Странная история доктора Джекила и мистера Хайда
The Last Night
“Thankyou,sir,”saidPoole,withanoteofsomethingliketriumphinhisvoice;andtakinguphiscandle,heledMr.Uttersonbackacrosstheyardandintothegreatkitchen,wherethefirewasoutandthebeetleswereleapingonthefloor.
“Sir,”hesaid,lookingMr.Uttersonintheeyes,“wasthatmymaster’svoice?”
“Itseemsmuchchanged,”repliedthelawyer,verypale,butgivinglookforlook.
“Changed? Well,yes,Ithinkso,”saidthebutler. “HaveIbeentwentyyearsinthisman’shouse,tobedeceivedabouthisvoice? No,sir;master’smadeawaywith;hewasmadeawaywitheightdaysago,whenweheardhimcryoutuponthenameofGod; andwho’sinthereinsteadofhim,andwhyitstaysthere,isathingthatcriestoHeaven,Mr.Utterson!”
“Thisisaverystrangetale,Poole;thisisratherawildtale,myman,”saidMr.Utterson,bitinghisfinger. “Supposeitwereasyousuppose,supposingDr.Jekylltohavebeen—well,murdered,whatcouldinducethemurderertostay? Thatwon’tholdwater; itdoesn’tcommenditselftoreason.”
“Well,Mr.Utterson,youareahardmantosatisfy,butI’lldoityet,”saidPoole. “Allthislastweek(youmustknow)him,orit,orwhateveritisthatlivesinthatcabinet,hasbeencryingnightanddayforsomesortofmedicineandcannotgetittohismind.
