Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the second chapter of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

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Today we'll be continuing The Strange Case of Dr.

Jekyll and Mr.

Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson search for Mr.

Hyde that evening, Mr.

Utterson came home to his bachelor house in sombre spirits and sat down to dinner without relish.

It was his custom of a Sunday, when this meal was over, to sit close by the fire, a volume of some dry divinity on his reading desk, until the clock of the neighboring church rang out the hour of twelve, when he would go soberly and gratefully to bed.

On this night, however, as soon as the cloth was taken away, he took up a candle and went into his business room.

There he opened his safe, took from the most private part of it a document endorsed on the envelope as Dr.

Jekyll's will, and sat down with a clouded brow to study its contents.

The will was holograph for Mr.

Utterson, though he took charge of it now that it was made, had refused to lend the least assistance in the making of it.

It provided not only that, in case of the deceased of Henry Jekyll, MD, DCL, LLD, FRS, etc.

All his possessions were to pass into the hands of his friend and benefactor, Edward Hyde.

But that in case of Dr.

Jekyll's disappearance or unexplained absence for any period exceeding three calendar months, said Edward Hyde should step into the said Henry Jekyll's shoes without further delay and free from any burden or obligation beyond the payment of a few small sums to the members of the doctor's household.

This document had long been the lawyer's eyesore.

It offended him both as a lawyer and as a lover of the sane and customary sides of life, to whom the fanciful was the immodest and hitherto.

It was his ignorance of Mr.

Hyde that had swelled his indignation.

Now by a sudden turn, it was his knowledge.

It was already bad enough when the name was but a name of which he could learn no more.

It was worse when it began to be clothed upon the detestable attributes, and out of the shifting, insubstantial mists that had so long baffled his eye, there leapt up the sudden definite presentiment of a fiend.

I thought it was madness, he said, as he replaced the obnoxious paper in the safe, and now I begin to fear it is disgrace.

With that he blew out his candle, put on a great coat, and set forth in the direction of Cavendish Square, that citadel of medicine where his friend, the great Dr.

Lanyon, had his house and received his crowding patience.

If anyone knows, it'll be Lanyon.

He had thought the solemn butler knew and welcomed him.

He was subjected to no stage of delay, but ushered direct from the door to the dining room, where Dr.

Lanyon sat alone over his wine.

This was a hearty healthy, dapper, red faced gentleman, with a shock of hair prematurely white in a boisterous and decided manner.

At sight of Mr.

Utterson, he sprang up from his chair and welcomed him with both hands.

A geniality, as was the way of the man, was somewhat theatrical to the eye, but it reposed on genuine feeling.

For these two were old friends, old mates both at school and college, both thorough respecters of themselves and of each other.

And what does not always follow men who thoroughly enjoy each other's company.

After a little rambling talk, the lawyer led up to the subject which so disagreeably preoccupied his mind.

I suppose, Lanyon, said he, you and I must be the two oldest friends that Henry Jekyll has.

I wish the friends were younger, chuckled Dr.

Lanyon, but I suppose we are.

And what of that?

I see little of him now.

Indeed, said Utterson, I thought you had a bond of common interest.

We had, was the reply.

But it is more than ten years since Henry Jekyll became too fanciful for me.

He began to go wrong, wrong in mind.

And though, of course I continue to take an interest in him for old sake's sake, as they say.

I see.

And I've seen devilish little of the man.

Such unscientific balderdash, added the doctor, flushing suddenly purple.

What of a strange daemon and pytheus?

This little spirit of temper was somewhat of relief to Mr.

Utterson.

They've only differed on some point of science, he thought, and being a man of no scientific passions except in the matter of conveyancing, he even added, It is nothing worse than that.

He gave his friend a few seconds to recover his composure and then approached the question he had come to put.

Did you ever come across a protege of his, one Hyde?

He asked.

Hyde repeated lanyon, no, never heard of him since my time.

That was the amount of information that the lawyer carried back with him to the great dark bed on which he tossed to and fro until the small hours of the morning began to grow large.

It was a night of little ease to his toiling mind, toiling in mere darkness and besieged by questions.

00 struck on the bells of the church that was so conveniently near to Mr Utterson's dwelling.

And still he was digging at the problem hitherto.

It had touched him on the intellectual side alone, but now his imagination also was engaged, or rather enslaved.

And as he lay and tossed in the gross darkness of the night in the curtained room, mr Enfield's tale went by before his mind.

In a scroll of lighted pictures.

He would be aware of the great field of lamps of a nocturnal city, then of the figure of a man walking swiftly, then of a child running from the doctors.

And then these met, and that human juggernaut trod the child down and passed on, regardless of her screams.

