7 The last night 
　  
　　It was now March， and Mr Utterson was sitting by thefire after dinner，when he was surprised to receive avisitfrom Doctor Jekyll's servant，Poole．The old man looked paleand frightened． 
　　'Mr Utterson，he said，'something is wrong．' 
　　'Sit down by the fire and tell me all abut it．' 
　　'The doctor's locked himself up in his study， sir．' 
　　'That's quite usual， surely，' said the lawyer． 'You knowyour master's habits as well as I do．He often shuts himselfaway from the world．' 
　　'Yes，but this time it's different． It frightens me， sirI've been frightened for more than a week now， and I justcan't go on any longer． 
　　He stopped and stared down at the floor． 
　　'Try and tell me， Poole，'said Mr Utterson gently． 'Something terrible is happening to my master．I can't explain． But… please，sir，can you come with me and see foryourself？' 
　　At once Mr Utterson fetched his coat and hat． 
　　'Thank you， sir，'whispered Poole gratefully． 
　　Together they made their way to Doctor Jekyll's house． Itwas a wild，stormy night．To Mr Utterson the streets seemedstrangely empty and lonely． The square， when they reachedit， was full of wind and flying dust． The thin trees were blowing wildly， and untidy grey clouds were sailing past a pale，sickly moon． 
　　'Well，sir，'said Poole，' here we are， and I hope that nothing is wrong．'He knocked softly at the front door． The doorwas opened just a little and a voice from inside asked，'Is thatyou，Poole？' 
　　'Yes-open the door．' 
　　The hall，when they entered，was brightly lit．A good firewas burning．The room was full of people-every servant inthe house was there．They looked like a crowd of frightenedchildren． 
　　'What's all this？'said the lawyer．'What are you all doinghere？ Your master would not be pleased．' 
　　'They're frightened，'said Poole simply．No one elsespoke．A little servant girl began to cry． 
　　'Quiet！'said Poole sharply，trying to control his own fear．'Now-fetch me a light and we'll finish this business at once．Mr Utterson， sir， please follow me．'He led the way across theback garden towards the laboratory． 
　　'Come as quietly as you can， sir．I want you to hear， but Idon't want him to hear you．And sin－if he asks you to go inside-don't go！' 
　　Mr Utterson's heart gave a little jump of fear， but hebravely followed the servant into the laboratory to the bottomof the stairs． 
　　'Wait here， sir-and listen carefully，whispered Poole． Hehimself，again controlling his fear， climbed the stairs andknocked on the study door． 
　　'Mr Utterson would like to see you， sir，'he called． 
　　'Tell him I cannot see anyone，' said a voice from inside theStudy． 
　　'Thank you，sir，'said Poole．He led Mr Utterson backacross the garden and into the house． 'Sir，'he said， 'was thatmy master's voice？' 
　　The lawyer's face was pale． 'It has changed，'he said． 
　　'Changed？ You're right，'said Poole．'I've worked forDoctof Jekyll for twenty years．That was not my master's voice．Someone has murdered my master． Eight days ago weheard his voice for the last time．“Dear God！”he cried-thenno more．The voice you heard just now was the voice of hismuderer！' 
