o the warmth, sat Dr. Jekyll, looking deadly sick; he did not
rise to meet his visitor, but held out a cold hand and bade him welcome
in a changed voice.

"And now," said Mr. Utterson, as soon as Poole had left them, "you have
heard the news?"

The doctor shuddered. "They were crying it in the square," he said. "I
heard them in my dining-room."

"One word," said the lawyer. "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, I swear to God," cried the doctor, "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."

The lawyer listened gloomily; he did not like his friend's feverish
manner. "You seem pretty sure of him," said he; "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," replied Jekyll; "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?" asked the
lawyer.

"No," said the other. "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 has rather exposed."

Utterson ruminated awhile; he was surprised at his friend's selfishness,
and yet relieved by it. "Well," said he at last, "let me see the
letter."

The letter was written in an odd, upright hand and signed "Edward Hyde":
and it signified, briefly enough, that the writer's benefactor, Dr.
Jekyll, whom he had long so unworthily repaid for a thousand
generosities, need labour under no alarm for his safety, as he had means
of escape on which he placed a sure dependence. The lawyer liked this
letter well enough; it put a better colour on the intimacy than he had
looked for; and he blamed himself for some of his past suspicions.

"Have you the envelope?" he asked.

"I burned it," replied Jekyll, "before I thought what I was about. But
it bore no postmark. The note was hand