The Carew Murder Case

by Robert Louis Stevenson

　　NEARLY a year later, in the month of October, 18 -- , London wasstartled by a crime of singular ferocity and rendered all the morenotable by the high position of the victim. The details were few andstartling. A maid servant living alone in a house not far from theriver, had gone up-stairs to bed about eleven. Although a fog rolledover the city in the small hours, the early part of the night wascloudless, and the lane, which the maid's window overlooked, wasbrilliantly lit by the full moon. It seems she was romanticallygiven, for she sat down upon her box, which stood immediately underthe window, and fell into a dream of musing. Never (she used to say,with streaming tears, when she narrated that experience), never hadshe felt more at peace with all men or thought more kindly of theworld. And as she so sat she became aware of an aged and beautifulgentleman with white hair, drawing near along the lane; andadvancing to meet him, another and very small gentleman, to whom atfirst she paid less attention. When they had come within speech (which wasjust under the maid's eyes) the older man bowed and accosted theother with a very pretty manner of politeness. It did not seem asif the subject of his address were of great importance; indeed,from his pointing, it sometimes appeared as if he were onlyinquiring his way; but the moon shone on his face as he spoke, andthe girl was pleased to watch it, it seemed to breathe such aninnocent and old-world kindness of disposition, yet with somethinghigh too, as of a well-founded self-content. Presently her eyewandered to the other, and she was surprised to recognise in him acertain Mr. Hyde, who had once visited her master and for whom shehad conceived a dislike. He had in his hand a heavy cane, with whichhe was trifling; but he answered never a word, and seemed to listenwith an ill-contained impatience. And then all of a sudden he brokeout in a great flame of anger, stamping with his foot, brandishingthe 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 muchsurprised and a trifle hurt; and at that Mr. Hyde broke out of allbounds and clubbed him to the earth. And next moment, with ape-likefury, he was trampling his victim under foot and hailing down astorm of blows, under which the bones were audibly shattered and thebody jumped upon the roadway. At the horror of these sights andsounds, the maid fainted.It was two o'clock when she came to herself and called for thepolice. The murderer was gone long ago; but there lay his victim inthe middle of the lane, incredibly mangled. The stick with which thedeed had been done, although it was of some rare and very tough andheavy wood, had broken in the middle under the stress of thisinsensate cruelty; and one splintered half had rolled in theneighbouring gutter -- the other, without doubt, had been carriedaway by the murderer. A purse and a gold watch were found upon thevictim: but no cards or papers, except a sealed and stampedenvelope, which he had been probably carrying to the post, and whichbore the name and address of Mr. Utterson.This was brought to the lawyer the next morning, before he was outof bed; and he had no sooner seen it, and been told thecircumstances, than he shot out a solemn lip. "I shall say nothingtill I have seen the body," said he; "this may be very serious. Havethe kindness to wait while I dress." And with the same gravecountenance he hurried through his breakfast and drove to the policestation, whither the body had been carried. As soon as he came intothe cell, he nodded."Yes," said he, "I recognise him. I am sorry to say that this isSir Danvers Carew.""Good God, sir," exclaimed the officer, "is it possible?" And thenext moment his eye lighted up with professional ambition. "This will make a deal ofnoise," he said. "And perhaps you can help us to the man." And hebriefly narrated what the maid had seen, and showed the brokenstick.Mr. Utterson had already quailed at the name of Hyde; but when thestick was laid before him, he could doubt no longer; broken andbattered as it was, he recognised it for one that he had himselfpresented 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 themaid calls him," said the officer.Mr. Utterson reflected; and then, raising his head, "If you willcome with me in my cab," he said, "I think I can take you to hishouse."It was by this time about nine in the morning, and the first fog ofthe season. A great chocolate-coloured pall lowered over heaven, butthe wind was continually charging and routing these embattledvapours; so that as the cab crawled from street to street, Mr.Utterson beheld a marvellous number of degrees and hues of twilight;for here it would be dark like the back-end of evening; and therewould be a glow of a rich, lurid brown, like the light of somestrange conflagration; and here, for a moment, the fog would bequite broken up, and a haggard shaft of daylight would glance in between the swirling wreaths. Thedismal quarter of Soho seen under these changing glimpses, with itsmuddy ways, and slatternly passengers, and its lamps, which hadnever been extinguished or had been kindled afresh to combat thismournful re-invasion of darkness, seemed, in the lawyer's eyes, likea district of some city in a nightmare. The thoughts of his mind,besides, were of the gloomiest dye; and when he glanced at thecompanion of his drive, he was conscious of some touch of thatterror of the law and the law's officers, which may at times assailthe most honest.As the cab drew up before the address indicated, the fog lifted alittle and showed him a dingy street, a gin palace, a low Frencheating-house, a shop for the retail of penny numbers and twopennysalads, many ragged children huddled in the doorways, and manywomen of different nationalities passing out, key in hand, to have amorning glass; and the next moment the fog settled down again uponthat part, as brown as umber, and cut him off from his blackguardlysurroundings. This was the home of Henry Jekyll's favourite; of aman who was heir to a quarter of a million sterling.An ivory-faced and silvery-haired old woman opened the door. Shehad an evil face, smoothed by hypocrisy; but her manners wereexcellent. Yes, she said, this was Mr. Hyde's, but he was not athome; he had been in that night very late, but had gone awayagain in less than an hour; there was nothingstrange in that; his habits were very irregular, and he was oftenabsent; for instance, it was nearly two months since she had seenhim till yesterday."Very well, then, we wish to see his rooms," said the lawyer; andwhen the woman began to declare it was impossible, "I had bettertell you who this person is," he added. "This is Inspector Newcomenof Scotland Yard."A flash of odious joy appeared upon the woman's face. "Ah!" saidshe, "he is in trouble! What has he done?"Mr. Utterson and the inspector exchanged glances. "He don't seem avery popular character," observed the latter. "And now, my goodwoman, just let me and this gentleman have a look about us."In the whole extent of the house, which but for the old womanremained otherwise empty, Mr. Hyde had only used a couple of rooms;but these were furnished with luxury and good taste. A closet wasfilled with wine; the plate was of silver, the napery elegant; agood picture hung upon the walls, a gift (as Utterson supposed) fromHenry Jekyll, who was much of a connoisseur; and the carpets were ofmany plies and agreeable in colour. At this moment, however, therooms bore every mark of having been recently and hurriedlyransacked; clothes lay about the floor, with their pockets insideout; lock-fast drawers stood open; and on the hearth there lay a pile ofgrey ashes, as though many papers had been burned. From theseembers the inspector disinterred the butt-end of a greencheque-book, which had resisted the action of the fire; the otherhalf of the stick was found behind the door. and as this clinchedhis suspicions, the officer declared himself delighted. A visit tothe bank, where several thousand pounds were found to be lying tothe murderer's credit, completed his gratification."You may depend upon it, sir," he told Mr. Utterson: "I have him inmy hand. He must have lost his head, or he never would have left thestick or, above all, burned the cheque-book. Why, money's life tothe man. We have nothing to do but wait for him at the bank, and getout the handbills."This last, however, was not so easy of accomplishment; for Mr. Hydehad numbered few familiars -- even the master of the servant-maidhad only seen him twice; his family could nowhere be traced; he hadnever been photographed; and the few who could describe him differedwidely, as common observers will. Only on one point, were theyagreed; and that was the haunting sense of unexpressed deformitywith which the fugitive impressed his beholders.