Hyde Page 18

  Grey shook her head. "No. I am here to help you pack your things."

  "What?"

  Grey rose to her feet and brushed off her dress. "The police will be here quickly, no doubt. I have taken the liberty of packing you a case, but I was unsure what else you would be needing."

  She passed me to enter my rooms. My clothes had been taken down and folded neatly into a suitcase, and my toiletries laid on top. One of my favorite bottles of wine tucked into one corner of te case. My furnishings were taken down and laid against the walls. My furniture had been shifted and stacked in rows.

  Grey gestured towards them. "I thought you might want to travel lightly, but arranged your other possessions so you could have them moved as well."

  "Yes, indeed. Well done." I quickly went through my clothes, searching for anything that might identify me, and throwing other items I might need into the case. I went through my drawers and threw all my papers and notes on Jekyll's formula into the burning fireplace, and also found my cheque book and quickly hurled it into the fire. I would no longer need them.

  As I worked, I looked at Grey. "Why are you doing this? I am nothing to you but a tenant."

  She smiled at me for the first time. "You are more to me than that, Mister Hyde."

  There came a knock at the front door.

  Grey seized my arm and pulled me to what seemed to be an empty corner of the room. She pushed her foot down on one of the boards that seemed to release some sort of latch. The floorboards raised to reveal a hidden hatchway that descended into darkness.

  "Hide, quickly," she said.

  I climbed down the ladder into a secret chamber beneath the floor, and she closed the hatch above me, shrouding me in darkness. The chamber was barely large enough for me to fit into, and I was forced to squat. I heard the creaking of the boards above me as Mrs. Grey left my rooms to the front door.

  I heard the knock again, followed by the whine of the front door being opened.

  "May I help you, sir?"

  A familiar voice spoke. "My name is Utterson. I am seeking a Mister Edward Hyde. He gave me this address."

  My breath caught in my throat. Utterson! I had forgotten I gave him my address. At that moment, my life was in the hands of my housekeeper. Should she decide to turn on me, there was little I could do. There was no escape. She had merely to point them to my hiding place.

  "Yes," I heard her say, "this is Mister Hyde's lodgings, but he is not at home. He was in last night very late, but he was gone away again in less than an hour and has not returned since."

  I released my breath. She was indeed covering for me for reasons I did not understand.

  "Is that unusual for him?" asked Utterson.

  "Not at all. His habits are very irregular, and he is often absent. For instance, it was nearly two months since I had seen him till yesterday."

  "Very well. We wish to see his rooms."

  "I am sorry," started Grey, "that is impossible--"

  "I had better tell you who this person is," Utterson interrupted. "This is Inspector Newcomen of Scotland Yard."

  Newcomen again! Of course, he would be in charge of the case, having pursued me in the past.

  Joy crept into Grey's voice. "Ah, he is in trouble! What has he done?"

  I knew her manner to be a farce, since she knew full well what I had done.

  "He don't seem a very popular character," said Newcomen. "And now, my good woman, just let me and this gentleman have a look about us."

  I heard three sets of footsteps move from the entrance into the room above me. The heavier steps of men moved about the room. They murmured as they went through my belongings, observing the hurried way in which my things had been placed.

  "Ah, the other end of the cane," said the inspector. "This is the murder weapon. It clinches my suspicions. He has indeed been here."

  "Yes," said Utterson. "I still am shocked to find the cane I gave to Jekyll in Hyde's hands."

  "Here, look in the fire. He tried to burn his cheque book."

  "Delightful. That was foolish of the bloke. He will need money. We must check with his bank to see if there is money in his account. If so, we know where he shall go next. Come, we are finished here. My good woman, if Hyde returns, do not hesitate to contact Scotland Yard."

  "As you wish, sir."

  The footsteps moved to the entrance. The door closed. Lighter footsteps returned to my room before the hatch above me unlocked and swung open.

  Mrs. Grey looked down at me. "They have gone, but I cannot say that they shall not come again. I suggest you leave now, Mister Hyde, and do not return."

