Трек 12_01

Chapter Twelve

Dr. Lanyon’s Statement

On the 9th of January, now four days ago, I received by the evening post a registered envelope addressed to me in the hand of my old school friend, Henry Jekyll. I was surprised by this, for I had dined with the man the night before, and I could imagine nothing that might have happened to make him take this step. The contents increased my wonder; for this is how the letter ran:

Dear Lanyon,

You are one of my oldest friends, and, though we may not always have seen eye to eye on scientific questions, I do not think there has been any real break in our friendship. Lanyon, my life is at your mercy. If you fail me tonight I am lost.

I ask you, no matter what other affairs you may have on hand, to drive straight to my house when you have read these words. Poole has his orders; you will find him waiting your arrival with a locksmith. The door of my study is then to be forced. You are to go in alone, open the cupboard door on the left hand, breaking the lock if it be shut, and to take out the fourth drawer from the top. You may know the right drawer by its contents: some powders, a bottle, and a paper book. This drawer I beg of you to carry to Cavendish Square.

You should be back before midnight. At that time, I ask you to be alone in your consulting-room, and to admit into the house by your own hand a man who will present himself in my name, and to give him the drawer that you will have brought from the study. Then you will have played your part and earned my gratitude completely. Five minutes afterwards, if you insist upon an explanation, you will see that these arrangements are of the first importance to me. If you fail me, indeed, I am sure that you will have my death on your conscience.

My hand trembles at the bare thought of such a possibility. Think of me at this hour, in a strange place and in a dark despair, and know that if you serve me as I ask, my troubles will roll away like a story that is told. Serve me, my dear Lanyon, and save

Your friend,

H.J.

When I had read this letter, I felt sure that my friend was mad-but until I knew that for certain I felt bound to do as he asked. I rose at once and drove straight to Jekyll’s house. Poole was awaiting my arrival, and had a locksmith with him. We moved at once to Jekyll’s study. The door was very strong, and it took the locksmith almost an hour to open it. The cupboard that Jekyll had mentioned was not locked, I took out the drawer, tied it in a sheet, and returned with it to Cavendish Square.

Here I examined its contents. The powders, I thought, were of Jekyll’s own manufacture. The bottle was about half full of a blood-red liquid. The book contained little but a series of dates, made over many years, ending suddenly nearly a year ago. All this stirred my curiosity, but told me nothing. How these things could mean life or death to Jekyll I could not make out. The more I thought about it, indeed, the more sure I became that I was dealing with a madman-and, though I sent my servants off to bed, I loaded an old revolver, that I might have some weapon to defend myself if the need arose.

Twelve o’clock had scarce rung out over London, when the knocker sounded very gently on the door. I went myself, and found a small man waiting on the step.

«Are you from Dr. Jekyll?» I asked.

He nodded quickly, and I told him to enter. He first gave a searching backward glance into the square. There was a policeman not far off, advancing with a lantern; and at the sight I thought my visitor started and made greater haste. I did not at all like the look of this, and as I followed him into the bright light of the consulting-room I kept my hand ready on my revolver.