A straight-backed wooden chair stood on either side of the fire. I selected one and sank down onto it. Holmes remained standing, his back to the fire. Almost unconsciously he drew his black briar from the pocket of his waistcoat, filled it, and lit it with a coal from the grate. Outwardly at least, he had regained his calm demeanour.
‘You may begin at the beginning, Doctor.’
Jekyll made a gesture of dismissal. ‘That won’t be necessary. It’s evident that you are familiar with my observations upon that imperfect species which we call the human race. That two men, one noble, the other base, exist side by side in each of our bodies became an obsession with me whilst I was attending the University. I was convinced that my true calling lay in dedicating my life towards eradicating that cruder self which has led to the undoing of so many honourable men. To accomplish that, it was first necessary that the two be separated. By graduation I had already determined that such a separation was chemically possible; it remained only for me to narrow down the proper elements. Since the combinations were nearly limitless, I was fully aware that I might die long before I had attained my goal. By that time, though, I hoped to have found a successor who would be willing to take up where I had left off. Towards this end I endeavoured to enlist my friend Lanyon, only to have him condemn my theories as “unscientific balderdash” when I laid them before him. From that moment dates the rift between us which interested you early in your investigation.
‘Lest I begin to sound like a martyr, I must confess that my motives were not entirely altruistic. Born into a wealthy, respectable family, I had all my life been warned that there were certain things which a Jekyll must not do, or risk compromising the family honour. Being that imperfect combination of opposing wills, I longed as a result to taste of some of the pleasures which were forbidden me. The first step — separating the noble member from the base — might release my other self to sample those distractions without jeopardy. A scandal which took place during my student days because of this longing, far from dissuading me, bolstered my determination to continue and thus realise this first goal. Afterwards, I promised myself, I would press onwards until my worthier work was done. How foolish we are in our youth!
‘The breakthrough came something over two years ago. A certain white powder — it shall remain nameless — when mixed with the solution which I had long ago decided upon as the correct one, had the catalytic effect which I sought. I drank it, with the results which you have yourselves just witnessed, though in reverse. I have dealt in detail with my first experiences under the drug’s effects in my written confession addressed to Utterson and lying unfinished upon yonder table. I wish that I could convey something of the freedom which I felt in my new self. The creature whom I was to christen Edward Hyde was young and thoroughly unfettered by the chains of conscience. Unlike the rest of us, he was a perfect being, but only in that his wickedness was pure and unadulterated. Hypocrisy was not in his nature, for his foulest thoughts were written plainly upon his face. This was the reason for that seemingly unfounded loathing with which everyone who encountered him was stricken.
‘It is painful for me to admit that there my experiments halted. The temptation to turn this freedom to my own advantage was too great, and once, after an embarrassing episode in which Jekyll was forced to compensate the family of a young girl for a wrong which Hyde had done her, I had established Hyde’s independence with a banking-account of his own and a home in Soho, I dedicated myself body and soul to a double life. By day Henry Jekyll donated his services to the betterment of mankind; by night Edward Hyde did his level best to undo that good. For a period we cancelled each other out.
‘My first inkling of danger came some months later when my other self appeared without the aid of the drug. I had gone to sleep as Henry Jekyll and had awakened as Edward Hyde. It required a double dose of the powder upon that occasion to return me to my normal state.
‘It was a frightening development, for it meant that the character of Hyde had begun to dominate that of Jekyll. If the situation were allowed to continue, I reasoned, it was only a matter of time before Hyde became the natural personality, whilst Jekyll was reduced to the aberration. It was possible, in fact, that things would reach the point where the elderly and respected doctor would vanish entirely from existence. I prepared for the worst and drew up that will which caused Utterson so much consternation and eventually brought you into the picture, in which I stipulated that, in the event of the death or disappearance of Dr. Jekyll, all of his possessions would pass into the hands of his good friend Mr. Hyde. It is evidence of my selfishness that I feared to cast my other self adrift with neither finances nor shelter.
