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1Thereupon, I arranged my clothes as best I could, and summoning a passing hansom, drove to an hotel in Portland Street,
2the name of which I chanced to remember. At my appearance (which was indeed comical enough, however tragic a fate these
3garments covered) the driver could not conceal his mirth. I gnashed my teeth upon him with a gust of devilish fury; and
4the smile withered from his face--happily for him--yet more happily for myself, for in another instant I had certainly
5dragged him from his perch. At the inn, as I entered, I looked about me with so black a countenance as made the
6attendants tremble; not a look did they exchange in my presence; but obsequiously took my orders, led me to a private
7room, and brought me wherewithal to write. Hyde in danger of his life was a creature new to me; shaken with inordinate
8anger, strung to the pitch of murder, lusting to inflict pain. Yet the creature was astute; mastered his fury with a
9great effort of the will; composed his two important letters, one to Lanyon and one to Poole; and that he might receive
10actual evidence of their being posted, sent them out with directions that they should be registered. Thenceforward, he
11sat all day over the fire in the private room, gnawing his nails; there he dined, sitting alone with his fears, the
12waiter visibly quailing before his eye; and thence, when the night was fully come, he set forth in the corner of a
13closed cab, and was driven to and fro about the streets of the city. He, I say--I cannot say, I. That child of Hell had
14nothing human; nothing lived in him but fear and hatred. And when at last, thinking the driver had begun to grow
15suspicious, he discharged the cab and ventured on foot, attired in his misfitting clothes, an object marked out for
16observation, into the midst of the nocturnal passengers, these two base passions raged within him like a tempest. He
17walked fast, hunted by his fears, chattering to himself, skulking through the less frequented thoroughfares, counting
18the minutes that still divided him from midnight. Once a woman spoke to him, offering, I think, a box of lights. He
19smote her in the face, and she fled. When I came to myself at Lanyon's, the horror of my old friend perhaps affected me
20somewhat: I do not know; it was at least but a drop in the sea to the abhorrence with which I looked back upon these
21hours. A change had come over me. It was no longer the fear of the gallows, it was the horror of being Hyde that racked
22me. I received Lanyon's condemnation partly in a dream; it was partly in a dream that I came home to my own house and
23got into bed. I slept after the prostration of the day, with a stringent and profound slumber which not even the
24nightmares that wrung me could avail to break. I awoke in the morning shaken, weakened, but refreshed. I still hated and
25feared the thought of the brute that slept within me, and I had not of course forgotten the appalling dangers of the day
26before; but I was once more at home, in my own house and close to my drugs; and gratitude for my escape shone so strong
27in my soul that it almost rivalled the brightness of hope. I was stepping leisurely across the court after breakfast,
28drinking the chill of the air with pleasure, when I was seized again with those indescribable sensations that heralded
29the change; and I had but the time to gain the shelter of my cabinet, before I was once again raging and freezing with
30the passions of Hyde. It took on this occasion a double dose to recall me to myself; and alas! six hours after, as I sat
31looking sadly in the fire, the pangs returned, and the drug had to be re-administered. In short, from that day forth it
32seemed only by a great effort as of gymnastics, and only under the immediate stimulation of the drug, that I was able to
33wear the countenance of Jekyll. At all hours of the day and night, I would be taken with the premonitory shudder; above
34all, if I slept, or even dozed for a moment in my chair, it was always as Hyde that I awakened. Under the strain of this
35continually impending doom and by the sleeplessness to which I now condemned myself, ay, even beyond what I had thought
36possible to man, I became, in my own person, a creature eaten up and emptied by fever, languidly weak both in body and
37mind, and solely occupied by one thought: the horror of my other self. But when I slept, or when the virtue of the
38medicine wore off, I would leap almost without transition (for the pangs of transformation grew daily less marked) into
39the possession of a fancy brimming with images of terror, a soul boiling with causeless hatreds, and a body that seemed
40not strong enough to contain the raging energies of life. The powers of Hyde seemed to have grown with the sickliness of
41Jekyll. And certainly the hate that now divided them was equal on each side. With Jekyll, it was a thing of vital
42instinct. He had now seen the full deformity of that creature that shared with him some of the phenomena of
43consciousness, and was co-heir with him to death: and beyond these links of community, which in themselves made the most
44poignant part of his distress, he thought of Hyde, for all his energy of life, as of something not only hellish but
45inorganic. This was the shocking thing; that the slime of the pit seemed to utter cries and voices; that the amorphous
46dust gesticulated and sinned; that what was dead, and had no shape, should usurp the offices of life. And this again,
47that that insurgent horror was knit to him closer than a wife, closer than an eye; lay caged in his flesh, where he
48heard it mutter and felt it struggle to be born; and at every hour of weakness, and in the confidence of slumber,
49prevailed against him, and deposed him out of life. The hatred of Hyde for Jekyll was of a different order. His terror
50of the gallows drove him continually to commit temporary suicide, and return to his subordinate station of a part
51instead of a person; but he loathed the necessity, he loathed the despondency into which Jekyll was now fallen, and he
52resented the dislike with which he was himself regarded. Hence the ape-like tricks that he would play me, scrawling in
53my own hand blasphemies on the pages of my books, burning the letters and destroying the portrait of my father; and
54indeed, had it not been for his fear of death, he would long ago have ruined himself in order to involve me in the ruin.
55But his love of life is wonderful; I go further: I, who sicken and freeze at the mere thought of him, when I recall the
56abjection and passion of this attachment, and when I know how he fears my power to cut him off by suicide, I find it in
57my heart to pity him. It is useless, and the time awfully fails me, to prolong this description; no one has ever
58suffered such torments, let that suffice; and yet even to these, habit brought--no, not alleviation--but a certain
59callousness of soul, a certain acquiescence of despair; and my punishment might have gone on for years, but for the last
60calamity which has now fallen, and which has finally severed me from my own face and nature. My provision of the salt,
61which had never been renewed since the date of the first experiment, began to run low. I sent out for a fresh supply and
62mixed the draught; the ebullition followed, and the first change of colour, not the second; I drank it and it was
63without efficiency. You will learn from Poole how I have had London ransacked; it was in vain; and I am now persuaded
64that my first supply was impure, and that it was that unknown impurity which lent efficacy to the draught.
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