Poole and Utterson break into the cabinet

Poole and Utterson break into the cabinet is the climactic action of the novel, in which the lawyer and the butler, driven by mounting terror and suspicion, force their way into Dr. Jekyll's locked cabinet and discover the dead body of Edward Hyde, bringing the mystery to its violent physical conclusion.

The Decision to Break In

On a wild, cold March night, Poole arrives unexpectedly at Mr. Utterson's fireside, his manner so altered that the lawyer immediately senses something seriously amiss. Poole has been afraid for about a week and can bear it no longer; he believes there has been foul play. The butler's appearance amply bears out his words: he has not once looked the lawyer in the face, and he sits with a glass of wine untasted on his knee, his eyes directed to a corner of the floor. Utterson, though frightened and rather inclined to be irritated, agrees to accompany Poole to the house. As they walk through the deserted, wind-swept streets, Utterson is conscious of a crushing anticipation of calamity. At the house, the servants are huddled together like a flock of sheep, and the housemaid breaks into hysterical whimpering at the sight of the lawyer. Poole leads Utterson through the back garden and into the laboratory building, where he mounts the steps and knocks on the red baize door of the cabinet. A voice answers complainingly, "Tell him I cannot see anyone." Poole asks Utterson directly whether that was his master's voice, and the lawyer admits it seems much changed. Poole insists that the thing in the cabinet is not Dr. Jekyll: his master is a tall, fine build of a man, and this was more of a dwarf. He has seen the creature—a masked figure that gave a kind of cry and whipped upstairs like a monkey—and he is convinced that murder has been done. Utterson, after examining a crumpled note from the cabinet that is unquestionably in the doctor's hand but betrays desperate emotion, finally declares that if Poole says so, it will become his duty to break in the door.

The Forcing of the Door

Poole fetches an axe from the theatre, and Utterson takes the kitchen poker as a weapon. The lawyer acknowledges that they are about to place themselves in a position of some peril, and they agree to be frank: Poole believes the masked figure was Mr. Hyde, and Utterson's fears incline to the same point. They give the footman Bradshaw ten minutes to take up a post at the laboratory door with a pair of good sticks, lest any malefactor seek to escape by the back. Then, in the dark yard, they sit down silently in the shelter of the theatre to wait. London hums solemnly all around, but the stillness is broken only by the sound of a footfall moving to and fro along the cabinet floor. Poole whispers that it walks all day and the better part of the night, and that once he heard it weeping like a woman or a lost soul. When the ten minutes have passed, Poole disinters the axe from under a stack of packing straw, and they draw near with bated breath. Utterson calls out, demanding to see Jekyll, and when there is no reply, he warns that he will use brute force. The voice from within cries, "Utterson, for God's sake, have mercy!" Utterson recognizes it as Hyde's voice and shouts, "Down with the door, Poole!" Poole swings the axe over his shoulder; the blow shakes the building, and a dismal screech of mere animal terror rings from the cabinet. The axe rises again and again; the panels crash and the frame bounds. It is not until the fifth blow that the lock bursts and the wreck of the door falls inwards on the carpet.

The Discovery of Hyde's Body

The besiegers, appalled by their own riot and the stillness that has succeeded, peer into the cabinet. It lies before them in quiet lamplight, with a good fire glowing, the kettle singing, papers neatly set forth on the business table, and the things laid out for tea—the quietest, most commonplace room in London, but for the glazed presses full of chemicals. Right in the middle lies the body of a man, sorely contorted and still twitching. They turn it on its back and behold the face of Edward Hyde. He is dressed in clothes far too large for him, clothes of the doctor's bigness. The cords of his face still move with a semblance of life, but life is quite gone. By the crushed phial in his hand and the strong smell of kernels that hangs upon the air, Utterson knows that he is looking on the body of a self-destroyer. "We have come too late," he says sternly, "whether to save or punish. Hyde is gone to his account; and it only remains for us to find the body of your master."