Странная история доктора Джекила и мистера Хайда

The Last Night

           Yourmaster,Poole,isplainlyseisedwithoneofthosemaladiesthatbothtortureanddeformthesufferer; hence,foraughtIknow,thealterationofhisvoice; hencethemaskandtheavoidanceofhisfriends; hencehiseagernesstofindthisdrug,bymeansofwhichthepoorsoulretainssomehopeofultimaterecovery—Godgrantthathebenotdeceived! Thereismyexplanation; itissadenough,Poole,ay,andappallingtoconsider;butitisplainandnatural,hangswelltogether,anddeliversusfromallexorbitantalarms.” 

           “Sir,”saidthebutler,turningtoasortofmottledpallor,“thatthingwasnotmymaster,andthere’sthetruth. Mymaster”—herehelookedroundhimandbegantowhisper—“isatall,finebuildofaman,andthiswasmoreofadwarf.” Uttersonattemptedtoprotest. “O,sir,”criedPoole,“doyouthinkIdonotknowmymasteraftertwentyyears? DoyouthinkIdonotknowwherehisheadcomestointhecabinetdoor,whereIsawhimeverymorningofmylife? No,sir,thatthinginthemaskwasneverDr.JekyllGodknowswhatitwas,butitwasneverDr.Jekyll;anditisthebeliefofmyheartthattherewasmurderdone.” 

           “Poole,”repliedthelawyer,“ifyousaythat,itwillbecomemydutytomakecertain. MuchasIdesiretospareyourmaster’sfeelings,muchasIampuzzledbythisnotewhichseemstoprovehimtobestillalive,Ishallconsideritmydutytobreakinthatdoor.” 

           “AhMr.Utterson,that’stalking!”criedthebutler. 

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