1 The mysterious door 
　  
　　Mr Utterson the lawyer was a quiet， serious man． Hewas shy with strangers and afraid of showing his feelings． Among friends， however， his eyes shone with kindnessand goodness．And， although this goodness never found itsway into his conversation， it showed itself in his way of life．He did not allow himself many enjoyable things in life． He ateand drank simply and， although he enjoyed the theatre，hehad not been to a play for twenty years． However， he wasgentler towards other men' s weaknesses，and was alwaysready to help rather than blame them． As a lawyer， he was often the last good person that evil-doers met on their way toprison，or worse． These people often carried with them memories of his politeness and fairness． 
　　Mr Utterson's best friend was a distant cousin calledRichard Enfield，who was well known as a fun-loving 'manabout town'．Nobody could understand why they werefriends， as they were different from each other in every way．They often took long walks together，however， marchingthrough the streets of London in companionable silence． 
　　One of these walks used to take them down a narrow sidestreet in a busy part of London． It was a clean， busy， friendlystreet with bright little shops and shiny doorknockers． Nearthe end of this street， however， stood a dark， mysterious，windowless building．The door had neither bell nor knockerand looked dusty and uncared for． Dirty children played fearlessly on the doorstep， and nobody ever opened the door todrive them away． 
　　One day，as Mr Enfield and his friend passed the building，Mr Enfield pointed to it． 
　　'Have you ever noticed that place？'he asked．'It remindsme of a very strange story．' 
　　'Really？'said Mr Utterson．'Tell me．' 
　　'Well，'began Enfield，'I was coming home about threeo'clock on a black winter morning，when suddenly I saw twopeople．The first was a short man who was walking along thestreet，and the second was a little girl who was running as fastas she could． Well，the two bumped into each other and thechild fell down．Then a terrible thing happened．The mancalmly walked all over the child's body with his heavy boots，and left her screaming on the ground．It was an inhuman thingto do．I ran after the man， caught him and fetched him back．There was already a small crowd around the screaming child．The man was perfectly cool， but he gave me a very evil look，which made me feel sick in my stomach．The child's familythen arrived， and also a doctor． The child had been sent tofetch the doctor for a sick neighbour，and was on her wayhome again． 
　　'“The child is more frightened than hurt，”said thedoctor—and that， you would think， was the end of the story．But， you see，I had taken a violent dislike to the short man．So had the child's family—that was only natural．But the doctor， who seemed a quiet， kindly man， was also looking at ourprisoner with murder in his eyes． 
　　'The doctor and I understood each other perfectly．Together we shouted at the man， and told him we would tell this story all over London so that his name would be hated． 
　　'He looked back at us with a proud，blach look．“Nameyour price，”he said． 
　　'We made him agree to a hundred pounds for the child' sfamily． With another black look， the man led us to that doorover there．He took out a key and let himself into thebuilding．Presently he came out and handed us ten pounds ingold and a cheque for ninety pounds from Coutts's Bank． Thename on the cheque was a well-known one． 
　　'“See here，”said the doctor doubtfully，“it isn't usual for aman to walk into an empty house at four in the morning andcome out with another man's cheque for nearly a hundredpounds．” 
　　'“Don't worry，”said the man with an ugly look，“I'll staywith you until the banks open，and 
　　change the chequemyself．” 
　　'So we all went off， the doctor and the prisoner and myself，and spent the rest of the night at my house．In the morningwe went together to the bank． Sure enough， the cheque wasgood， and the money was passed to the child's family．' 