‘At the same time, I took steps to see that the worst did not happen, and for a period of two months abstained from drinking my unholy brew. Had I been stronger, I would have destroyed my notes, dumped out my chemicals, and been a happy man today. I was fool enough, however, and weak enough, to believe that sixty days of non-indulgence were enough to reverse the creeping effect, and succumbed once again to temptation.’
At this point Jekyll began to shudder violently and buried his face in his hands. That he had reached the end of his tether was painfully evident. After a moment, however, he steeled himself with visible effort and lowered his hands. The fire threw a shimmering red glow over his wasted features as he stared into it.
‘The Edward Hyde who emerged after an imprisonment of two months was not the same corrupt but fun-loving fellow who went into it,’ he continued. ‘He was wild, totally unbridled. Hitherto he had tolerated Jekyll as a shelter and place of rest into which he could retreat after a night of frivolity; now he was consumed with hatred for the man whom he considered his gaoler, and for the entire stratum of society which he represented. His only goal was vengeance. Physically, he could not harm Jekyll without doing damage to himself as well, but he could strike back at him in other ways. If Hyde’s weakness lay in his self-indulgence, Jekyll’s was centred in conscience. Hyde knew that his excesses were a source of great disturbance to his other self; what better way to wreak his revenge than to commit a deed so foul that the doctor would never again be able to hold his head erect? I am familiar with his motives, you see, because whilst Jekyll and Hyde were two distinctly different individuals they still shared one memory.
‘When Sir Danvers Carew, to whom Edward Hyde was a complete stranger, chanced to meet him during a stroll, tipped his hat, and politely asked for directions to a certain restaurant, my other self saw his opportunity and seized it. On that fateful night any who chose to speak to him would have been doomed — so great was his rage against all of mankind — but the very sight of this ancient and cultured gentleman and the cordial way in which he expressed himself, appearing to take no notice of the meanness of his chance acquaintance, stirred his fury to a fever pitch. He flew into a frenzy — but I will spare you the details, as they were recorded all too graphically in the next day’s newspapers. Suffice it to say that Sir Danvers never stood a chance and that his life was as so much chaff beneath the madman’s feet.
‘What was Hyde’s reaction, when the deed was done? Certainly not remorse. Panic was his strongest emotion. He looked round and, convinced that he was alone upon the path with the dead man, beat a hasty retreat to Soho, where he burnt those papers which linked him to Jekyll and from there fled to this address to take refuge in the body of one who was above suspicion.
‘His revenge was complete, though self-destructive; for Jekyll, after the first seizure of guilt, renounced his double life. Symbolically, I crushed beneath my heel the key with which Hyde was wont to enter the laboratory section of the house, then informed Utterson — after handing him a farewell note to which I had forged Hyde’s signature — that I was done with the fellow. Immediately thereafter I entered upon an intensive campaign to make up in some measure for Hyde’s black existence. For the first time in years I resumed the mantle of physician, making charity cases my specialty. Thousands of pounds I donated anonymously
towards the renovation of three of London’s major hospitals. On a personal level, I rekindled old friendships, most notably with Hastie Lanyon, with whom I healed the breach which ten years ago had increased to the point where we no longer spoke. My every waking moment was devoted to improving my own little quarter of the world — a comedown, I grant you, from my youthful ideals of raising all of mankind to a new plane, but a more realistic course nonetheless, with more tangible results. It was both the least and the most I could do to atone for a crime for which I know now that there is no atonement. For the space of three months I was a contented man.
‘Alas, it was that very contentment which led to my ruination. The pitfall to avoid when wearing sackcloth and ashes is that of assuming a false pride in one’s nobility, which is contrary to its very meaning; I began to see myself in such pious terms, and for the first time in many weeks my thoughts wandered from my mission. I felt that the end of my self-imposed sentence was in view. An impure thought — that is all which was required. I was strolling in Regent’s Park after a day of self-sacrifice when, without warning, and in less time that it takes to recount it, the transformation took place. Gone was Henry Jekyll, the physician and erstwhile scientist, respected and admired by all who knew him; in his place stood the murderer, Edward Hyde, whose scalp was worth thousands to the man fortunate enough to lay hands upon him.
