The morning brought a knock at the door and a delivery from Henry Jekyll. It was the promised will. I opened it and read the words written there. Some of the language differed from that which I would normally use, but it was all entirely legal. Should Doctor Henry Jekyll disappear for any length of time longer than four days, all his goods and duties would revert to Mister Edward Hyde. If the Doctor failed to ever reappear, then all of his life would be Mister Hyde's to deal with and dispose of as he saw fit. I shuddered as I read it, seeing it as nothing more than a licence for murder, and wondered once again what terrible hold this man held over my friend.

I took the will to my office and locked it in the desk drawer that I reserved for sensitive documents.

After that I could not settle, but prowled my rooms all the day, moving to the desk to remove the will and stand with it in front of the empty fireplace, contemplating using it to kindle a blaze that would free my friend.

After the third time I so stood, I once again replaced it in the drawer, locked it, and left the house, punishing myself with a long walk through the more dismal streets of the city. The attempt to drown my thoughts in the sights, sounds and smells of the rest of humanity was a brave one, but essentially futile. I knew, even on that first day of holding the will, that it would haunt me until I was able to return it unused to Doctor Jekyll. I did not even consider that any other action would ever be necessary.