Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the sixth 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 Lewis Stevenson.

Incident of Dr.

Lanyon time ran on Thousands of pounds were offered in reward, for the death of Sir Danvers was resented as a public injury.

But Mr.

Hyde disappeared out of the ken of the police as though he had never existed.

Much of his past was unearthed indeed, and all disreputable tales came out of the man's cruelty, at once so callous and violent of his vile life, of his strange associates, of the hatred that seemed to have surrounded his career, but of his present whereabouts.

Not a whisper from the time he had left the house in Soho on the morning of the murder.

He was simply blotted out, and gradually, as time drew on, Mr.

Utterson began to recover from the hotness of his alarm and to grow more quiet with himself.

The death of Sir Danvers was, to his way of thinking, more than paid for by the disappearance of Mr.

Hyde.

Now that that evil influence had been withdrawn, a new life began for Dr.

Jekyll.

He came out of his seclusion.

Renewed relations with his friends became once more their familiar guest and entertainer, and whilst he had always been known for charities, he was now no less distinguished for religion.

He was busy.

He was much in the open air.

He did good.

His face seemed to open and brighten, as if with an inward consciousness of service, and for more than two months the doctor was at peace.

On the 8 January, Utterson had dined at the doctors with a small party.

Lanyon had been there, and the face of the host had looked from one to the other, as in the old days, when the trio were inseparable friends.

On the 12th and again on the 14th, the door was shut against the lawyer.

The doctor was confined to the house Pool said, and saw no one.

On the 15th, he tried again, and was again refused, and having now been used for the last two months to see his friend almost daily, he found this return of solitude to weigh upon his spirits.

The fifth night he had in guests to dine with him.

The 6th, he betook himself to Dr.

Lanyon's.

There at least he was not denied admittance.

But when he came in, he was shocked at the change were to take him place in the doctor's appearance.

He had his death warrant written legibly upon his face.

The rosy man had grown pale, his flesh had fallen away, he was visibly balder and older.

And yet it was not so much these tokens of a swift physical decay that arrested the lawyer's notice as a look in the eye and quality of manner that seemed to testify to some deep seated terror of the mind.

It was unlikely that the doctor should fear death, and yet that was what Utterson was tempted to suspect.

Yes, he thought, he is a doctor.

He must know his own state, and that his days are counted and the knowledge is more than he can bear.

And yet, when Utterson remarked on his ill looks, it was with an air of great firmness that Lanyon declared himself a doomed man.

I have had a shock, he said, and I shall never recover.

It is a question of weeks.

Well, life has been pleasant.

I liked it.

Yes, sir, I used to like it.

I sometimes think if we knew all.

We should be more glad to get away.

Jekyll is ill too, observed Utterson.

Have you seen him?

But Lanyon's face changed, and he held up a trembling hand.

I wish to see or hear no.

More of Dr.

Jekyll, he said in a loud, unsteady voice.

I am quite done with that person.

And I beg that you will spare.

Me any allusion to one whom I regard as dead.

Tut.

Tut, said Mr Utterson.

And then, after a considerable pause can't I do anything?

He inquired.

We are three very old friends, Lanyon.

We shall not live to make others.

Nothing can be done, returned Lanyon.

Ask himself.

He will not see me, said the lawyer.

I'm not surprised at that, was the reply.

Someday, Utterson, after I'm dead, you may perhaps come to learn the right and wrong of this I cannot tell you.

And in the meantime, if you can.

Sit and talk with me of other things.

For God's sake, stay and do so.

But if you cannot keep clear of this accursed topic, then in God's name, go, for I cannot bear it.

As soon as he got home, Utterson sat down and wrote to Jekyll complaining of his exclusion from the house and asking the cause of this unhappy break with Lanyon.

And the next day brought him a long answer, often very pathetically worded and sometimes starkly mysterious in drift.

A quarrel with Lanyon was incurable.

I do not blame our old friend Jackal wrote, but I share his view that we must never meet.

I mean from henceforth, to lead a life of extreme seclusion.

You must not be surprised, nor must you doubt my friendship if my door is often shut even to you.

You must suffer me to go my own dark way.

I've brought on myself a punishment and a danger that I cannot name.

If I'm the Chief of Sinners, I'm the Chief of Sufferers also.

I cannot think that this earth contained a place for sufferings and terrors so unmanning.

And you can do but one thing, Utterson to lighten this destiny and that.

Is to respect my silence.

Utterson was amazed.

The dark influence of Hyde had been withdrawn.

The doctor had returned to his old tasks and amities.

A week ago, the prospect had smiled with every promise of a cheerful and an honored age.

And now, in a moment, friendship and peace of mind and the whole tenor of his life were wrecked.

So great and unprepared a change pointed to madness.

But in view of Lanyon's manner and words, there must lie for it some deeper ground.

A week afterwards, Dr.

Lanyon took to his bed and in something less than a fortnight, he was dead.

The night after the funeral at which he had been sadly affected, Utterson locked the door of his business room and sitting there by the light of a melancholy candle, drew out and set before him an envelope addressed by the hand and sealed with the seal of his dead friend private.

For the hands of G.

J.

Utterson alone and in case of his predeceased to be destroyed, Unread.

So it was emphatically superscribed and the lawyer dreaded to behold the contents.

I have buried one friend today, he thought.

What if this should cost me another?

And then he condemned the fear as a disloyalty and broke the seal.

Within there was another enclosure, likewise sealed and marked upon the COVID as not to be opened till the death or disappearance of Dr.

Henry Jekyll.

Utterson could not trust his eyes.

Yes, it was a disappearance here again.

As in the mad will which he had long ago restored to its author.

Here again were the idea of a disappearance in the name of Henry Jekyll Bracketed.

But in the will that idea had sprung from the sinister suggestion of the man Hyde.

It was set there with a purpose all too plain and horrible.

Written by the hand of Lanyon.

What should it mean?

A great curiosity came on the trustee to disregard the prohibition and dive at once to the bottom of these mysteries.

But professional honor and faith to his dead friend were stringent obligations and the packet slept in the inmost corner of his private safe.

It is one thing to mortify curiosity, another to conquer it.

And it may be doubted if from that day forth Utterson desired the society of his surviving friend with the same eagerness.

He thought of him kindly, but his thoughts were disquieted and fearful.

He went to call indeed.

But he was perhaps relieved to be denied admittance.

Perhaps in his heart he preferred to speak with Poole upon the doorstep and surrounded by the air and sounds of the open city rather than to be admitted into that house of voluntary bondage and to sit and speak with its inscrutable recluse.

Poole had indeed no very pleasant news to communicate.

The doctor, it appeared, now more than ever, can find himself to the cabinet over the laboratory where he would sometimes even sleep.

He was out of spirits.

He had grown very silent.

He did not read.

It seemed as if he had something on his mind.

Utterson became so used to the unvarying character of these reports that he fell off little by little in the frequency of his visits.

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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