Странная история доктора Джекила и мистера Хайда
The Last Night
Poole,whohadkeptallthewayapaceortwoahead,nowpulledupinthemiddleofthepavement,andinspiteofthebitingweather,tookoffhishatandmoppedhisbrowwitharedpocket-handkerchief. Butforallthehurryofhiscowing,thesewerenotthedewsofexertionthathewipedaway,butthemoistureofsomestranglinganguish;forhisfacewaswhiteandhisvoice,whenhespoke,harshandbroken.
“Well,sir,”hesaid,“hereweare,andGodgranttherebenothingwrong.”
“Amen,Poole,”saidthelawyer.
Thereupontheservantknockedinaveryguardedmanner;thedoorwasopenedonthechain;andavoiceaskedfromwithin, “Isthatyou,Poole?”
“It’sallright,”saidPoole.“Openthedoor.” Thehall,whentheyenteredit,wasbrightlylightedup;thefirewasbuilthigh;andaboutthehearththewholeoftheservants,menandwomen,stoodhuddledtogetherlikeaflockofsheep. AtthesightofMr.Utterson,thehousemaidbrokeintohystericalwhimpering;andthecook,cryingout, “BlessGod!it’sMr.Utterson,”ranforwardasiftotakehiminherarms.
“What,what?Areyouallhere?”saidthelawyerpeevishly. “Veryirregular,veryunseemly;yourmasterwouldbefarfrompleased.”
“They’reallafraid,”saidPoole.
Blanksilencefollowed,nooneprotesting;onlythemaidlifteduphervoiceandnowweptloudly.
