Странная история доктора Джекила и мистера Хайда

The Last Night

           Poole,whohadkeptallthewayapaceortwoahead,nowpulledupinthemiddleofthepavement,andinspiteofthebitingweather,tookoffhishatandmoppedhisbrowwitharedpocket-handkerchief. Butforallthehurryofhiscowing,thesewerenotthedewsofexertionthathewipedaway,butthemoistureofsomestranglinganguish;forhisfacewaswhiteandhisvoice,whenhespoke,harshandbroken. 

           “Well,sir,”hesaid,“hereweare,andGodgranttherebenothingwrong.” 

           “Amen,Poole,”saidthelawyer. 

           Thereupontheservantknockedinaveryguardedmanner;thedoorwasopenedonthechain;andavoiceaskedfromwithin, “Isthatyou,Poole?” 

           “It’sallright,”saidPoole.“Openthedoor.” Thehall,whentheyenteredit,wasbrightlylightedup;thefirewasbuilthigh;andaboutthehearththewholeoftheservants,menandwomen,stoodhuddledtogetherlikeaflockofsheep. AtthesightofMr.Utterson,thehousemaidbrokeintohystericalwhimpering;andthecook,cryingout, “BlessGod!it’sMr.Utterson,”ranforwardasiftotakehiminherarms. 

           “What,what?Areyouallhere?”saidthelawyerpeevishly. “Veryirregular,veryunseemly;yourmasterwouldbefarfrompleased.” 

           “They’reallafraid,”saidPoole. 

           Blanksilencefollowed,nooneprotesting;onlythemaidlifteduphervoiceandnowweptloudly. 

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