generosities, need labour under no alarm for his safety as he had means of escape on which he placed a sure dependence. The lawyer liked this letter well enough; it put a better colour on the intimacy than he had looked for; and he blamed himself for some of his past suspicions.
“Have you the envelope?” he asked.
“I burned it,” replied Jekyll, “before I thought what I was about. But it bore no postmark. The note was handed in.”
“Shall I keep this and sleep upon it?” asked Utterson.
“I wish you to judge for me entirely,” was the reply. “I have lost confidence in myself.”
“Well, I shall consider,” returned the lawyer. “And now one word more: it was Hyde who dictated the terms in your will about that disappearance?”
The doctor seemed seized with a qualm of faintness; he shut his mouth tight and nodded.
“I knew it,” said Utterson. “He meant to murder you. You have had a fine escape.”
“I have had what is far more to the purpose,” returned the doctor solemnly: “I have had a lesson—O God, Utterson, what a lesson I have had!” And he covered his face for a moment with his hands.
On his way out, the lawyer stopped and had a word or two with Poole. “By the by,” said he, “there was a letter handed in today: what was the messenger like?” But Poole was positive nothing had come except by post; “and only circulars by that,” he added.
This news sent off the visitor with his fears renewed. Plainly the letter had come by the laboratory door; possibly, indeed, it had been written in