　　'Well，well，'said Mr Utterson． 
　　'Yes，'said Enfield，'it's a strange story．My prisoner wasclearly a hard， cruel man． But the man whose name was onthe cheque was well known all over London for his kind andgenerous acts．Why would a man like that give his cheque to acriminal？' 
　　'And you don't know if the writer of the cheque lives inthat building？'asked Mr Utterson． 
　　'I don't like to ask，'said his friend．'In my experience，it's not a good idea to ask too many questions，in case the answers are ugly，violent ones．But I've studied the place alittle．It doesn't seem like a house． There's no other door，and the only person who uses that door is the man I've just described to you．There are three windows on the side of thehouse，which look down onto a small courtyard．The windowsare shut，but they're always clean．There's a chimney too，which is usually smoking．So somebody must live there．' 
　　The two men continued on their walk． Then Utterson brokethe silence． 
　　'Enfield，'he said，'you're right about not asking toomany questions．However，I want to ask the name of the manwho walked over the child．' 
　　'Very well，' said Enfield．'He told us his name wasHyde．' 
　　'What does he look like？' 
　　'He's not easy to describe， although I remember him perfectly．He's a strange-looking man．He's short，but has astrong， heavy body．There's something wrong with his appearance，something ugly and unpleasing—no，somethinghateful．I disliked him at once．' 
　　Mr Utterson thought deeply．'Are you sure he used a key？'he asked． 
　　'What do you mean？'asked Enfield in surprise． 
　　'I know it must seem strange，'said his friend．'But yousee， if I don't ask you the name on the cheque， it's because Iknow it already…' 
　　'Well， why didn't you tell me？'said his friend rathercrossly．'Anyway， he did have a key， and he still has it． Isaw him use it only a week ago．' 
　　Mr Utterson looked at him thoughtfully，but said nothingmore． 
　  
1 一扇神秘的门 
　  
　　律师厄特森先生是个不爱说话、一本正经的人。在陌生人面前，他非常腼腆，不爱流露自己的情感，可当着朋友，他的眼睛总闪烁着关心与真诚的光芒，虽然这种真与善在他说的话中不大找得到，可在他的待人处世中一点一滴都没有漏掉。在生活上，他从不放纵享乐，吃喝也很随意、简单；即使很喜欢看戏，他也有20年没有进过剧院了。可是，他对别人的缺点却是宽容得不能再宽容了，总是想着去帮助他们而不是责备他们。作为一名律师，他经常是罪犯走进监狱或者踏上黄泉之前见到的最后一个好人，这些人的心里会一直保留对他的温文尔雅和公正无私的记忆。 
　　厄特森先生最好的朋友是他的一个远房表亲，叫理查德·思菲尔德。这个人是城里出名的“爱热闹”，交际场里的老手。谁也搞不明白他们为何居然是朋友，他们可真有天壤之别。但他们却经常一起散步，一走就是好远，穿过伦敦的街道，安安静静地做着伴。 
　　有一次，他们散步走到伦敦闹市区一条狭窄的背街上。这条街干净、热闹，人们也和善，一家家亮亮堂堂的小商店，门环锃明透亮。但是就在街道的尽头，有一幢阴暗、神秘、没有窗户的楼房，门上既没有铃也没门环，还到处是灰，显然已好久没人打扫了。脏兮兮的孩子们在门口疯玩疯闹，也没人开门轰他们走。 
　　一天，他俩走过这幢房子，恩菲尔德指着问道：“你注意过那儿吗？它让我想起一个奇怪的故事。” 
　　“哦，是吗？”厄特森先生说，“给我讲讲。” 
　　“好吧。”恩菲尔德先生开始讲了，“那是个冬天的早上，天黑漆漆的，大概3点钟吧，我正要回家，突然看见两个人。头一个是个矮个子，正沿着街边走，第二个是个小姑娘，跑得很急。两个人一下撞到了一起，小孩儿摔倒了。接着，可怕的事发生了，那个人穿着沉甸甸的靴子，冷冷地从孩子身上压了过去，小姑娘躺在地上尖叫着。做这种事真残忍。我从后面追上来，抓住那人，把他拽了回来，这时一小群人也围到了又哭又叫的孩子身边。那个人非常镇静，一脸漠然，还狠狠地瞪了我一眼，真是让我反胃。孩子的家人这会儿也赶到了，还来了一个医生。原来小姑娘是去请医生给邻居家病人看病的，她正要回家。 
　　“'孩子与其说是伤着了不如说是吓着了。'医生是这么说的。你也许以为故事到这里就该结束了。可是你想，我对那个小个子十分厌恶，小姑娘的家人也一样——当然，这很正常，可连医生（他看上去那么和善、安静），也盯着那个罪犯看，好像恨不能把他给杀了。 
　　“我和医生彼此心照不宣，都冲着那人大声指责，并声称要让整个伦敦都知道这事，让人人都唾弃他的名字。 
　　“他阴森森地瞪了我们一眼，还是一副不可一世的样子，'开个价吧，'他说。 
　　“我们让他答应付给孩子家100英镑。他又翻了我们一眼，把我们领到那边的那扇门口，掏出钥匙，进了楼。不一会儿，他又出来了，递给我们10镑金币和一张康茨银行的支票，上面写着90英镑，支票上的名字是大家都很熟的人。 
　　“'你看，'医生满腹怀疑地说，'够奇怪的，早上4点，一个人走进一所空房子，然后又拿着另一个人签名的支票出来了，足足快100镑呢！'  
　　“'放你的心吧，'一脸凶相的矮个子说，'我和你们等着银行开门，看我自己兑钱好了。'  
　　“我们离开那儿，医生、罪犯和我到我家挨过了后半夜。到了早上，我们一道去了银行，支票是真的，没问题，钱很快就转给小姑娘家了。” 
　　“哦，是这样，”厄特森先生说。 
　　“是啊！”恩菲尔德说，“这事真怪。明明肇事者是个冷酷、残忍的家伙，可签支票的人却是伦敦有名善良、慷慨的人。这样的人怎么会把支票给一个罪犯呢？” 
　　“你们也不知道支票的主人是不是住在那幢房子里？”厄特森先生问。 
　　“我可不喜欢问，”他的朋友说，“根据我的经验，提太多的问题可没什么好的。万一得到的答案既令人厌恶又令人不安，那该如何是好？但我还是稍微研究了一下那个地方。它看起来不像一所房子，没别的门，唯一使用那扇门的人就是我刚才和你讲的那个家伙。房子一侧有三扇窗户，可以看到下面的小院，窗户都关着，但一直干干净净的。还有个烟囱常冒着烟，所以肯定有人在那儿住。” 
　　两个人接着走下去，厄特森忽然说： 
　　“恩菲尔德，你那条规矩挺不错，就是别问太多问题。尽管如此，我还是想问问踩着孩子身体走过去的那个人叫什么。” 
　　“当然了！”恩菲尔德说，“他告诉我们他叫海德。” 
　　“他什么模样？” 
　　“这一下子可说不好，虽然我清清楚楚记得他长得什么样。他长得很怪，个子又矮，身体粗壮，他的相貌哪儿有点不对劲，让人感到丑陋，不舒服——不，是让人憎恶的那种。我一看到他，马上就不喜欢他。” 
　　厄特森先生想了好一会儿，问道：“你肯定他用了钥匙吗？” 
　　“瞧你问的！”恩菲尔德一脸诧异的样子。 
　　“我知道我这么问有点怪，”朋友说，“可你想，我并没问你支票上签的是谁的名字，因为我心里已经明白了……” 
　　“那你怎么不早说呢？”朋友不无恼怒地说，“甭管怎么说，那家伙的确有钥匙，上礼拜我还看见他开门来着。” 
　　厄特森先生心事重重地看了他一眼，但没再多说什么。 
　　　    


 