Or else he would see a room in a rich house where his friend lay asleep, dreaming and smiling at his dreams.

And then the door of that room would be opened, the curtains of the bed plucked apart, the sleeper recalled, and lo, there would stand by his side a figure to whom power was given.

And even at that dead hour he must rise and do its bidding.

The figure in these two phases haunted the lawyer all night and if at any time he dozed over, it was but to see it glide more stealthily through sleeping houses or move the more swiftly and still the more swiftly even to dizziness through wider labyrinths of Lamplighted City and at every street corner crush a child and leave her screaming.

And still the figure had no face by which he might know it.

Even in his dreams it had no face, a one that baffled him and melted before his eyes.

And thus it was that there sprang up and grew a pace in the lawyer's mind a singularly strong, almost an inordinate curiosity, to behold the features of the real Mr Hyde.

If he could but once set eyes on him, he thought, the mystery would lighten and perhaps roll altogether away, as was the habit of mysterious things when well examined.

He might see a reason for his friend's strange preference or bondage.

Call it what you please, and even for the startling claws of the will, at least it would be a face worth seeing, the face of a man who was without bowels of mercy a face which had but to show itself to raise up in the mind of the unimpressionable Enfield a spirit of enduring hatred.

From that time forward, Mr.

Utterson began to haunt the door in the By Street of shops.

In the morning, before office hours, at noon, when business was plenty and time scarce, at night, under the face of the fogged city moon, by all lights and at all hours of solitude or concourse the lawyer was to be found on his chosen post.

If he be Mr.

Hyde, he had thought, I shall be Mr.

Seek.

And at last his patience was rewarded.

It was a fine dry night, frost in the air the streets as clean as a ballroom floor the lamps unshaken by any wind, drawing a regular pattern of light and shadow.

00, when the shops were closed, the by street was very solitary and in spite of the low growl of London from all round, very silent, small sounds carried far.

Domestic sounds out of the houses were clearly audible on either side of the roadway and the rumor of the approach of any passenger preceded him.

By a long time Mr.

Utterson had been some minutes at his post when he was aware of an OD light footstep drawing near.

In the course of his nightly patrols he had long grown accustomed to the quaint effect with which the footfalls of a single person, while he's still a great way off, suddenly spring out distinct from the vast and clatter of the city.

Yet his attention had never before been so sharply and decisively arrested and it was with a strong, superstitious provision of success that he withdrew into the entry of the court.

The steps drew swiftly nearer and swelled out suddenly louder as they turned to the end of the street.

The lawyer looking forth from the entry could soon see what manner of man he had to deal with.

He was small and very plainly dressed and the look of him, even at that distance, went somehow strongly against the watcher's inclination.

But he made straight for the door, crossing the roadway to save time and as he came he drew a key from his pocket like one approaching home.

Mr.

Utterson stepped out and touched him on the shoulder as he passed Mr.

Hyde.

I think mr.

Hyde shrank back with a hissing intake of the breath but his fear was only momentary and though he did not look the lawyer in the face he answered coolly enough, that is my name.

What do you want?

I see you're going in, returned the lawyer.

I'm an old friend of Dr.

Jekyll's.

Mr.

Utterson of Gone Street.

You must have heard of my name.

And meeting you so conveniently, I thought you might admit me.

You will not find Dr.

Jekyll.

He is from home, replied Mr.

Hyde, blowing in the key.

And then suddenly, but still without looking.

Up how did you know me?

He asked on your side, said Mr.

Utterson.

Will you do me a favor?

With pleasure, replied the other.

What shall it be?

Will you let me see your face?

Asked the lawyer.

Mr.

Hyde appeared to hesitate and then, as if upon some sudden reflection, fronted about with an air of defiance.

And the pair stared at each other pretty fixedly for a few seconds.

Now I shall know you again, said Mr.

Utterson.

It may be useful.

Yes, returned Mr.

Hyde, it is as well we have met.

And the proposts.

You should have my address.

And he gave a number of a street in Soho.

Good God, thought Mr.

Utterson, can he too have been thinking of the will?

But he kept his feelings to himself and only grunted acknowledgement of the address.

And now, said the other, how did you know me?

By description, was the reply.

Whose description?

We have common friends, said Mr.

Utterson.

Common friends?

Echoed Mr.

Hyde, a little hoarsely.

Who are they?

Jekyll, for instance, said the lawyer.

He never told you?

Cried Mr.

Hyde with a flush of anger.

I did not think you would have lied.

Come, said Mr.

Utterson, that is not fitting language.

The other snarled aloud into a savage laugh.

And the next moment, with extraordinary quickness, he had unlocked the door and disappeared into the house.

The lawyer stood a while when Mr.

Hyde had left him a picture of Disquietude.

