6 A face at the window

Chapter 6 A face at the window Time ran on, and the hunt for Edward Hyde continued all over London. Thousands of pounds were offered in reward. But he had no family, and no photographs had ever been taken of him. Those who had seen his face found that they could not really describe him, other than to agree that he was a detestable- looking man. As the weeks passed, Utterson thought less of Hyde, and more of Henry, who had become a new man. The doctor invited Utterson and Lanyon for dinner, and the three friends talked and laughed about old times. It was as if a dark cloud had lifted from over him.

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Then, two months later, the cloud returned. It was a crisp January evening, and Utterson was on one of his walks through the city. He decided to pay Henry a visit. But when he reached the doctor's house, Poole wouldn't let him in. "My master is confined to the house today," the butler said. "Is he sick?" Utterson asked. "Sir," Poole said, his face darkening, "I cannot say what is wrong with him." Worried, Utterson marched around to the back of the house. He called to the laboratory window, "Henry! Are you unwell?"

A curtain rustled in the breeze. Moments later, Henry Jekyll appeared at the window. He looked like a prisoner in a dungeon, with pale skin and sunken eyes. "I am very low Utterson," he said drearily. "You stay indoors too much," Utterson said. "Get your hat and come for a walk."

Jekyll smiled sadly. "You are a good friend Utterson," he said, "but I am afraid we can never meet again. From now on I intend to remain confined to my house." "My dear chap, whatever for?" "I have brought upon myself a punishment I cannot name. Ask Lanyon, he will tell you..." Before Utterson could reply, Jekyll gave a terrific cry. He gritted his teeth and bent over, as if fighting some terrible pain. But the pain was too much.

The doctor collapsed back, clutching his stomach and crying out again. Utterson heard a table crash over, and glass smash. Then, suddenly, the window slammed shut. "Henry..." Utterson whispered. "What has become of you?" He rushed to Lanyon's house. But there, too, he found his friend unwell. Lanyon lay in bed, the blanket pulled up to his chin. Each time a door creaked or a window rattled in the wind, the doctor's eyes darted around the room. It seemed as if the man's nerves had been shattered. "I have had a shock Utterson," he said in a trembling voice, "from which I fear I shall never recover." "Henry is ill too," Utterson said. "Have you seen him?" A terrified whimper escaped Lanyon's lips. He sank deeper under his covers.