That is not my master
Utterson and Poole find Hyde trying to kill himself
(Note: Yes, I now know that Hyde killed himself with poison, but I didn't know that when I wrote this-plus knives are cool!)
"That's not my master, Utterson," Poole said. "Do you think I wouldn't have recognized him after 20 years of working with him? Do you think I don't know where his head reaches through that door, after seeing him every morning of my life? Jekyll is tall and strong, that thing was a dwarf! No, that thing was never Jekyll. I’ll tell you again, it was definitely a crime."
"Well, if you think so, it's my duty to get to the bottom of things. Even if I have to respect your master's will, even if his letter proves he's still alive, it's my duty to break down that door."
"Way to go!" exclaimed the butler. "But who's going to break it down?"
"Well, you and I," he replied firmly.
Then they went to the anatomical room, where there was an axe and a poker.
"Poole, you know we're facing danger, don't you?" Utterson asked.
"Yes, I know, sir."
"Then let's be frank. We've thought more than we've said. Did you recognize that masked figure?"
"You see, he was hunched over and moving so fast, but if you ask me, I think it's Mr. Hyde. They have the same body, and the same style of movement. And besides, when he murdered Sir Danvers, he still had the keys to the laboratory," Poole recounted, then asked. "Have you ever seen Mr. Hyde?"
"Yes, I have."
"Then you must have realized that there was something horribly... I don't know how to put it... something that made your blood run cold."
"Yes, I had that feeling," Utterson admitted.
"The masked thing searched the crates and then ran like a monkey. I swear to the Bible, that was Hyde."
"You're right. That bond born of evil wasn't going to lead to anything but more evil... God knows why Hyde is still in that room."
Then they called Bradshaw, a waiter. Utterson told him they were going to break down the door of the room, and if it went wrong, he would answer any questions, but if on the other side, if there was a criminal there and he tried to escape, he and someone else would be there on guard to prevent him from escaping.
Then they went to the room. It was already nighttime, everything was dark. Arriving at the laboratory, all was silent, except for the footsteps of whoever was there.
"He walks like that all day, sir," Poole recounted. "Tell me, are those Dr. Jekyll's footsteps?"
Utterson listened attentively, concluding that they weren't. They were too light to be his.
Then Poole told him about the time he heard him cry. He was crying miserably, like a lost soul. Then almost ten minutes passed, and Poole grabbed the axe, and with a candle for light, they walked into the room.
"Jekyll! I demand to see you!" exclaimed Utterson. "We already are suspecting things about you, and I need to see you! I'll do it anyway, by fair means or foul! Open up!"
"Utterson, please have mercy on me!" replied a strangely deep and hoarse voice on the other end.
"That's not Jekyll!" shouted the lawyer. "Down with the door!"
Then the axe was hurled at the door, again and again, until finally, the door fell.
The sight they met was that of Hyde with a knife, about to go and drive it at his heart. Utterson ran quickly, throwing himself on top of him and pulling the knife away.
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" he yelled. "ARE YOU CRAZY?!"
Hyde wasn't responding; he was trying to knock the knife out of Hyde's hand. Utterson pushed it further away, and then the other one punched him in the face.
"UGH! YOU BASTARD!" Utterson exclaimed, but quickly recovered to kick the knife away from Hyde, who was growling. "POOLE! GET A ROPE!"
Poole quickly ran. Meanwhile, Utterson held Hyde back, holding his hands so he couldn't grab anything and resisting his kicks.
"WHAT WERE YOU GOING TO DO WITH THAT KNIFE, HYDE?!" he questioned.
"WHY DO YOU CARE!?" the other replied, with a tone of desperation in his voice.
Poole returned, rope in his hands, and then together, with great effort against Hyde's blows, they tied him up.
Hyde kept kicking and trying to break the ropes, but they were tied so tightly that he couldn't escape.
"Well, we've got him tied now. He can't escape now...or kill himself." Utterson shuddered at the last part.
"Yes..." Poole looked at Hyde, examining him. The man was muttering things, but he couldn't hear whatever was coming out of his mouth. Whatever it was, he knew it was some kind of curse directed at him and Utterson. Suddenly, Poole asked, "What now?"
The room fell silent for a few minutes.