　　'This is an extraordinary story， my good man，'said Mr Utterson． He tried hard to appear calm．'If Dr Jekyll has beenmurdered-why is his murderer still there？ What reason couldhe possibly have for staying？' 
　　'Perhaps you don't believe me， sir， but I know what Iheard．For a week now the person-or thing-in that studyhas been crying night and day for some special chemical powders．My master was in the habit，when he was particularlybusy with his scientific work，of writing orders on pieces ofpaper and leaving them on the stairs．'We've had nothing elsethis week， nothing except written orders and a locked door．I've been to every chemist in town in search of these chemicalsof his，but they were never right．They weren't pure enough，he said． I had to take them back to the shop，and try anotherchemist．I don't know what these chemicals are，but the person in that study wants them terribly badly．' 
　　'Did you keep any of these written orders？'asked Mr Utterson． 
　　Poole reached in his pocket and brought out a note．Thelawyer read it carefully．It said：'I am returning your chemicals，as they are impure and therefore useless．In the year18-you made up a mixture of chemical powders for DoctorHenry Jekyll． Please search your cupboards for some more ofthe same mixture and send it to Doctor Jekyll AT ONCE．Thisis VERY IMPORTANT．' 
　　'This is a strange note，'said Mr Utterson． 
　　'The chemist thought so too，' sir，'said Poole．'When I tookhim this note，he cried，“All my chemicals are pure，and youcan tell your master so！”and he threw the note back at me．' 
　　'Are you sure this is your master's handwriting？' asked MrUtterson． 
　　'Of course，sir，'said Poole．'But what does handwritingmatter？ I've seen my master's murderer！' 
　　'Seen him？'repeated Mr Utterson． 
　　'Yes！It was like this．I came suddenly into the laboratoryfrom the garden．I think he had left the study to look forsomething．The study door was open and there he was at thefar end of the laboratory．He was searching among some oldboxes．He looked up when I came in， gave a kind of cry andran upstairs and into the study．I only saw him for a moment，but my blood seemed to freeze．Sir，if that was my master，why was he wearing a mask over his face？ If it was my master， why did he cry out like a trapped animal and run awayfrom me？ I've been his servant for twenty years．And then …'Poole paused，and covered his face with his hands，tooupset to speak． 
　　'This is all very mysterious，'said Mr Utterson，' but I thinkI begin to understand．Your master， Poole，is ill．And the illness has changed his appearance．Perhaps that also explainsthe change in his voice．It certainly explains the mask and theway he has been avoiding his friends．And of course，he's searching for these chemicals he cause he believes they willmake him well again．Dear God，I hope he's right！PoorJekyll-thst is my explanation．It's sad enough，Poole，butit's normal and natural，and there's nothing to be alarmedabout．' 
