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I shuffled through my pockets, and pulled out a thin, metallic key cold to the touch. It had been coated in what appeared to be black paint in such poor quality that the constant wear had tarnished the glaze, slowly chipping off. The metal under it glinted a tad in the moonlight. Why I had been examining a simple key, I could not tell you. What had I to do with such a miniscule thing? I simply wanted to head home, and continued to do so. However, on my way back, I had begun to hear footsteps behind me. The clicking of heels, or perhaps platforms, right on the lane. I naturally began to pick up to pace to my apartment. Holding the brim of my hat, I hear only the footsteps getting louder and louder, nearer and nearer. The roadway had been crossed diagonally, but whoever this man is, whatever manner his person, had not seemed to give up. For a reason unbeknownst to me, he continued to follow me step by step, though failing to imitate the growing agitation in my nature of character.
I felt a light tap on my shoulder and froze, tightening the grip I had on my hat. A familiar voice makes itself heard to me… it is that of a good friend of mine! Out of disguise, undoubtedly… I suppose it wouldn’t quite be appropriate for a lawyer such as himself, with his noble nature, to befriend a pale and short, nearly dwarfish man who had treaded over little girl without remorse the other day. He addresses me as “Mr. Hyde, I think?”
I bowed my head just a little bit, my lungs filling from a long, sharp inhale I took to steady my voice before replying. After an exhale that was quite unconfident, the slight tremor in my breath displaying fear, I brought my head back up and gripped my cane with both hands. I turned my head just slightly to the right so that he may see one of my eyes as I reply, my messy and uncombed hair covering the rest of my face. “That is my name,” I returned coldly. “What do you want?”
The man, Gabriel John Utterson, simply responded to my glare that shower clear disinterest with a calm expression. He was oblivious to my keenness to leave the conversation and pressed on, amplifying my current irritation even further. “I see you are going in,” he continued. Oh my, how observant! How would anybody else would have known? Only such acute eyes could spot the very obvious key in my hand. “I am an old friend of Dr. Jekyll’s—Mr. Utterson of Gaunt Street—you must have heard my name; and meeting you so conveniently, I thought you might admit me.”
I locked eyes with him and snapped, “You will not find Dr. Jekyll; he is from home.” I turned away once more and proceeded to stick the key into the keyhole. However, my intrigue had been prevalent, and my curiosity even more so. I decided not to turn the key and instead asked, “how did you know me?”
“On your side,” he replied, monotonous. “Will you do me a favour?”
I sigh, but nonetheless say, “with pleasure. What shall it be?”
Without hesitation, he asked if I shall allow him the grace of seeing my face. The air turned cold, and I had almost just turned the key and walked right in. However, albeit hesitant, I turned to face him and looked up so we made eye contact. He stared at me for a few seconds, and I stared right back. His gaze stood fixed on me until he slightly crooked his neck, turning his head with it. “Now I shall know you again,” he finally said, breaking the tense silence we had both found ourselves in. “It may be useful.”
“Yes,” I returned, my tone seeming almost petulant when compared to the flat and unvarying way he said his words. Something about this man and his simple composition seemed maddening in this moment. “It is as well we have met,” I continued, “and à propos, you should have my address.” I gave to him a street number all the way back in Soho, trying all the while to stifle a mischievous giggle. “And now,” I resumed, “how did you know me?” I was intrigued to know how he had heard of Mr. Hyde.
“By description,” he replied simply.
“Whose description?” I was curious as to who would have given him such a description. What had they would have even said when recounting my looks? Paper white skin, a small figure, an ‘eerie air?’ I do end up chuckling at the thought, though quickly compose myself and wait for the lawyer to respond.
“We have common friends,” he answered, no rush in his tone. In contrast, I was getting quite restless. I sighed, making my disdain and impatience evident so that he may say anything of use to me. Give me a name, damn you!
“Common friends? Who are they?”
“Jekyll, for instance.”
It was silent for a moment until I mumble, “he never told you,” under my breath. He hadn’t seemed to have heard me, and I cried out louder, “he never told you!” I was unable to restrain my anger at this point, pointing my cane at his chest in an accusatory manner. “I did not think you would have lied.”
“Come,” he spoke, clearly unconcerned. Of all the men I have ever made myself acquainted with, I now have no doubt that he is the most unhelpful, aggravating, and tiresome one I have ever had the displeasure of meeting “That is not fitting language,” he continued with that soft, unwavering voice.
I growl, the snarl turning into a laugh. I could not stop myself! Who does Utterson think he is, speaking to me like that? In a flash, I let myself into the house and left him in the dark, right outside of my door.