Дивна історія доктора Джекіла і містера Хайда
The Last Night
“Thenyoumustknowaswellastherestofusthattherewassomethingqueeraboutthatgentleman—somethingthatgaveamanaturn—Idon’tknowrightlyhowtosayit,sir,beyondthis: thatyoufeltitinyourmarrowkindofcoldandthin.”
“IownIfeltsomethingofwhatyoudescribe,”saidMr.Utterson.
“Quiteso,sir,”returnedPoole. “Well,whenthatmaskedthinglikeamonkeyjumpedfromamongthechemicalsandwhippedintothecabinet,itwentdownmyspinelikeice. Oh,Iknowit’snotevidence,Mr.Utterson. I’mbook-learnedenoughforthat; butamanhashis,feelings,andIgiveyoumybible-worditwasMr.Hyde!”
“Ay,ay,”saidthelawyer. “Myfearsinclinetothesamepoint. Evil,Ifear,founded—evilwassuretocome—ofthatconnection. Ay,truly,Ibelieveyou;IbelievepoorHarryiskilled;andIbelievehismurderer(forwhatpurpose,Godalonecantell)isstilllurkinginhisvictim’sroom. Well,letournamebevengeance. CallBradshaw.”
Thefootmancameatthesummons,verywhiteandnervous.
“Pullyourselftogether,Bradshaw,”saidthelawyer. “Thissuspense,Iknow,istellinguponallofyou;butitisnowourintentiontomakeanendofit. Poole,here,andIaregoingtoforceourwayintothecabinet. Ifalliswell,myshouldersarebroadenoughtobeartheblame.