　　'Sir，'said the servant，'that…thing was not my master．My master is a tall，fine，well－built man．The stranger wasmuch shorter… Sir，I have been with my master for twentyyears and I know his appearance as well as I know my own．No，sir，that thing in the mask was never Doctor Jekyll， and Ibelieve that he-it-murdered my master！' 
　　'Poole，'said the lawyer，if you say that， I must makesure． We must break down the study door．' 
　　'You're right， Mr Utterson！'cried the old servant． 
　　'Very well． Will you help me？ If we are wrong， I'll makesure that you're not blamed for it．' 
　　'There's an axe in the laboratory， suggested Poole． 
　　'You realize， Poole，'said Mr Utterson，'that this may bedangerous for us both？ Let us now be honest with each other．This masked figure that you saw-you're certain that it wasnot your master·' 
　　'That's right， sir．' 
　　'Did you in fact recognize it？' 
　　'Well，sir，it was all so quick that I'm not really sure．But－well，I think it was Mr Hyde．It was short，like MrHyde， and it moved in the same light， quick， active way． Andwho else could come in by the laboratory door from the street？You must remember，sir，that at the time of the Carew murder Mr Hyde still had the laboratory key with him． But that's not all．Mr Utterson， did you ever meet Mr Hyde？' 
　　'Yes，'replied the lawyer．'I once spoke with him．' 
　　'Then you will know， sir，that there is something strangeabout Mr Hyde，something evil．' 
　　'I agree with you，'said Mr Utterson．'I felt something likethst， too．' 
　　'Yes，sir．Well，when that thing in the mask jumped outfrom behind the boxes and ran up the stairs，I had exactly thesame feeling．That thing behind the mask was Mr Hydee！' 
　　'I understand，Poole，and I believe you，'said the lawyerslowly．'And I believe poor Henry Jekyll has been murdered．I believe too that his murderer is still hiding in the study．Now， Poole， let's go and make an end of it．' 
　　Together they went out into the back garden．The cloudshad covered the moon and it was now quite dark． As theypassed silently by the wall of the laboratory， they stopped andlistened．Further away they could hear the everyday noises of aLondon evening． From the study above them， however，camethe sound of footsteps moving backwards and forwards acrossthe floor． 
　　'It walks like that all day，sir，'whisperedPoole，'yes，andmost of the night too．It only stops when some more chemicalsarrive from the chemist．Ah， sir，listen to that-do you thinkthose are my master's footsteps？' 
　　The short，light steps were indeed very different from Henry Jekyll's long，heavy ones． 
　　'Have you anything else to tell me，Poole？'asked thelawyer heavily． 
　　'Once，'said Poole，'I heard it weeping．' 
　　'Weeping？'repeated Mr Utterson in horror． 
　　'Weeping like a lost child，'said the old servant．'It tore myheart． I felt like weeping too．' 
　　'well，'said the lawyer，'we have a job to do．' 