  I climbed out of the hidden room and faced her. "I cannot express my gratitude enough, Mrs. Grey."

  "No need to express it at all, sir."

  "But I still do not understand why you would aide me. Why did you not turn me in?"

  Mrs. Grey smiled again. "I have my reasons. I did not have to rent these rooms to you, Hyde. I saw something in you, the real you. I know who you are, Doctor Jekyll."

  My blood ran cold. "How do you know that name?"

  "That would require more time than either of us have. Suffice to say that we are both more than we appear. Leave. Now."

  She gently guided me to the door. A thousand questions rose to my tongue, but I knew she was right. The police would surely monitor this place above all, perhaps were already. The longer I stayed, the more I was threatened. It was no longer my sanctuary.

  I fled then, knowing the path that lay ahead. Without my rooms in Soho, there was only one place where I would be safe - the home of Henry Jekyll.

  I wrapped a scarf around my face as a disguise and hailed a cab to drive me to Jekyll's home.

  I arrived to find a police carriage in front of the house. My sanctuary was cut off. Without access to Jekyll's laboratory, I could not transform. I fled the scene and headed back to Soho, where I hoped to find a new place to hide. In desperation, I ducking through alleys until I came to a sewer grating. Seized with my chance, I pried up the grating and climbed down into the foul-smelling depths beneath the city. It seemed fitting for me to live there among the other unwanted elements of London. I huddled in the foul muck that flowed around me and waited. Simply waited.

  When dawn came, I emerged from my hiding place and tried to blend into the crowds and moved through alleys until I reached Jekyll's home. A young woman had attracted the attention of the officer standing guard outside my home, allowing me to rush across the courtyard and let myself into the back entrance. I prepared myself to witness the body of my dead lover on the laboratory's bench.

  She was gone.

  Of all the tragedies of the night, denying me the body of my love seemed the most unbearable. But it occurred to me that, in my grief, I had not truly determined that Rebecca - she would always be Rebecca to me - had died. The thought that she might have survived and left under her own strength shone a light upon the darkness in which I lived.

  I turned to leave, vowing to search all of Britain for her, but could not move. My arms tensed, the muscles fighting against me. Jekyll was awakened.

  "No more," my mouth growled. "No more, Hyde."

  I wanted to scream, but instead my lips clamped shut as my hands went to the chemicals and mixed them quickly together in the largest flask to create four times the usual dose. When the draught was ready, it went to my lips.

  My body swelled and twisted back into the form of Henry Jekyll.

  "Enough," he gasped. "This madness must end. My God, you have killed a man. Killed a man for harming a mere prostitute."

  Prostitute? I wanted to ask. This was Jekyll's love, too.

  Somehow, my thoughts reached Jekyll, because he shook his head. "No, she was not my love, Hyde. I merely needed her for my political career, which is over now, thanks to you. And as she said, she never loved me, only you, which makes her less than human in my eyes."

  I must find Rebecca.

  "No. It is over. We have greater problems than a dead girl's corpse
.You are a wanted man. You can never be seen again. I shall not go to the gallows for your crimes, Hyde. I shall never release you again."

  Jekyll wiped sweat from his brow and sank into a chair to work at his chemicals. In his mind, I raged, screamed, cursed him with every foul expression I could imagine. Had I the ability, I would have throttled him with my bare hands. He ignored it all, instead taking pen and paper to write a letter. I felt curious as to why he wrote the letter with his hand slanting in the opposite direction from normal. As he wrote, I read the note and understood his methods. Jekyll was indeed a sly fellow.

  At mid-afternoon, there was a knock at the door. It was Poole, who said, "Sir, Mister Utterson is here to see you."

  "Yes, show him in."

  Jekyll set the letter he had been writing on the desk before him, then settled himself back and purported to look grief-stricken just before Utterson entered the laboratory.

  Utterson waited until Poole had left to ask, "And now, you have heard the news?"

  Jekyll's body shuddered as he said, "They were crying it in the square. I heard them in my dining-room."

  "One word. Carew was my client, but so are you, and I want to know what I am doing. You have not been mad enough to hide this fellow?"

