Трек 10_01

Chapter Ten

The Last Night

Mr Utterson was sitting by his fire on a night in March, a bottle of good wine close to hand, when he heard the front doorbell ring. A minute later Jekyll’s servant, Poole, was shown into the room.

«Bless me, Poole, what brings you here?» cried the lawyer; and then, taking a second look at the man’s face, «What’s wrong?» he added. «Is the doctor ill?»

«Mr. Utterson,» said the man, «there’s something wrong.»

The lawyer came to his feet.

«Here, take a chair,» he said, «and let me pour you a glass of wine. Now, sit down, take your time, and tell me what you want.»

Poole sank into a chair, and took a glass of wine like a man in a dream. His hand shook, the wine spilled, but he did not seem to see it.

«Now, Poole,» said the lawyer, firmly.

«Sir,» said Poole, «you know how the doctor’s been for some time now, and how he shuts himself up. Well, he’s shut up again in the laboratory, and I don’t like it, sir. Mr. Utterson, I’m-I’m afraid!»

«My good man,» said the lawyer, «try to make yourself clear. What are you afraid of?»

Poole seemed not to hear the question.

«I’ve been afraid for more than a week, sir,» he said, «and I can’t stand it any more.»

The man’s face bore out the truth of these words. He looked a frightened man, and, except for the moment when he had first spoken of his terror, he had not once looked the lawyer in the eyes. Even now, he was sitting there with the glass of wine untasted on his knee, and his eyes on a corner of the room. «I can’t stand it any more,» he repeated.

«Come,» said the lawyer, in a sharp voice, «I’ve no doubt you have some reason for these words, Poole. Try to tell me what it is.»

«I think there’s been foul play,» said Poole, hoarsely.

The lawyer stared at him.

«Foul play!» he cried. «What on earth do you mean?»

«I daren’t say, sir,» was the answer, «but will you come with me and see for yourself?»

Mr. Utterson did not hesitate. He rose and found his hat and coat. He saw, with wonder, the look of relief that at once showed itself upon Poole’s face, and noticed that the wine was still untasted when he set down the glass.

It was a wild, cold night, with a pale moon and thin clouds flying across the sky. The wind made talking difficult, and seemed to have swept the streets bare of people. Mr. Utterson thought that never before had he seen that part of London so empty of passers-by.

The square, when they got there, was full of wind and dust, and the thin trees in the garden were bent over towards the ground. Poole stopped in the middle of the path. In spite of the biting weather, he took off his hat and wiped his face with a red handkerchief. His face was white and strained.

«Well, sir,» he said, «we’re here-and God grant there be nothing wrong.»

He climbed the steps then, and knocked at the door in a guarded manner. Almost at once it was opened on the chain.

«Is that you, Poole?» asked a frightened voice within.

«It’s all right,» said Poole. «Open the door.»

The hall, when they entered it, was brightly lit. The fire was built high, and all the servants stood close around it, like a flock of frightened sheep. At sight of Mr. Utterson, the housemaid burst into tears-of joy, no doubt; and the cook, crying out, «Bless God! it’s Mr. Utterson,» ran forward as if to take him in her arms.

«What are you all doing here?» asked the lawyer, angrily. «It will not please your master, you know.»

«They’re all afraid,» said Poole.

A silence followed these words. No one denied their fright. Only the maid lifted up her voice, weeping all the more.

«Hold your tongue!» Poole said to her, and turned towards the boy who cleaned the knives.

«You,» he ordered, «hand me a candle, and we’ll see if we can get something done. Right! Now, Mr. Utterson, sir, will you please to follow me.»