　　They went into the laboratory and climbed the stairs to thestudy．'Jekyll，'called the lawyer in a loud voice，'I must seeyou．'He paused for a moment，but there was no reply．'Ifyou refuse to let me in， then I'll break dowu the door！' 
　　'Utterson，'said a voice from inside the study，'I beg you toleave me alone！' 
　　'That's not Jekyll's voice！' shied Mr Utterson． 'It's Hyde's！Break the door down， Poole ！' 
　　The axe rose and fell．The door shook and a scream of purefear，like a trapped animal，rang from the study． Again theaxe crashed against the door．But the wood was strong and thelock was well made．At last， however， the door fell inwardsupon the carpet． 
　　The two men stared into the study．They saw a warm，comfortable room with a good fire burning in the fireplace anda few papers on the big table． A friendly， homely room． Butface down in the middle of the floor there lay the body of aman．The lawyer turned it over on its back and saw the face ofEdward Hyde． He was dressed in clothes that were much toolarge for him， and in his hand he held a small bottle． 
　　The lawyer shook his head．'He's taken poison， Poole， hesaid．'I fear we've come too late to save Doctor Jekyll， andtoo late to punish his murderer too． Now we must find yourmaster's body．' 
　　They searched everywhere，but there was no sign of HenryJekyll， dead or alive． 
　　'Perhaps your master has escaped，'said Mr Utterson hopefully． He went to check the door from the laboratory into thenarrow side－street．It was locked，and covered with dust．Onthe floor nearby he found a broken key． 
　　'It's a long time since anyone opened this door！' said MrUtterson． 
　　'Yes，'said Poole，picking up the broken key．'So how didHyde get in？' 
　　'This is too difficult for me，Pooh，'said the lawyer．'Let'sgo back to the study．' 
　　They searched the study again．'Look，sir，'said Poole，Pointing to a small bable in the corner．There were bottles ofliquid and some white powders lying in saucers．'He was testing his chemicals here．' 
　　One of the doctor's books was lying on the floor． Its coverwas torn off．The lawyer picked it up．Doctor Jekyll loved hisbooks and always took great care of them． But he had writtenall over this one-the handwriting was unmistakable-beforetearing it and throwing it on the floor． 
　　Then the lawyer noticed the tall mirror on the wall betweenthe glass-fronted bookshelves． 
　　'How strange，'said Mr Utterson．'Why did Jekyll want amirror in his study？' 
　　Next they turned to the desk and found a large packet addressed to Mr Utterson． The handwriting was DoctorJekyll's．The lawyer opened the packet and three envelopesfell out on to the floor．The first contained a will． It was likeDoctor Jekyll's first win in every way- except one．The doctor had left all his money，not to Edward Hyde，but to GabrielJohn Utterson． 
　　The lawyer looked at the will，then at Poole，and finally atthe dead man on the floor． 
　　'I just don't understand，'he whispered．'Hyde has beenhere all this time-why didn't he destroy this will？' 
