait, collected our hats, coats, and sticks, turned, and walked silently across the flag-paved room and through a pair of panelled doors. He slid them shut behind him with no more sound than one might make in drawing a breath.
The room in which we waited was less than cavernous, though what it lacked in breadth it more than made up for in the luxury of its appointments. Tasteful curtains muted the light filtering in through the windows. An excellent bust of Goethe done in flawless marble stood unobtrusively atop a pedestal in one corner, at the far end of a row of four solid-looking wooden and satin-upholstered chairs lined up with their rounded backs against the wall to our right. That wall and the one opposite sported the same number of oil paintings in matching gilt frames, which looked familiar; I stared at them for some time before I realised that they were executed in the same style as the one which we had seen hanging in Hyde’s rooms. A gift, perhaps, from his unlikely benefactor?
‘“Impressive” hardly suffices,’ said Holmes — echoing, as was sometimes his wont, the very word which had just that moment come into my mind, ‘the paintings number among Degas’s best, and those chairs are Louis XIV. Three of them are, at any rate; the fourth is a copy, though a very good one. I should say that the good doctor is a lover of life, torn between the awesome responsibilities of his profession and station and a definite preference for the forbidden. Louis XIV represents stability and respectability, Degas adventure and risk. A blackmailer could ask for no better combination in a victim.’
He seemed about to say more when the doors glided open again and the butler returned.
‘Dr. Jekyll will see you now.’
We were led through the doors and down a short, amply-windowed hallway to a plain door at the end, upon which he rapped softly. A muffled voice from within bade him enter. He did so, remained long enough to announce us, and, after stepping aside to allow us entrance, withdrew, drawing the door shut behind him.
We were in a study, three walls of which, save for the door, were lined from floor to ceiling with handsomely-bound volumes of every thickness — most of which, from the well-worn appearance of their spines, were there for use rather than for display. Most bore medical and scientific titles, some were legal in nature, but I noted a set of Goethe’s works in the original German reposing upon a shelf not far from the door, reaffirming his apparent interest in the great poet. The one wall which was not covered with books — that which faced the door — was dominated by a pair of French windows which opened out upon a small open-air foyer paved with flags and overgrown with rosebushes. But for the grey hulk of a stone building rising ghost-like from the fog a dozen yards beyond, we might have been visiting a country estate miles from London.
‘Sherlock Holmes,’ pondered the man who came forward to greet us from behind a huge French Empire desk which stood before the windows. ‘I don’t think that I know the name.’ They clasped hands.
‘But I have certainly heard of you, Dr. Jekyll,’ said my friend. ‘Allow me to introduce Dr. Watson, one of your own colleagues.’
I accepted the doctor’s firm handshake. He was a tall man, nearly as tall as Holmes himself, and remarkably well built for a man of fifty. He had a well-chiselled face and crisp blue eyes, in contrast to his manservant’s watery orbs of the same colour, and his wavy chestnut hair was silvered at the temples in a way which most men hope to emulate as old age approaches but few do. His face was broad but not coarse, clean-shaven, and distinctive for its high cheekbones, well-shaped nose, and wide, sculpted mouth. If anyone could look like a quarter of a million pounds sterling, Henry Jekyll succeeded down to the last twopence. I was surprised, however, to note that he was still in his dressing gown, it being close upon two o’clock in the afternoon; but as a scientist he may have been accustomed, as was Holmes, to working upon chemical experiments into the small hours of the morning and to rising late in the day, and so I thought no more about it. Indeed, there was a purplish tint beneath his eyes and a general wanness about his appearance that seemed to bear out that hypothesis.
‘To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?’ he asked Holmes.
‘I understand that you are familiar with a person who calls himself Edward Hyde,’ began Holmes. His manner had undergone an abrupt change from cordial to cold. There was in addition something official in his tone, not unlike that assumed by the blustering Scotland Yard detectives with whom he was accustomed to sparring.
‘May I ask why you wish to know this?’
For all Jekyll’s seeming forthrightness, his attitude seemed false, as though he had known in advance the question which my friend was going to ask. He was newly risen, however, and since there was no visible reason for it, I put the impression down to deadened senses and left it at that.
‘Hyde has expressed interest in a small parcel of property outside of London,’ my friend explained smoothly. ‘He left your name as a reference. We have been engaged by the seller to interview you concerning his ability to pay the sum discussed.’
‘I see.’ The doctor turned his back upon us to gaze out the window. ‘It is curious that a realtor would engage a third party to conduct such an interview when he could just as well do it himself.’
‘There is a substantial sum involved. Our client wishes to take no chances. When your roof leaks, you hire a carpenter to repair it.’
Jekyll made no rejoinder.
‘You are acquainted with the gentleman?’ Holmes repeated.
‘I am.’
‘May I ask in what capacity?’
‘We are friends.’
‘How long have you known each other?’
