8 Mr. Hyde’s Apartment

CHAPTER 8 Mr. Hyde's Apartment Utterson took the police to Hyde's apartment in Soho. By this time, it was nine o'clock in the morning. The streets were full of people. Hyde's street was filled with closed stores and rundown buildings. Children wearing little more than rags sat on steps. Men begged for change on the street corner. Utterson wondered again how Dr.

Jekyll had met someone from this neighborhood. He was also reminded of how much Hyde must want to inherit Jekyll's fortune. It would certainly allow him to move away from Soho. A policeman knocked. A woman with silver hair answered the door. Her face was wrinkled and hard. The policeman asked if this was the home of Mr. Edward Hyde. She said that this was his home, but he was not in. "He doesn't always stay here, you know," she said. "As a matter of fact, last night was the first time I had seen him in months." She was confused by the policemen's arrival. What did they want with Mr. Hyde? She could tell that something exciting had happened. Perhaps Hyde had committed some crime. She couldn't wait to hear all the details. She was already planning what she would say to her neighbors. "He was only

here for about an hour, though," she added. "May we see his rooms?" Utterson asked. The woman looked at the lawyer—and the policemen behind him—and let them into the building. "I always suspected that man would find trouble," she said. "What has he done?" Utterson and the policemen exchanged looks, but said nothing. They followed the woman up to Hyde's apartment. The rich warmth of Hyde's rooms surprised Utterson. They were decorated with great luxury and taste. Fine art covered the walls and mantelpiece. He recognized several of the artists and knew the paintings were quite costly. The lawyer suspected that Dr. Jekyll had helped decorate. He knew a great deal about art. The rugs were hand-woven. The curtains were made of dark, heavy cloth. Utterson also noticed the expensive china and crystal about the rooms. He never would

have thought Hyde was the type of person to use such fine dishes. The rooms were a mess. Clothes were scattered about the floor. Drawers were left open and overturned. Ashes from recently burned papers filled the fireplace. The police examined the remains and discovered part of a checkbook. Thankfully, they could still read the account information. The name "Mr. Edward Hyde" was clearly labeled. "This will lead us to him," a police officer said. "All his banking information is here. We can wait for him at the bank and nab him when he tries to withdraw his money." "It seems so careless that he would leave that information behind," Utterson wondered aloud. Although he had only met Mr. Hyde once, Utterson did not think he was the type to be so forgetful. He had seemed so sneaky when they met. He must have been in a terrible hurry, Utterson thought.

The police officer shrugged his shoulders. "The point is that we have him. Mr. Hyde will not slip away," he said. The police were convinced that the case would be closed almost immediately. They predicted that Hyde would be safely in jail by the next day. "I do hope you're right," Utterson remarked. "Nothing would make me happier than to see the end of Mr. Edward Hyde."