‘The horror of suddenly finding myself in a form which I had hoped never to assume again was gone in the instant of transformation. Blind panic replaced it. Hyde was miles from the safety of the laboratory in the midst of a city alive with constables. His description was known throughout the length and breadth of London. How to return? How to partake of the formula which was his sole salvation? In an instant the answer came: Lanyon! Final reconciliation between him and Jekyll had taken place over the dinner table only the night before. He who had refused the offer to aid the rash scientist three decades earlier might yet be won over. Through roundabout means Hyde made his way to shelter and drafted a note, signed by Jekyll: a certain drawer filled with chemicals in Jekyll’s laboratory was to be brought to Lanyon’s home until called for. Lanyon was to tell no-one, and even his servants were to be absent from the house at midnight, when the messenger was to be expected. The note was worded so desperately that no true Christian could refuse its plea. Hyde dispatched the letter and settled down impatiently to await midnight. At that hour — ‘
‘I think that you have said enough, Doctor,’ Holmes broke in. ‘Lanyon’s decline in health and subsequent death date from that night, when before his eyes the transformation took place.’
Jekyll nodded gravely. ‘The temptation to reveal the secret to Jekyll’s most ardent dissenter was too great. Jekyll would have practised restraint; Hyde cared only to demonstrate his triumph. I suppose that Lanyon’s death is one more murder which may be attributed to me.
‘It naturally follows that Jekyll’s renewed isolation came about as a result of the uncertainty concerning when and where the change might take place.
‘That is the horror of it, Mr. Holmes. It was an impurity in the powder which gave the potion its strength, an impurity which cannot be duplicated. I know, because I have tried every chemist in London. Without it I am doomed, for only by maintaining the utmost concentration am I allowed to remain in my present state. How swiftly tragedy can strike was demonstrated during your last visit, when I barely had time to turn you both from the room before the change occurred. Far from harming him, Hyde’s crimes have given him dominance over his former master. At the same time they have sealed both our fates. Likely it is my despair over this revelation which has alarmed my servants.’
‘Have you not attempted to analyse the powder to determine the nature of the impurity?’ I asked.
‘Attempted and failed, Doctor!’ he cried. ‘Surely your own medical training has made you aware of the infinity of matter which exists upon this planet, and of the utter hopelessness of any endeavour to identify a random substance whose properties do not conform to those of any within one man’s limited experience.’
Holmes nodded. ‘He is quite right, Watson. And even then, should he be fortunate enough, against all the laws of nature, to stumble upon the key to the mystery, the odds against his duplicating the exact ratio of the impurity to the base required to accomplish the desired effect are astronomical. One in twenty trillion would not seem too farfetched an equation. I am something of a dabbler in the chemical art myself, Dr. Jekyll,’ he added modestly.
I smote my forehead. ‘By thunder, that’s right! I’d completely forgotten! Holmes! You’re a chemist; where one man’s knowledge has failed, another’s may succeed. What say you, Doctor? Will you consent to have Sherlock Holmes examine the impurity?’
Again he shuddered. ‘I had one remaining dose of the original powder; I consumed that just now. That is what I meant when I said that soon Jekyll will cease to be. Even now I fancy that I can hear Hyde’s unearthly laughter echoing inside my skull. His triumph will be the end of us both.’
Even as he spoke, I imagined that I saw traces in Jekyll’s features of that ghastly pallor which we had observed just before the termination of our last interview. I rose. I wanted to be gone before that transformation took place.
Holmes remained rooted before the fire. He studied our host with an air of clinical interest, as if he were a specimen on a card. ‘One more mystery stands in need of a solution,’ said he. ‘Two months ago Hyde revealed himself in broad daylight near Lanyon’s house. I know for a fact that he ventured out as Jekyll. Why did you take that risk?’