　　He picked up the next envelope．It contained a short note inthe doctor's handwriting．Mr Utterson saw the date．'Poole！'he cried，'this is today's date on the letter． Jekyllwas alive here today． He can't be dead-he has run away or ishiding somewhere．And if so， why？If he's alive，can we besure that Hyde killed himself？ We must be careful， Poole，orwe may involve your master in some terrible danger． 
　　'Why don't you read the note， sir？asked the servant． 
　　'Because I'm afraid，said the lawyer，in a worried voice．Slowly，he lifted the letter，and read： 
　　My dear Utterson， 
　　If you are reading this，it means that I have disappeared．Please go home and read Lanyon's letter．Afterwards，pleaseread the confessicn of 
　　Your unfortunate and unhappy friend， 
Henry Jekyll 
　　'This must be the confession， said Mr Utterson to himself，picking up the third and largest envelope．He put it in hispocket．'say nothing about these papers， Poole，'he said．' Ifyour master has died or disappeared，this paper may save hisreputation．It's now ten o'clock．I must go home and studythese papers in peace and quiet But I shall come back here before midnight，and then we shall send fof the police． 
　　They went out，locking the laboratory door behind them．With a heavy heart Mr Utterson walked home to read his letters． 
　  
7 最后一夜 
　  
　　转眼到了三月份，一天晚饭后，厄特森先生坐在炉火边，一睑惊讶之色，因为来了一位客人，是杰基尔博士的仆人普尔，老人家看上去面无人色，充满了恐惧。 
　　“厄特森先生，”他说，“出事了。” 
　　“来，坐到火边，慢慢说。” 
　　“博士把自己锁在书房里，不出来了，先生。” 
　　“这不是常事吗？”律师说，“你和我一样清楚你的主人的习惯，他不是经常把自己锁起来吗？” 
　　“是，可是这次不一样，太可怕了，先生，有一个星期了，我再也受不了啦。” 
　　他停下来，低头盯着地板。 
　　“来吧，普尔，告诉我是怎么一回事。”律师轻轻地说道。 
　　“主人遇到了可怕的事，我说不清楚，可是……求求您先生，能跟我一起去亲自瞧瞧吗？” 
　　厄特森先生立刻拿来自己的大衣，戴上帽子。 
　　“谢谢，先生，”普尔满心感激地嘟哝着。 
　　他们动身去杰基尔博士的家。那是个狂风呼啸、风雨交加的晚上，厄特森先生感到街上不同寻常地空旷和孤独。到了广场附近，风沙飞扬，细细的小树猛烈地摇摆着，乱七八糟、奇形怪状的黑云飘过苍白、昏暗的月亮。 
　　“先生，”普尔说，“我们到了，但愿没出乱子。”他小心翼翼地敲门，门开了一道缝，里面传出来一个声音：“是你吗，普尔？” 
　　“没错，开门吧。” 
　　他们走进大厅，里面灯火通明，火烧得很旺，屋里挤满了人——所有的仆人都在，好像一群吓坏了的孩子。 
　　“这究竟是怎么回事？”律师问，“你们都在这儿干什么？主人是会不高兴的。” 
　　“他们都害怕，”普尔轻声说。没人说话，一个小女仆抑制不住，哭出声来。 
　　“别嚎了！”普尔提高嗓门喊了一声，努力把自己的恐惧压下去。“去，拿枝蜡烛来，我们马上把这事弄个水落石出。厄特森先生，请跟在我后面。”他在前面引路，穿过后花园朝实验室走去。 
　　“先生，请您把脚步放轻点，我想让您听听，但您可别让他听见了。先生，要是他让您进去，千万别进去！” 
　　厄特森先生吓得心中一紧，但他马上鼓起勇气，跟着仆人进了实验室，来到楼梯下。 
　　“在这儿等着，先生，仔细听着，”普尔低声说。而他自己抑制住恐惧，上了楼梯，敲了敲书房的门。 
　　“先生，厄特森先生想见您，”他叫道。 
　　“告诉他，我不能见任何人。”书房里传出一个声音。 
　　“谢谢您，先生，”普尔说完，又领着厄特森先生穿过花园回到屋里。“先生，”他问，“那是我主人的声音吗？” 
　　“好像有点变了……”律师说，脸色花白。 
　　“变了？您说得没错，”普尔说，“我服侍了杰基尔博士二十年，那根本不是主人的声音，主人已经给人害死了，八天前我最后一次听见他的声音。'哦！亲爱的主啊！'他喊了一声，然后就再没有声音了。您刚才听到的是凶手的声音！” 
　　“这事太不寻常了，好普尔，”厄特森先生说，尽量使自己保持冷静。“如果杰基尔博士给人害了，为什么凶手还在这儿？是什么原因让他留在这里呢？” 
　　“好吧，先生，也许您不信我的话，但我明白我听见了什么。快一个星期了，那个人，也许是什么怪物，在书房里没日没夜地哭，要一种特别的药粉。主人每次一忙，就是这样，把命令写在纸条上，扔在楼梯上，这倒是他一贯的作风。这次也是，我们别的什么也不知道，只有吩咐的纸条和关紧的门。我去过城里所有的药店，找他要的东西，可没一样符合他的要求。他说那些玩意不纯，我又得把东西退回去，再上别的店。我不知道这些药是干什么的，可书房里的那个人要得那么急。” 
　　“你有他写的这种纸条吗？”厄特森先生问道。 
　　普尔把手伸进口袋，掏出一张纸。律师凑近仔细看了看，上面写道：“现将刚购的那批货退还，质地不纯，不合用途。18××年，您曾给亨利·杰基尔博士配过一批药剂，恭请贵号尽量搜寻，若有任何相同药剂存货请立即送来。至关重要，切记，切记。” 
　　“真是个奇怪的条子！”厄特森先生说。 
　　“药剂师也这么认为，先生，”普尔说着，“我给他这个条子，他嚷嚷着说：'我所有的药品都是纯的，就这么告诉你们主人！'他说着就冲我把纸条扔了回来。” 
　　“你能肯定这是主人的笔迹吗？”厄特森先生问。 
　　“当然了，先生，”普尔说，“可这又有什么关系呢？我看见了凶手！” 