  "Utterson," said Jekyll, "I swear to God, I swear to God I will never set eyes on him again. I bind my honour to you that I am done with him in this world. It is all at an end. And indeed he does not want my help. You do not know him as I do. He is safe, he is quite safe. Mark my words, he will never more be heard of."

  Utterson looked down at Jekyll with a gloomy expression. "You seem pretty sure of him, and for your sake, I hope you may be right. If it came to a trial, your name might appear."

  "I am quite sure of him. I have grounds for certainty that I cannot share with any one. But there is one thing on which you may advise me. I have - I have received a letter; and I am at a loss whether I should show it to the police. I should like to leave it in your hands, Utterson. You would judge wisely, I am sure. I have so great a trust in you."

  "You fear, I suppose, that it might lead to his detection?"

  "No, I cannot say that I care what becomes of Hyde; I am quite done with him. I was thinking of my own character, which this hateful business had rather exposed."

  Utterson paused a moment in thought, then held out his hand. "Well, let me see the letter."

  Jekyll held out the letter for Utterson to read. I knew what it read since I had seen Jekyll write it himself. It was a letter claiming to be from me, saying goodbye to Jekyll and assuring him that I (the supposed author) had a means of escape that would prevent us from seeing each other again. In short, the letter absolved Jekyll of any connection to the murder and portrayed me as being long gone from his sight.

  Utterson smiled as he read the letter, showing obvious relief. "Well, I like this letter well enough. It puts a better colour on your relationship with Hyde than I had feared. Have you the envelope?"

  "I burned it," said Jekyll, "before I thought what I was about. But it bore no postmark. The note was handed in."

  "Shall I keep this and sleep upon it?"

  "I wish you to judge for me entirely. I have lost confidence in myself."

  "Well, I shall consider. And now one word more: it was Hyde who dictated the terms in your will about that disappearance?"

  Jekyll feigned a sudden wave of faintness and clamped his mouth shut before nodding.

  "I knew it," said Utterson. "He meant to murder you. You have had a fine escape."

  "I have had what is far more to the purpose. I have had a lesson. Oh God, Utterson, what a lesson I have had."

  Jekyll covered his face with his hands. I found his histrionics most overbearing, but Utterson seemed to be relishing them. I knew not how much of his manner was genuine. To be sure, the knowledge that he housed a murderer certainly had affected Jekyll's mood.

  Jekyll drew the other letter he had been writing and held it out to the lawyer. "I have taken the liberty of penning a new will that does not include Hyde. Please take it and dispose of the former."

  "Of course." Utterson folded both papers and placed them inside his coat. "Well, I must be off. Take care, Jekyll. I hope to see more of you in the future from this point on."

  "Indeed, you shall. I apologize for my hermit-like ways of late. I shall endevour to correct them."

  The two shook hands and Utterson left. Jekyll closed the laboratory, and went out the back entrance to lock it shut. He then ground the key under his heel into the dirt, making unlocking the door impossible. By this, Jekyll resigned himself to his fate.

  Jekyll retired to his room, and dropped to his knees in prayer. The prayer lasted for hours with many tears and murmuring pleas for forgiveness. Once the prayer was cast, Jekyll crawled into his bed and into a sound sleep. I spent the remainder of the night attempting to change, but failed. I did not know if it was due to the extra dose of the drug that Jekyll had taken or his strength of conviction, but I was now confined inside of Jekyll. And so I remained.

  Chapter Twenty-Two - The Ultimate Fate of Jekyll and Hyde

  MONTHS WENT by. Jekyll made good on his promise to Utterson, showing himself frequently at parties, social events, and his church. He spent no time in his laboratory. It seemed Jekyll had been ultimately cured of his scientific curiosity. I could feel the stirring of desires towards sin, but he managed to resist them well.

  The police distributed handbills with my likeness all over London. Carew's family offered a sizable reward for my death or capture. It seemed as if everyone I ever knew was interrogated as to my whereabouts. The newspapers published regular accounts of my scandalous behaviour, decrying my moral character.

