Дивна історія доктора Джекіла і містера Хайда
Story of the Door
“Yes,it’sabadstory. Formymanwasafellowthatnobodycouldhavetodowith,areallydamnableman;andthepersonthatdrewthechequeistheverypinkoftheproprieties,celebratedtoo,and(whatmakesitworse)oneofyourfellowswhodowhattheycallgood. Black-mail,Isuppose;anhonestmanpayingthroughthenoseforsomeofthecapersofhisyouth. Black-MailHouseiswhatIcallthatplacewiththedoor,inconsequence. Thougheventhat,youknow,isfarfromexplainingall,”headded,andwiththewordsfellintoaveinofmusing.
FromthishewasrecalledbyMr.Uttersonaskingrathersuddenly: “Andyoudon’tknowifthedrawerofthechequelivesthere?”
“Alikelyplace,isn’tit?”returnedMr.Enfield. “ButIhappentohavenoticedhisaddress;helivesinsomesquareorother.”
“Andyouneveraskedaboutthe—placewiththedoor?”saidMr.Utterson.
“No,sir:Ihadadelicacy,”wasthereply. “Ifeelverystronglyaboutputtingquestions; itpartakestoomuchofthestyleofthedayofjudgment. Youstartaquestion,andit’slikestartingastone. Yousitquietlyonthetopofahill;andawaythestonegoes,startingothers; andpresentlysomeblandoldbird(thelastyouwouldhavethoughtof)isknockedontheheadinhisownback-gardenandthefamilyhavetochangetheirname. No,sir,Imakeitaruleofmine: themoreitlookslikeQueerStreet,thelessIask.”
“Averygoodrule,too,”saidthelawyer.