"...I don't know...I didn't think that far ahead...in fact, I didn't even think this would happen in the first place."
"That makes sense, forgive me."
"No!" "Don't apologize, Poole!" Utterson exclaimed. "It's not your fault this...being...committed such a crime..."
They chatted in front of the destroyed door, while Hyde just stared at them, his eyes filled with fury, but he had already stopped struggling against the rope. Then, Utterson approached the short man, crouching down to be at his level.
"Hyde, answer me. Where is Jekyll? What did you do with him?”
"Nothing," he replied. He tried to sound cool, but his trembling voice showed what he was feeling at that moment. "I didn't do anything with Jekyll."
"A check for one hundred pounds isn't going to settle this case, Hyde. (Especially since Jekyll isn't here to sign it for you,)" Utterson threatened. "Anything you say can be used against you."
"I'm not going to answer anything." Hyde fell silent from then on.
"Tell me, now, what did you do with Jekyll." Utterson spoke in a cold, serious, and demanding voice. But Hyde didn't even murmur, his gaze defiant.
"He won't be talking anytime soon, sir..." Poole murmured.
"I noticed." He sighed.
"Stay here, Poole," Utterson ordered. "Don't let him get away."
"Yes, sir," Poole nodded.
Then Utterson left the room, searching for Jekyll's body. He passed through the anatomical room, then entered the basement, and then the storage rooms, which he didn't examine much because they were all dusty, indicating that no one had used them for a long time.
He went back to the hallway, where he noticed a closed door leading to the street. Below, on the floor, there was a rusty key, trampled, and broken.
He returned to the room, where Poole was staring at Hyde, who was no longer saying anything, just staring at the floor, angry.
Utterson looked at a bench where a chemical experiment was taking place. It seemed unfinished because the salt had already been dosed into different tubes, and they remained there.
"That's the substance I was bringing him." Poole interrupted his examination.
And at that moment, a kettle overflowed with boiling water. Everything was ready for tea on the small table near the armchair; the cup even had sugar in it. On the same table, there was an open book.
Hyde looked at it, but said nothing. After all, if he said anything, it could be used against him.
Utterson glanced through the book, which was a devotional book Jekyll had told him he liked; it contained quite a bit of blasphemy.
He continued his inspection and came to a mirror, tall and tilted. It reflected only the top part.
"Why would Jekyll want a mirror here?" he wondered. But he ignored it and went on to examine the desk, where he found a note that said "To Mr. Utterson." The lawyer opened it and saw a will, with another envelope. The will was the same, except that instead of Edward Hyde being the beneficiary, it was him. Gabriel John Utterson.
"I don't understand..." He looked at Hyde. "You could have destroyed this, you don't like me. You've been here, free to do whatever you wanted, and you didn't destroy it?"
Hyde rolled his eyes, but said nothing.
Then he looked at the other sheet of paper and looked at the date on the note.
"6/8/1890"
"Aha! He was alive, and he was here today!” Utterson exclaimed. "You couldn't kill him, and he ran away. But... where did he run to? Why? How?"
Hyde just stared at Utterson, not a word coming out of his mouth.
Utterson stared back, angry with him. More than angry. But there are no words to describe what Utterson felt toward Hyde at that very moment.
Dear Utterson,
By the time you read these lines, I will be gone. I can't predict exactly when, but my instinct, the very circumstances of the indescribable situation in which I find myself, tell me that the end is certain and cannot be long in coming. First of all, read your letter that Lanyon told me he had written to you. And if you still want to know more, read the confession of your unworthy and unfortunate friend, Henry Jekyll.
"Lanyon's letter is at my house..." Utterson thought. "Is there nothing else?"
Poole handed him an envelope sealed in several places:
"This, sir." The lawyer put it in his bag.
"I won't say anything about this note. If your master has escaped, or is dead, we can at least save his reputation." Utterson suddenly heard a murmur, with a small laugh coming from Hyde.
"What did you say?" he asked. Hyde just looked at him with his defiant gaze and fell silent again. Utterson sighed.
"I can't just leave him here...he might take advantage and run away like that."
"You have me, sir," Poole said. "And Bradshaw."
"You're right...but..."
"We'll take care of him." Poole smiled at him.
"...If you say so..."