PART FOUR, THE CAREW MURDER CASE
Nearly a year later, in the month of October, 18-- London was
startled
by a crime of singular ferocity and rendered all the more notable
by the
high position of the victim. The details were few and startling. A
maid servant living alone in a house not far from the river, had
gone
upstairs to bed about eleven. Although a fog rolled over the city
in the
small hours, the early part of the night was cloudless, and the
lane,
which the maid's window overlooked, was brilliantly lit by the
full
moon. It seems she was romantically given, for she sat down upon
her
box, which stood immediately under the window, and fell into a
dream of
musing. Never (she used to say, with streaming tears, when she
narrated
that experience), never had she felt more at peace with all men or
thought more kindly of the world. And as she so sat she became
aware
of an aged beautiful gentleman with white hair, drawing near along
the
lane; and advancing to meet him, another and very small gentleman,
to
whom at first she paid less attention. When they had come within
speech
(which was just under the maid's eyes) the older man bowed and
accosted
the other with a very pretty manner of politeness. It did not seem
as
if the subject of his address were of great importance; indeed,
from his
pointing, it some times appeared as if he were only inquiring his
way;
but the moon shone on his face as he spoke, and the girl was
pleased to
watch it, it seemed to breathe such an innocent and old-world
kindness
of disposition, yet with something high too, as of a well-founded
self-content. Presently her eye wandered to the other, and she was
surprised to recognise in him a certain Mr. Hyde, who had once
visited
her master and for whom she had conceived a dislike. He had in his
hand
a heavy cane, with which he was trifling; but he answered never a
word,
and seemed to listen with an ill-contained impatience. And then
all of
a sudden he broke out in a great flame of anger, stamping with his
foot,
brandishing the cane, and carrying on (as the maid described it) like
a madman. The old gentleman took a step back, with the air of one
very
much surprised and a trifle hurt; and at that Mr. Hyde broke out
of
all bounds and clubbed him to the earth. And next moment, with
ape-like
fury, he was trampling his victim under foot and hailing down a
storm of
blows, under which the bones were audibly shattered and the body
jumped
upon the roadway. At the horror of these sights and sounds, the
maid
fainted.
It was two o'clock when she came to herself and called for the
police.
The murderer was gone long ago; but there lay his victim in the
middle
of the lane, incredibly mangled. The stick with which the deed had
been
done, although it was of some rare and very tough and heavy wood,
had
broken in the middle under the stress of this insensate cruelty;
and
one splintered half had rolled in the neighbouring gutter--the
other,
without doubt, had been carried away by the murderer. A purse and
gold
watch were found upon the victim: but no cards or papers, except a
sealed and stamped envelope, which he had been probably carrying
to the
post, and which bore the name and address of Mr. Utterson.
This was brought to the lawyer the next morning, before he was out
of
bed; and he had no sooner seen it and been told the circumstances,
than
he shot out a solemn lip. "I shall say nothing till I have
seen the
body," said he; "this may be very serious. Have the
kindness to wait
while I dress." And with the same grave countenance he
hurried through
his breakfast and drove to the police station, whither the body
had been
carried. As soon as he came into the cell, he nodded.
"Yes," said he, "I recognise him. I am sorry to say
that this is Sir
Danvers Carew."
"Good God, sir," exclaimed the officer, "is it
possible?" And the next
moment his eye lighted up with professional ambition. "This
will make a
deal of noise," he said. "And perhaps you can help us to
the man." And
he briefly narrated what the maid had seen, and showed the broken
stick.
Mr. Utterson had already quailed at the name of Hyde; but when the
stick
was laid before him, he could doubt no longer; broken and battered
as it
was, he recognized it for one that he had himself presented many
years
before to Henry Jekyll.
"Is this Mr. Hyde a person of small stature?" he
inquired.
"Particularly small and particularly wicked-looking, is what
the maid
calls him," said the officer.
Mr. Utterson reflected; and then, raising his head, "If you
will come
with me in my cab," he said, "I think I can take you to
his house."