‘A year, I think. Perhaps longer.’
‘How did you meet?’
‘We were introduced by a mutual acquaintance.’
‘May I enquire as to the name of the acquaintance?’
‘You may not.’
‘Very well.’ The detective nodded his acquiescence.
‘When was the last time you and Hyde saw each other?’
‘I think that I have answered enough questions.’ Jekyll turned from the window. His blue eyes were cold as ice. ‘You, sir, are a contemptible liar!’ he exploded. ‘Your client is not whom you say he is, and Hyde has no interests outside of London. I do not know what you hoped to gain through this charade, but I certainly do not intend to help you. Poole!’ He yanked at the bell-cord which hung over the desk.
A moment later the old butler entered. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘Poole, escort these gentlemen to the door. We have nothing further to discuss.’
‘Y
es, sir.’ Poole bowed and turned to us, eyebrows raised.
‘I pity you, Dr. Jekyll,’ Holmes announced coldly. ‘It is an unfortunate man who does not recognise a friend when he sees one. Come along, Watson.’ He spun upon his heel and left a step ahead of the venerable manservant.
‘Well, Watson?’ said my companion when we were in a cab and on our way home once again. ‘What do you make of this latest development?’
‘I was not aware that it was a development,’ said I.
‘Oh, but it most certainly was! How do you suppose Jekyll saw through our ruse?’
‘I should think that Hyde told him of our earlier meeting.’
‘It is of course possible. But how could Jekyll be so certain that his friend has no interests outside of London?’
‘The same answer?’
‘If so, then the two are closer than brothers, for the doctor to be so intimate with every detail of Hyde’s life. Such intimacy, I think, would destroy the blackmail theory, since it’s hardly likely that he’d expect the man who is bleeding him to confide in him. Also, what theory have you formed that will explain Jekyll’s delay in exposing our little falsehood?’
‘I have none,’ I admitted.
‘Information, Watson! He hoped by playing along with us to find out how much we had learnt, else he would have denounced us immediately. That explains the purpose of Hyde’s visit this morning. He foresaw our calling upon the doctor and directed him to learn what he could of the threat which we represented.’ He rubbed his hands. ‘This case has taken on more facets than a brilliant. It is perhaps the most stimulating in which I have taken part. But we have a visitor.’
We had stopped before 221, and Holmes’s attention was centred upon the window of our lodgings, in which there was a light. An angular shadow paced nervously to and fro beyond the drawn blinds.
‘Utterson!’ greeted Holmes, once we had mounted the steps and entered. ‘I thought that I recognised that stooping posture. What service can we render?’
It was an agitated lawyer who stalked up to us as we removed our coats; his eyes flashed and his gaunt cheeks, normally pallid, seemed to glow like a railroader’s red lantern. His rage was evident. His first words, however, were cryptic.
‘My cousin was mistaken!’ he snapped.
Holmes raised his eyebrows inquisitively.
‘He swore to me that you were a man who kept a confidence,’ Utterson continued. ‘You yourself testified as much in this very room. Yet no sooner had I turned my back than you went running straight to Jekyll and told all. Have you no shame?’
‘You border upon insult, sir.’ Holmes spoke warningly.
‘Do you deny the charge?’
‘I would hear more before committing myself.’
‘I came here straight from Jekyll’s. He knows of your involvement in the affair and has delivered an ultimatum: either I dismiss you or look for another client. I would like to know how he learnt of it, if not from you.’
‘I would be interested in knowing that myself,’ replied Holmes calmly.
Utterson’s expression changed from anger to incredulity. ‘You are saying that you did not violate our confidence?’
‘I remind you that my vow of secrecy carried certain conditions. Nevertheless, Jekyll did not learn of our agreement from me.’
‘From whom, then?’
‘I am not clairvoyant, no matter what you may have heard to the contrary. However, it is not so very difficult to guess, since I introduced myself to Edward Hyde not forty-eight hours ago.’
‘And you told him that I had engaged you?’
‘I did not have the opportunity, but I should not have in any case. No doubt Hyde arrived at the conclusion himself. He is a bright young man, for all his repulsiveness. Seek not for someone to blame, Mr. Utterson; you knew that there was a danger of Jekyll finding out when you came to me.’
Utterson nodded distractedly. My friend’s logic had extinguished his fury as a bucket of water poured over a blaze. ‘I have done you a grave injustice, Mr. Holmes. Please accept my apology.’
Holmes waved it aside. ‘Perhaps it was not so unwarranted. Watson and I have ourselves newly come from Jekyll’s, where the truth came out as surely as if I had explained the matter to him. I had no other recourse.’
Mrs. Hudson came in with coffee. After we had all been served she left, and Holmes motioned the lawyer into that armchair which he had occupied during his first visit.
‘You say that you came here directly from Jekyll’s,’ said the detective, assuming his usual seat opposite. ‘When was that?’
