The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 05Stevenson, Robert Louis
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The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 05
Stevenson, Robert Louis
English literature -- 19th century; Fiction
Upon the reading of this letter I made sure my colleague was insane; but
till that was proved beyond the possibility of doubt, I felt bound to do
as he requested. The less I understood of this farrago, the less I was
in a position to judge of its importance; and an appeal so worded could
not be set aside without a grave responsibility. I rose accordingly from
table, got into a hansom, and drove straight to Jekyll's house. The
butler was awaiting my arrival; he had received by the same post as mine
a registered letter of instruction, and had sent at once for a locksmith
and a carpenter. The tradesmen came while we were yet speaking; and we
moved in a body to old Dr. Denman's surgical theatre, from which (as you
are doubtless aware) Jekyll's private cabinet is most conveniently
entered. The door was very strong, the lock excellent; the carpenter
avowed he would have great trouble and have to do much damage, if force
were to be used; and the locksmith was near despair. But this last was a
handy fellow, and after two hours' work the door stood open. The press
marked E was unlocked; and I took out the drawer, had it filled up with
straw and tied in a sheet, and returned with it to Cavendish Square.
Here I proceeded to examine its contents. The powders were neatly enough
made up, but not with the nicety of the dispensing chemist; so that it
was plain they were of Jekyll's private manufacture; and when I opened
one of the wrappers, I found what seemed to me a simple, crystalline
salt of a white colour. The phial, to which I next turned my attention,
might have been about half-full of a blood-red liquor, which was highly
pungent to the sense of smell and seemed to me to contain phosphorus and
some volatile ether. At the other ingredients I could make no guess. The
book was an ordinary version-book, and contained little but a series of
dates. These covered a period of many years, but I observed that the
entries ceased nearly a year ago, and quite abruptly. Here and there a
brief remark was appended to a date, usually no more than a single word:
"double" occurring perhaps six times in a total of several hundred
entries; and once very early in the list, and followed by several marks
of exclamation, "total failure!!!" All this, though it whetted my
curiosity, told me little that was definite. Here was a phial of some
tincture, a paper of some salt, and a record of a series of experiments
that had led (like too many of Jekyll's investigations) to no end of
practical usefulness. How could the presence of these articles in my
house affect either the honour, the sanity, or the life of my flighty
colleague? If his messenger could go to one place, why could he not go
to another? And even granting some impediment, why was this gentleman to
be received by me in secret? The more I reflected, the more convinced I
grew that I was dealing with a case of cerebral disease; and though I
dismissed my servants to bed, I loaded an old revolver that I might be
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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