It was by this time about nine in the morning, and the first fog
of the
season. A great chocolate-coloured pall lowered over heaven, but
the
wind was continually charging and routing these embattled vapours;
so
that as the cab crawled from street to street, Mr. Utterson beheld
a
marvelous number of degrees and hues of twilight; for here it
would be
dark like the back-end of evening; and there would be a glow of a
rich,
lurid brown, like the light of some strange conflagration; and
here,
for a moment, the fog would be quite broken up, and a haggard
shaft
of daylight would glance in between the swirling wreaths. The
dismal
quarter of Soho seen under these changing glimpses, with its muddy
ways, and slatternly passengers, and its lamps, which had never
been extinguished or had been kindled afresh to combat this
mournful
reinvasion of darkness, seemed, in the lawyer's eyes, like a
district of
some city in a nightmare. The thoughts of his mind, besides, were
of the
gloomiest dye; and when he glanced at the companion of his drive,
he
was conscious of some touch of that terror of the law and the
law's
officers, which may at times assail the most honest.
As the cab drew up before the address indicated, the fog lifted a
little
and showed him a dingy street, a gin palace, a low French eating house,
a shop for the retail of penny numbers and twopenny salads, many
ragged
children huddled in the doorways, and many women of many different
nationalities passing out, key in hand, to have a morning glass;
and
the next moment the fog settled down again upon that part, as
brown as
umber, and cut him off from his blackguardly surroundings. This
was the
home of Henry Jekyll's favourite; of a man who was heir to a
quarter of
a million sterling.
An ivory-faced and silvery-haired old woman opened the door. She
had an
evil face, smoothed by hypocrisy: but her manners were excellent.
Yes,
she said, this was Mr. Hyde's, but he was not at home; he had been
in
that night very late, but he had gone away again in less than an
hour;
there was nothing strange in that; his habits were very irregular,
and
he was often absent; for instance, it was nearly two months since
she
had seen him till yesterday.
"Very well, then, we wish to see his rooms," said the
lawyer; and when
the woman began to declare it was impossible, "I had better
tell you
who this person is," he added. "This is Inspector
Newcomen of Scotland
Yard."
A flash of odious joy appeared upon the woman's face.
"Ah!" said she,
"he is in trouble! What has he done?"
Mr. Utterson and the inspector exchanged glances. "He don't
seem a very
popular character," observed the latter. "And now, my
good woman, just
let me and this gentleman have a look about us."
In the whole extent of the house, which but for the old woman
remained
otherwise empty, Mr. Hyde had only used a couple of rooms; but
these
were furnished with luxury and good taste. A closet was filled
with
wine; the plate was of silver, the napery elegant; a good picture
hung
upon the walls, a gift (as Utterson supposed) from Henry Jekyll,
who was
much of a connoisseur; and the carpets were of many plies and
agreeable
in colour. At this moment, however, the rooms bore every mark of
having
been recently and hurriedly ransacked; clothes lay about the
floor,
with their pockets inside out; lock-fast drawers stood open; and
on the
hearth there lay a pile of grey ashes, as though many papers had
been
burned. From these embers the inspector disinterred the butt end
of a
green cheque book, which had resisted the action of the fire; the
other
half of the stick was found behind the door; and as this clinched
his
suspicions, the officer declared himself delighted. A visit to the
bank,
where several thousand pounds were found to be lying to the
murderer's
credit, completed his gratification.
"You may depend upon it, sir," he told Mr. Utterson:
"I have him in my
hand. He must have lost his head, or he never would have left the
stick
or, above all, burned the cheque book. Why, money's life to the
man.
We have nothing to do but wait for him at the bank, and get out
the
handbills."
This last, however, was not so easy of accomplishment; for Mr.
Hyde had
numbered few familiars--even the master of the servant maid had
only
seen him twice; his family could nowhere be traced; he had never
been
photographed; and the few who could describe him differed widely,
as
common observers will. Only on one point were they agreed; and
that
was the haunting sense of unexpressed deformity with which the
fugitive
impressed his beholders.
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