Then he began slowly to mount the street, pausing every step or two and putting his hand to his brow like a man in mental perplexity.

The problem he was thus debating as he walked was one of a class that is rarely solved.

Mr.

Hyde was pale and dorfish.

He gave an impression of deformity without any nameable malformation.

He had a displeasing smile.

He had borne himself to the lawyer with a sort of murderous mixture of timidity and boldness, and he spoke with a husky whispering and somewhat broken voice.

All these were points against him, but not all of these together could explain the hitherto unknown disgust, loathing and fear with which Mr.

Utterson regarded him.

There must be something else, said the perplexed gentleman.

There is something more, if I could find a name for it.

God bless me, the man seems hardly human.

Something troglodytic, shall we say?

Or can it be the old story of Dr fell?

Or is it the mere radiance of a foul's soul that thus transpires through and transfigures its clay continent?

The last, I think for, oh, my poor old hairy Jekyll.

If ever I read Satan's signature upon a face, it is on that of your new friend.

Round the corner from the by street there was a square of ancient handsome houses, now for the most part decayed from their high estate and led in flats and chambers to all sorts and conditions of men map engravers, architects, shady lawyers and the agents of obscure enterprises.

One house, however, second from the corner was still occupied entire.

And at the door of this which wore a great air of wealth and comfort that was now plunged in darkness except for the fan light, mr.

Utterson stopped and knocked.

A well dressed, elderly servant opened the door.

Is Dr.

Jekyll at home, Poole?

Asked the lawyer.

I will see Mr.

Utterson, said Poole.

Admitting the visitor as he spoke into a large, low roofed, comfortable hall paved with flags, warmed after the fashion of a country house by a bright open fire and furnished with costly cabinets of oak.

Will you wait here by the fire, sir, or shall I give you a light in the dining room?

Here.

Thank you, said the lawyer, and he drew near and leaned on the tall fender.

This hall, in which he was now left alone was a pet fancy of his friend, the doctor's, and Utterson himself was wont to speak of it as the pleasantest room in London.

But tonight there was a shudder in his blood, the face of hides that heavy on his memory.

He felt what was rare with him a nausea and distaste of life.

And in the gloom of his spirits he seemed to read a menace in the flickering of the firelight on the polished cabinets and the uneasy starting of the shadow on the roof.

He was ashamed of his relief when Poole presently returned to announce that Dr.

Jekyll was gone out.

I saw Mr.

Hyde go in by the old dissecting room pool, he said.

Is that right?

When Dr.

Jekyll's from home.

Quite right, Mr.

Utterson, sir, replied the servant.

Mr.

Hyde has a key.

Your master seems to repose a great deal of trust in that young man, Poole, resumed the other musingly.

Yes, sir, he does indeed, said Poole.

We have all orders to obey him.

I do not think I ever met Mr.

Hyde.

Asked Utterson.

Oh, dear, no, sir, he never dines.

Here, replied the butler.

Indeed, we see very little of him on this side of the house.

He mostly comes and goes by the laboratory.

Well, good night, Poole.

Good night, Mr.

Utterson.

And the lawyer set out homeward with a very heavy heart.

Poor Harry jekyll, he thought My mind misgives me.

He is in deep waters.

He was wild when he was young, a long while ago, to be sure.

But in the law of God there's no statute of limitations.

Ay it must be that the ghost of some old sin, the cancer of some concealed disgrace, punishment coming pied Claudetto, years after memory is forgotten and self love condoned the fault.

And the lawyer, scared by the thought, rooted a while on his own past, groping in all the corners of memory.

Least by chance, some jack in the box of an old iniquity should leap to light there.

His past was fairly blameless.

Few men could read the roles of their life with less apprehension yet he was humbled to the dust by the many ill things he had done and raised up again into a sober and fearful gratitude by the many he had come so near to doing yet avoided.

And then by a return on his former subject, he conceived a spark of hope.

Miss Master Hyde.

If he were studied, thought, he must have secrets of his own.

Black secrets, by the look of them.

Secrets compared to which poor Jekyll's worst would be like sunshine.

Things could not continue as they are.

It turns me cold to think of this creature stealing like a thief to Harry's bedside.

Poor Harry.

What awakening and the danger of it.

For if this hide suspects the existence of the will, he may grow impatient to inherit.

I must put my shoulders to the wheel, if Jekyll will but let me, he added, if Jekyll will only let me.

For once more he saw before his mind's eye as clear as transparency, the strange clauses of the will.

Thank you for joining Bite at a Time Books today while we read a bite of one of your favorite classics.

Again, my name is Brie Carlyle, and I hope you come back tomorrow for the next bite of the Strange Case of Dr.

Jekyll and Mr.

Hyde.

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