And so it was on this morning, when upon waking I was unsure of what Hyde had been up to on the previous evening. Yet, even as I stood, being careful not to jog my aching head, and made my way to get some kind of analgesic to soothe it, I noticed more concrete evidence of his travels. Unable to support my aching brain, my hanging head let me gaze down the length of my body, and I made out stains down the edge of the jacket, continued on the leg of my trousers. A closer inspection revealed them to be quite a large quantity of blood. My faltering memories seemed to remember Hyde's hands wiping the blood there, but where the blood had come from I did not know. Moving to the glass that I had asked Poole to move from my bedroom to my lab, I looked at myself. I seemed unharmed, and apart from the ache in my head I couldn't feel any other pain, so I had to presume that the blood was not mine. I checked my hands for abrasions, but there were no cuts or bruises on the knuckles to suggest I had fought with anyone. There was a faint row of marks on my palm, but they looked like nothing I could identify.

Despite all these reassurances, I was still unsure whether I had been the cause of the blood the previous night, and from that day forswore my potions.

It was an oath which was not to last.