　　“看见他了？”厄特森先生不禁重复了一遍。 
　　“就是看见了嘛！是这样的，有一次我从花园突然去了实验室，我以为他离开书房找什么东西去了，书房的门开着，他就在实验室最里面，在旧箱子里翻什么东西。我进去时他抬头看了我一眼，大叫一声，转身就奔到书房里去了。我只看到他一眼，可血都要冻住了似的。先生，您说要是主人的话，他干吗脸上戴着面罩？要是主人的话，干吗像个四处被迫的野兽，从我跟前逃走？我给他当了20年的仆人，可他……”普尔将脸埋在手里，难过得说不下去了。 
　　“的确是桩怪事。”厄特森先生说，“我想我有点明白了。普尔，你的主人看来是病了，长相也变了，嗓音也变了，这样就能解释为什么他戴面罩了，因为他不愿见朋友；当然了，他拼命地找药，是因为他认为吃了药就会好了。上帝啊！希望他一切都好！哦！可怜的杰基尔！这是我的解释，想起来怪怕人的，但还算正常，也还算自然，不必那么担心。” 
　　“可是，先生，”仆人说，“那个……东西，不是主人。主人是个大高个，又体面又英俊，那个人矮得多……先生，我和主人在一起二十年了，还会不记得主人长得什么样？除非我不知道自己长什么样了！不，先生，面罩下的那个东西决不会是杰基尔博士的，而且我认定，就是——它——杀了主人！” 
　　“普尔，”律师说，一你要是这么说，我一定要弄个水落石出了。咱们得把门撞开。” 
　　“这才对啊！厄特森先生！”老仆人大声说道。 
　　“很好。那么你愿意帮助我吗？万一弄错了，我不会让你受责备的。” 
　　“实验室里有把斧子，”普尔建议说。 
　　“普尔，你知道，”厄特森先生说，“这事对咱们俩都够危险的。咱们有话直说，你见到的那个戴面罩的人，你敢肯定不是你的主人。” 
　　“是的，先生。” 
　　“你确实能认出他吗？” 
　　“嗯，先生，时间太短，他跑得很快，不敢真的确定。但是——直说吧，我想那是海德先生。个子和他一样矮，动作一样轻快、敏捷，再有，除了他，谁还能从街上走实验室的门进来呢？您别忘了，先生，卡鲁凶杀案发生时，钥匙还在海德先生手里呢！这还不算。对了，先生，您见过这个海德先生吗？” 
　　“见过，”律师说，“我跟他说过一次话。” 
　　“那您也该清楚，海德先生有点奇怪，他身上有种邪恶的东西。” 
　　“我同意你说的，”厄特森先生说，“我和你感觉差不多。” 
　　“是这样嘛！面罩下的那个东西从箱子后面跳出来，跑上楼梯，当时我就是那种感觉，觉得面罩下的那个人一定是海德先生！” 
　　“我知道了，普尔，我相信你，”律师一字一顿地说道，“我相信可怜的亨利·杰基尔已经给人害死了，我也确信凶手还在书房里藏着。现在，普尔，咱们就去了结这事。” 
　　他们一起走进后花园，乌云遮住了月亮，周围一片幽暗，两人静悄悄地沿着实验室的墙走过去，停住脚，听了一会儿，远处传来伦敦城天天晚上的吵吵闹闹的声音，但上面的书房里只有徘徊的脚步声，打破了周围的寂静。 
　　“他整天就这么走，先生。”普尔低声说，“哎，大半夜就这么走来走去的，只有新药品送来了，脚步声才会停下来。您听，先生，那是主人的脚步声吗？” 
　　这脚步声又轻，又短，确实和亨利·杰基尔又长、又重的步子很不一样。 
　　“还有什么其它情况吗，普尔？”律师沉重地问道。 
　　“有一次，”普尔说，“我听见他在哭。” 
　　“哭？”厄特森一脸恐怖地重复道。 
　　“哭得像个迷路的孩子，”老仆人说，“我听了直心碎，也特别想哭。” 
　　“行了，”律师说，“咱们还有事要干。” 
　　他们进了实验室，沿着楼梯向书房走去。“杰基尔，”律师大声喊起来，“我要见你！”他停了一会儿，没人回答。“你要是不让我进去，我可就破门而入了！” 
　　“厄特森，”里面传出一个声音，“求求你，让我自己呆着吧！” 
　　“这不是杰基尔的声音！”厄特森先生大喊一声，“这是海德！普尔，砸门！” 
　　手起斧落，房门震了震，屋里传来恐惧的尖叫声，就像野兽被夹住了腿。门上又落了一斧，但上好的木头很结实，锁也打制得很坚固，最后好不容易，门才落在屋里的地毯上。 
　　两人向屋里瞪眼望去，壁炉里的火很旺，又暖和又舒服，一张大桌子上散着几张纸，这是一间又朴素又温馨的屋子。可是屋中间的地板上卧着一具尸体，律师把他扳过来，是爱德华·海德的脸。他穿着比他个儿大得多的衣服，手里捏着一个小瓶子。 
　　律师摇摇头。“他吃了毒药，普尔。恐怕咱们还是来晚了，没法救杰基尔医生，也不可能惩罚凶手了。现在咱们得找到主人的尸体。” 
　　他们找遍了，可就是没有杰基尔的影子，不管是死的，还是活的。 
　　“也许他早逃走了！”厄特森先生充满希望地说。他转身去查看从实验室通往小街的那扇门。门上了锁，到处是灰尘，旁边地上，他找到了一把折断的钥匙。 
　　“好久没人开过这扇门了！”厄特森先生说。 
　　“是啊，”普尔一边答道，一边捡起折断的钥匙。“那么，海德是怎么进来的呢？” 
　　“这真叫我摸不着头脑了，普尔，”律师说，“咱们再回书房看看。” 
　　他们又在书房找了一遍。“先生，你看，”普尔指着屋角的小桌子，上面摆着盛着各种各样液体的小瓶子，碟子里有些白色粉末。“他在这儿实验这些药品。” 
　　地上扔着医生的一本书，封皮已破烂不堪。律师把书捡起来。杰基尔博士一直很爱看书，也爱惜书，可这本书在没有被撕坏和扔到地上之前，上面写满了字，笔迹也没错。 
　　随后律师又注意到两个玻璃书柜之间的墙上，镶着一面又高又大的镜子。 
　　“真奇怪，”厄特森先生说，“杰基尔在书房里放这东西有什么用？” 
　　他们又转身去看书桌，发现有一个大邮包，上面写着“厄特森先生收”，笔迹是杰基尔博士的。律师打开邮包，里面掉出三封信。第一封是遗嘱，和博士的第一份遗嘱一模一样，只有一条除外，博士把所有积蓄不是给了爱德华·海德，而是给了加布里埃尔·约翰·厄特森。 
　　律师看了看遗嘱，又看了看普尔，最后把目光投向地板上的尸体。 
　　“我还是不明白，”他喃喃说道，“海德一直呆在这儿——可他怎么没有把这份遗嘱毁掉呢？” 
　　他又拿起另一个信封，是博士手写的短笺，厄特森先生看了看日期。
“普尔！”他叫道，“是今天的日期，杰基尔今天还活着，他肯定没有死——一定是逃跑了，要不就是躲起来了。真是那样的话，那又为什么呢？如果他还活着，我们能肯定海德是自杀的吗？普尔，咱们得小心行事，否则可能会把你的主人拖到什么惨祸里去的！” 
　　“您为什么不念下去，先生？”仆人问。 
　　“我害怕，”律师心事重重地说，然后他慢慢地拾起了信，念道： 
　　“我亲爱的厄特森： 
　　当您看到这张纸条的时候，这意味着我已经失踪了。请您回去看看兰宁医生的信。之后，请您再读我的忏悔书。 
　　您的不幸而痛苦的朋友 
　　亨利·杰基尔” 
　　厄特森先生拾起第三封信，那是个最大的信封，厄特森自言自语说：“这一定是忏悔书了。”他把信放进口袋，说：“普尔，别跟别人说起信的事，要是主人死了或者失踪了，这些东西也许能挽救他的名誉。10点了，我要回家去安安静静地读信，午夜之前我一定赶回来，那时我们再派人去报警。” 
　　他们一同出来，锁上了实验室的门。厄特森先生心情沉重地回家去看这些信。 
　　　    


 