1 The Door

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CHAPTER 1 The Door It was often said that Mr. Utterson was very quiet for a lawyer. He was happier listening to others talk than talking himself. He did not brag or boast about his work. He did not spend too much time thinking about himself. Quite simply, he was a rare and admired man. His clients were the misfits of society.

They were people who often lived and worked on the wrong side of the law. Mr. Utterson always minded his own business and kept his distance, though. He merely did his job. He prepared wills and arranged finances—and turned a blind eye to everything else. He was careful never to get involved. Mr. Utterson was a man of order and routine. He never seemed to do anything even remotely exciting. In fact, he felt quite uneasy if anything was out of place. His schedule was set and he did not like the idea of change. He loved the theater, but he had not gone in over twenty years. He loved bridge, but he never played. The truth was that many people considered Mr. Utterson to be dreary, dusty, and cold. Yet, Mr. Utterson was a well-loved man. His friends saw a different side to him. They saw a special spark in his eye. They knew him to be a kind, concerned, and caring man.

He was favorite guest at dinner parties. He could always be counted on to listen to problems and offer wise advice. He was considered a dear, trusted friend by any who knew him. Mr. Utterson's friends were relatives or men that he had known for many, many years. He did not look outside his small circle for new friends. This suited his need for order and structure. So, each and every Sunday Mr. Utterson joined his cousin Mr. Enfield for a walk. They had been meeting for their Sunday walks for many years. So many years, in fact, that they had lost count. They must have looked a strange pair to all who passed them. The two men spoke very little while walking side by side. They walked in silence, hands in pockets, each swinging walking sticks by their sides. When they happened to see a friend along the way, they seemed overjoyed for the distraction.

They always urged the friend to join them on their journey. Looks can be deceiving, however. The men enjoyed their Sunday walks a great deal and refused to let anything delay them. It was on one of their walks that Mr. Utterson and Mr. Enfield found themselves in a busy section of London. People filled the streets. Everyone, it seemed, was enjoying the sunny day. Mr. Utterson and his cousin turned down a quiet side street. Normally this street was full of people, but the shops were closed on Sunday. Therefore, the two men had the street almost to themselves. Unlike the rest of the neighborhood, which was run down, the residents and buildings along this street were doing well. The buildings were neat and clean with freshly- painted shutters and well-polished brass details. Mr. Utterson and Mr. Enfield admired the houses and shops as they walked

past. Two doors from the end of the block stood a building different from the rest. It had a battered doorway leading into a courtyard. The paint on the door was chipped, and the latch looked about to fall off. The building was two stories high. From what they could see from the street, it was in complete disrepair. The building looked neglected and abandoned. There were no windows on the wall facing the two men, only the door, without a bell or knocker. They were standing across the street from the building. Mr. Enfield lifted his cane and pointed. "Have you ever noticed that door?" he asked his cousin. Mr. Utterson answered that he had. "It always makes me remember a very odd story," Mr. Enfield continued. "Really?" said Mr. Utterson. "And what was that?" He looked at his cousin. Mr. Enfield was deep in thought.