The scientist nodded. ‘So it was you who pursued Hyde that day. He suspected as much, though he hardly recognized you.’ He shrugged wearily. ‘It was the madness of despair. I was obsessed suddenly with the notion that with Lanyon’s brilliant assistance I might yet find some way to duplicate the original powder. The transformation en route brought me, or rather Hyde, to his senses and the rash hope was abandoned. The murderer’s reappearance on Lanyon’s doorstep might have prompted him to summon the police. He instructed the driver to return him to Jekyll’s house, or rather round the corner from it, where he might gain entrance without the servants’ seeing him. The conclusion came too late; by then Hyde had already been spotted.’ He paused, then looked up with interest at my companion. ‘What is it that has brought you here on this fateful day? Can it possibly be that in so short a space you were able to find the same truth which took me a lifetime?’
Holmes waved aside the question. ‘A mere instinct. Something which I read earlier today came back to me over my violin. That, and something I witnessed this afternoon and failed to recognise for the final act of desperation that it was.’
A silence ensued which was as long and as heavy as that pall which settles over a room in which a corpse lies in state, seconds after the last mourner has filed out. Somewhere in the distance a clock ticked out Henry Jekyll’s last moments in measured, emotionless beats.
Something akin to sympathy glimmered in the detective’s normally cold eyes. ‘What are your plans?’
‘There is a phial of curare on the work-table. Jekyll has not the courage to use it; Hyde has not the will. I pray that he will choose it over the rope, which will certainly be his fate once he has been apprehended. There is no other direction in which he can flee.’
Holmes shook his head disapprovingly. ‘Hyde will never commit suicide. His wicked self-love would demand that he find some other way to cheat the gallows.’
‘Then there is but one alternative.’
As we watched, Jekyll pushed himself up and out of his chair and took up a poker from its place beside the fire. With it balanced in one hand he started towards the detective.
‘What are you doing?’ Holmes demanded. He fingered the revolver in his pocket.
‘What a man who lacks both the will to live and the courage to die must do,’ said the doctor, advancing with ponderous steps.
‘Don’t be a fool, Jekyll!’ My companion retreated
a step, exposing his weapon.
I raised my own. ‘Look out, Holmes!’ I cried. ‘He’s gone mad!’
Jekyll laughed then, a low, mirthless chuckle that convinced me that his mind had indeed become unsettled by his awful personal tragedy. ‘No, Doctor,’ said he, without slowing or taking his eyes from his intended victim. ‘I really believe that I am thinking clearly for the first time in many, many months.’
Holmes had his back against the door now and could go no farther. Jekyll raised the poker high over his head and braced himself for the downswing. As he did so, his powerful frame, like a wax statuette placed too near an open hearth, seemed to shrivel until it resembled nothing other than Hyde’s shrunken configuration. Holmes fired point-blank into his mid-section, once, twice.
For what seemed an eternity, his assailant stood as if paralysed, the rod poised over his head to deliver the fatal blow. I held my revolver steady and prepared to fire. Then Jekyll — Hyde, now — swayed and toppled, releasing the poker so that it fell with a clang to the floor. In the next instant he was sprawled on top of it. He shuddered and lay still.
I rushed forward and felt for a pulse. After a moment I looked up at my friend, who remained standing with his back to the door and the firearm smoking in his hand, and shook my head gravely.
‘May God have mercy on his soul,’ murmured Holmes.
There was a frantic knocking at the door.
‘Jekyll!’ It was Utterson’s voice, taut with alarm. The doorknob rattled. ‘Great Scott, Jekyll, if you’re all right speak up! Down with the door, Poole!’
The door bucked in its frame as if a shoulder had slammed into it. Holmes was galvanized into action.
‘Get over here, Watson!’ he barked. ‘Quickly! Hold the door!’
The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: Dr Jekyll & Mr Holmes Page 18
