Странная история доктора Джекила и мистера Хайда
Story of the Door
“Well,itwasthisway,”returnedMr.Enfield: “Iwascominghomefromsomeplaceattheendoftheworld,aboutthreeo’clockofablackwintermorning,andmywaylaythroughapartoftownwheretherewasliterallynothingtobeseenbutlamps. Streetafterstreet,andallthefolksasleep—streetafterstreet,alllightedupasifforaprocessionandallasemptyasachurch—tillatlastIgotintothatstateofmindwhenamanlistensandlistensandbeginstolongforthesightofapoliceman. Allatonce,Isawtwofigures: onealittlemanwhowasstumpingalongeastwardatagoodwalk,andtheotheragirlofmaybeeightortenwhowasrunningashardasshewasabledownacrossstreet. Well,sir,thetworanintooneanothernaturallyenoughatthecorner;andthencamethehorriblepartofthething; forthemantrampledcalmlyoverthechild’sbodyandleftherscreamingontheground. Itsoundsnothingtohear,butitwashellishtosee. Itwasn’tlikeaman;itwaslikesomedamnedJuggernaut. Igaveaview-halloa,tooktomyheels,collaredmygentleman,andbroughthimbacktowheretherewasalreadyquiteagroupaboutthescreamingchild. Hewasperfectlycoolandmadenoresistance,butgavemeonelook,souglythatitbroughtoutthesweatonmelikerunning. Thepeoplewhohadturnedoutwerethegirl’sownfamily;andprettysoon,thedoctor,forwhomshehadbeensent,putinhisappearance.
