In a daze, I walked out behind him, and stood on the doorstep watching him stalk off into the night. I lost him in the haze of the rain, and was staring at the place where I had last seen him when a cough behind me brought me back to myself. I turned to see Hutchinson clutching Jekyll's hat and coat.

I nodded to him, and told him to hang them in the closet against Jekyll sending for them. If I had been in a better mood, I might have sent Hutchinson after him, but having been so abused in my own home, I was not inspired to any act of kindness.

I returned to the dining room and poured myself another glass of wine. I sat in front of the fire and thought about the events of the evening, and worried for Henry Jekyll's immortal soul. I hoped that his claims to have found a method of transformation were posturing and nothing more, but I couldn't help but worry that they could be true.

I did not get to my bed until very late that night.