  I remained inside of Jekyll, alone and incapable of escape. I still had no success in transforming Jekyll myself. I could only assume that the knowledge that my appearance could lead to his execution for the murder of Carew gave him a will far stronger than mine. I could not overwhelm it.

  The thought of Rebecca's fate haunted me constantly, and my imprisonment only made it worse. The question of her death remained much on my mind. Was she truly dead? If so, what was the fate of her corpse? If she was alive, where had she gone? Why had she not returned to me now that she knew my secret? All these questions ran through me during the hours of my exile and ultimately consumed me to the point where I felt I would go mad.

  One afternoon, Poole came to Jekyll's office with a card. "Sir, Brigadier General Strong is here to see you."

  Jekyll set down his book and leaned forward. I could feel his shock, which mirrored my own. Besides the fact that Strong had never visited Jekyll at his home before, we had assumed that the general would have little to do with us after the broken engagement to his daughter.

  "Show him to the drawing room," said Jekyll as he took a moment to adjust the knot on his tie and otherwise make himself presentable.

  Jekyll headed downstairs to his drawing room. General Strong stood in the drawing room, looking more frail than I had ever seen him. All his posture and bravado had vanished, leaving him a trembling old man leaning on a cane.

  Yet the moment Jekyll entered the room, Strong reached down and yanked the head of his cane. The head came loose to reveal the blade of a sword hidden in the cane. Strong wheeled around into a crouching stance to aim the sword at Jekyll.

  "Where is she?" the general croaked.

  Jekyll held his hands up and stumbled back against the wall. "Where is who?"

  "Do not toy with me, Jekyll," roared the general. " I warned you what would happen if you caused me to lose Charlotte."

  He lunged at Jekyll, who scurried aside, knocking a vase off a shelf in the process. The vase shattered at his feet.

  "Brigadier General," Jekyll blurted, holding out his hands. "I assure you, I do not have the slightest idea what you are talking about."

  The general leaned against the wall, gasping for breath, but managed to raise the sword again. "Yes, you do. I've not seen Charlotte in months. S
he disappeared one night from her bedroom."

  "I swear on my honor, sir, I know nothing of the fate of your daughter."

  The general lowered the sword and gave way to tears. "You were my last hope. My last hope of finding her. I beg of you, if you learn of Charlotte's whereabouts, send them to me. My only wish is to die with knowledge of her fate."

  He inserted the sword back into his cane and stumbled out of the house.

  Jekyll took a moment to calm himself before returning to his book. I sensed no more concern for her. Jekyll truly was a cold-hearted man.

  On a crisp January morning, Jekyll was sitting on a park bench in Regents' Park, admiring the winter scene and passers-by. He lingered a moment to admire the form of a beautiful woman that walked by, pushing a pram with a gurgling child. A strong wind caught the edge of the woman's skirt and raised it higher, exposing her calf.

  I felt the desire swell within Jekyll, and with it a gaining of strength. I knew the moment had come. I invoked all my power to trigger the change. I succeeded. Jekyll let out a gurgle of horror as his body swept into convulsions. He had the presence of mind to stumble off the bench and into a nearby shrub, where the transformation was complete. I was free once more.

  I did not fear arrest or capture. I merely wanted the truth. I hailed a hansom and headed straight for the boarding house where Rebecca had lived. Apparently, my oversized clothes gave me a comical appearance because the driver chuckled. I gnashed my teeth at him in a manner that silenced him. Just as well. In my current mood, I would have dragged him down from his perch and torn him apart.

  At the boarding house, I found a stranger living in Rebecca's rooms, who said she had never seen or heard from her. I next went to the general's home, where I sent the cab driver to inquire on Charlotte. He returned with the news that Charlotte was not home and had not been seen for months. There was speculation that Hyde had been involved in her disappearance. It seemed I was being blamed for all manner of crimes in those days.

  There seemed only one other option to pursue. I went to the morgue.

  I asked the mortician if a body had been turned in on the date that Rebecca had vanished. He immediately agreed.