‘I left at half past one.’
‘And we arrived there at two o’clock. We must have passed each other upon the way. How did Jekyll seem?’
‘He was angry with me, but he made no scene. He said that he knew what I was up to, and presented me with the ultimatum which I mentioned.’
‘That was all?’
Utterson shook his head, frowning at the coffee in his cup. ‘I explained to him my reasons for calling you in. He was past understanding, but he insisted that I leave the matter where it lay. He reiterated his special interest in Hyde but would not say what it was. Finally, he assured me that he owed no debt to the fellow and that he could be rid of him whenever he chose.’
‘And what was your response?’
‘As his friend, I had no choice but to agree to his demand. But that was not my only reason. Mr. Holmes, Henry Jekyll has his secrets — I’d be a fool to deny that in the light of recent events — but he does not lie. When he says that he can rid himself of this creature, I believe him. In spite of all our suspicions it appears that the affair is quite innocent. I am the one to blame for jumping to conclusions. Naturally I shall pay you for the time and effort which you have expended.’ He reached inside his coat. Holmes held up a hand.
‘Let your cheque-book alone, Mr. Utterson,’ said he. ‘This one is on Sherlock Holmes. But before you go, pray suffer a word of advice.
The lawyer had risen to leave. He paused and looked expectantly down at the seated detective.
‘I believe you when you say that your friend’s word is gospel. Whatever his predicament, however, I think that he is unaware of how deeply he is involved. It is a business most dark and sinister, and before it is finished I fear that more than one life may be ruined by it. I am but a humble servant, whose services may be engaged or dismissed at will. From what I have learnt of Edward Hyde, I would not file him under the same letter. The day is coming when you will regret having bowed to your friend’s will. When that day comes I ask that you do not forget me.
‘I shall remember,’ said Utterson. ‘If that day comes.’ He nodded to each of us and departed.
Holmes signed. ‘Those, I fear, were words well wasted. I had hoped that I might yet persuade him to change his mind.’
‘Do you really think that Jekyll is headed for disaster?’ I asked.
‘I have said once today that I am not clairvoyant. But Utterson was deluded when he said that his friend does not lie; he could be mistaken in other things as well.’ He touched a match to a cigarette.
‘What falsehood has he told?’
‘When he greeted us he said that he was not familiar with the name of Sherlock Holmes. Yet a scant half an hour earlier he had informed Utterson that he was aware of my involvement. In our presence he also feigned ignorance of our interest in Hyde. A spider which weaves so intricate a web is bound to get caught. Yes, Watson; disaster is on its way to the Jekyll household. It little matters whether it arrives today, or tomorrow, or a year from now. It is inexorable.’
He fell silent, and for some minute sat smoking and staring into the fire which blazed in the grate. At length, however, the shadow lifted from his brow and he returned his attention to me.
‘Well, my dear fellow,’ he began, ‘I believe that I promised you a holiday. Be good enough to peruse this month’s Bradshaw for the next train to Nottingham, and pass me my violin. I’ve been having trouble with the t
hird movement in that little concerto of Tchaikovsky’s, and if I can get hold of it today I shall consider it an afternoon well spent.’
But for all his pretended gaiety, once Holmes’s fingers curled around his Stradivarius his true feelings came to the fore, and when he began playing it was not Tchaikovsky who received his musical attention, but the ‘Dead March.’
Seven
THE CAREW MURDER
Of the more than twenty years during which I was privileged to call myself Sherlock Holmes’s associate, the year 1884 remains in my memory a pivotal period in the career of the man whom I consider to have been the most extraordinary figure of the nineteenth century. Whilst I laboured to perfect my account of the first case we shared — that which I have published under the somewhat fantastic title of A Study in Scarlet — the man about whom that account is centred was building his reputation upon the satisfaction of his many clients and was beginning to acquire something of celebrity status. That he abhorred fame and all of the obligations which it entailed was quite beside the point, for a man endowed with his remarkable qualities and gift for exploiting them could hardly expect to escape the clamourings of society.
Just how widespread his notoriety had become we did not learn until one day in late autumn when, whilst walking home from an interview with a cockney charwoman in connexion with a kidnapping in Manchester Square, we stopped off at a public-house to share a bottle of port and compare notes. This was shortly after Holmes had exposed Colonel Mortimer Upwood, late of the Indian Army, as the culprit behind the unsuccessful 1879 assault upon the home offices of the Capital and Counties Bank, which had resulted in the death of the head cashier, and the newspaper was rare which did not carry an account of the unofficial detective’s part in clearing up the matter. We had been there scarcely five minutes when a group of drunken day-labourers seated at the next table, who had not the least awareness of who their neighbours were, launched into the following ditty, which I shall endeavour to set down much as we heard it:
The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: Dr Jekyll & Mr Holmes Page 7
