He would see lamps of a nocturnal city; then the figure of a man walking swiftly; then a child running from the doctor’s; and then these met, and that human devil trod the child down and passed on regardless of her screams.

Or else he would see a room in a rich house, where his friend lay asleep, dreaming and smiling at his dreams; and then the door of that room would be opened, the curtains of the bed plucked apart, the sleeper recalled, and there would stand by his side a figure to whom power was given. And still the figure had no face by which he might know it; even in his dreams, it had no face, or one that baffled him and melted before his eyes. If he could but once set eyes on him, he thought the mystery would lighten and perhaps roll altogether away, as all mysterious things when well examined.

From that time forward, Mr. Utterson began to haunt the door in the by-street of shops. In the morning before office hours, at noon, and at night under the face of the city moon, the lawyer was to be found on his chosen post.

“If he be Mr. Hyde,” he had thought, “I shall be Mr. Seek.”

And at last his patience was rewarded. It was a fine dry night; frost in the air; the streets were clean; the lamps were drawing a regular pattern of light and shadow. By ten o’clock, when the shops were closed, the by-street was very solitary and very silent. Mr. Utterson had been some minutes at his post, when he was aware of an odd, light footstep drawing near. He withdrew into the entry of the court.

The steps drew swiftly nearer, and swelled out suddenly louder as they turned the end of the street. The lawyer, looking forth from the entry, could soon see the man he had to deal with. He was small and very plainly dressed. And he made straight for the door, crossing the roadway to save time; and as he came, he drew a key from his pocket like one approaching home.

Mr. Utterson stepped out and touched him on the shoulder as he passed. “Mr. Hyde, I think?”

Mr. Hyde shrank back. But his fear was only momentary; and though he did not look the lawyer in the face, he answered coolly enough:

“That is my name. What do you want?”

“I see you are going in,” returned the lawyer. “I am an old friend of Dr. Jekyll’s—Mr. Utterson—you must have heard my name; and meeting you so conveniently, I thought you might let me in.”

“You will not find Dr. Jekyll; he is from home,” replied Mr. Hyde. And then suddenly, but still without looking up,

“How did you know me?” he asked.

“On your side,” said Mr. Utterson, “will you do me a favour?”

“With pleasure,” replied the other. “What shall it be?”

“Will you let me see your face?” asked the lawyer.

Mr. Hyde hesitated, and then looked at Mr. Utterson.

“Now I shall know you again,” said Mr. Utterson. “It may be useful.”

“Yes,” returned Mr. Hyde, “it is as well we have, met; and you should have my address.”

And he gave an address in Soho[12].

“And now,” said Mr. Hyde, “how did you know me?”

“By description,” was the reply.

“Whose description?”

“We have common friends,” said Mr. Utterson.

“Common friends?” echoed Mr. Hyde, a little hoarsely. “Who are they?”

“Jekyll, for instance,” said the lawyer.

“He never told you,” cried Mr. Hyde, with a flush of anger. “I did not think you would have lied!”

He snarled aloud into a savage laugh; and the next moment, with extraordinary quickness, he had unlocked the door and disappeared into the house.

The lawyer stood awhile when Mr. Hyde had left him, in disquietude. Then he began slowly to mount the street, pausing every step or two and putting his hand to his brow like a man in mental perplexity. The problem he was thus debating as he walked, was one of a class that is rarely solved. Mr. Hyde was pale and dwarfish, he gave an impression of deformity without any nameable malformation, he had a displeasing smile; all these were points against him, but not all of these together could explain the hitherto unknown disgust, loathing, and fear with which Mr. Utterson regarded him.