At breakfast my master was pale and I did not urge him to finish his breakfast as I usually would, for I did not want to upset his constitution. However, I tried to act as normally as possible, despite an almost visceral urge not to get too close to him.

After he had left for the day and I had overseen the clearing of the table, I made myself go, once more, up to his cabinet. It was empty, so I set about rebuilding the fire for later. Turning at one point to grab the large log that I had set aside as the main part of the fuel, I saw my master's trousers lying in a puddle on the floor next to the cheval glass. They were covered with dirt and, as I picked them up, I realised there was a darkened patch all along the leg which had stiffened the fabric as it dried. I ran my finger over it and saw the unmistakable rust colour form on my finger. I managed to hold onto my gorge as it tried to rise, but I could not stop the single tear that squeezed from my left eye and ran down my cheek. I did not think it was the doctor's blood, nor the blood of the other, and thoughts of whose blood it might be pained me to the heart.

Still, it is my duty to be his right hand, so I finished building the fire, and banked it to let it burn slowly until the doctor needed it, and then I took the trousers back to the main house. I washed the stain from them myself before I passed them on to be more comprehensively laundered. Doctor Jekyll had his secrets and if he was in no position to keep them for himself, then I would have to help as much as I could.