Utterson–Poole relationship

The Utterson–Poole relationship begins as a conventional master-servant connection but deepens into a partnership of mutual reliance during the final crisis of the novel. Poole, the butler of Dr. Jekyll's household, has served the doctor for twenty years and knows his master's habits, stature, and voice intimately. Mr. Utterson, the lawyer and Jekyll's longtime friend, has been a regular visitor to the house and is known to the servants. When Poole arrives unexpectedly at Utterson's home one evening, his altered appearance and fearful demeanor immediately signal that something is seriously wrong. The butler, who has not once looked the lawyer in the face except when first announcing his terror, sits with a glass of wine untasted on his knee, his eyes directed to a corner of the floor, and repeats, "I can bear it no more." This breach of decorum—a servant visiting a gentleman's private residence uninvited—underscores the extremity of the situation and the trust Poole places in Utterson as the one person who might help.

The Alliance Formed in Crisis

Poole's initial report is vague but urgent: he thinks there has been "foul play" and begs Utterson to come and see for himself. Utterson's only answer is to rise and get his hat and greatcoat, and he observes with wonder the greatness of the relief that appears upon the butler's face. As they walk through the wild, cold March night, Poole keeps a pace or two ahead, and despite the biting weather, he takes off his hat and mops his brow with a red pocket-handkerchief—not the dews of exertion but the moisture of strangling anguish, for his face is white and his voice harsh and broken. At the house, Utterson finds the entire household of servants huddled together like a flock of sheep, the housemaid breaking into hysterical whimpering. Poole's authority over the other servants is evident when he silences the maid with a ferocity that testifies to his own jangled nerves, and then leads Utterson through the back garden to the laboratory building. The butler's instructions are precise and ominous: "you come as gently as you can. I want you to hear, and I don't want you to be heard. And see here, sir, if by any chance he was to ask you in, don't go." This warning, which makes Utterson's nerves give a jerk that nearly throws him from his balance, establishes the shared understanding that whatever is behind the cabinet door is not to be trusted.

The Evidence and the Decision to Break In

Poole's testimony to Utterson is built on two decades of intimate knowledge of his master. When the voice from the cabinet answers, "Tell him I cannot see anyone," Poole asks Utterson directly, "Was that my master's voice?" Utterson admits it seems much changed, and Poole presses his case: "Have I been twenty years in this man's house, to be deceived about his voice? No, sir; master's made away with; he was made away with eight days ago, when we heard him cry out upon the name of God; and who's in there instead of him, and why it stays there, is a thing that cries to Heaven, Mr. Utterson!" Utterson initially resists, arguing that the murderer would not stay, but Poole counters with further evidence: the creature in the cabinet has been crying night and day for a specific medicine, sending orders and complaints to wholesale chemists, and when Poole once saw the figure briefly, it wore a mask, cried out like a rat, and ran from him. The butler's clinching argument is physical: "My master is a tall, fine build of a man, and this was more of a dwarf." Utterson, convinced at last, declares, "if you say that, it will become my duty to make certain. Much as I desire to spare your master's feelings, much as I am puzzled by this note which seems to prove him to be still alive, I shall consider it my duty to break in that door." Poole's response—"Ah, Mr. Utterson, that's talking!"—marks the moment the two men become co-conspirators in a forcible entry.

The Joint Action and Its Aftermath

Utterson and Poole arm themselves, the lawyer taking the kitchen poker and the butler an axe from the theatre. Utterson acknowledges the peril of their position and insists on frankness: "We both think more than we have said; let us make a clean breast." When Poole admits he believes the masked figure was Mr. Hyde, Utterson concurs: "My fears incline to the same point. Evil, I fear, founded—evil was sure to come—of that connection. Ay truly, I believe you; I believe poor Harry is killed; and I believe his murderer (for what purpose, God alone can tell) is still lurking in his victim's room. Well, let our name be vengeance." They station the footman Bradshaw and a boy at the laboratory door to prevent escape, then proceed to the theatre to wait. As they listen to the light, odd footfall pacing the cabinet floor, Poole whispers that once he heard it weeping "like a woman or a lost soul." When Utterson calls out and the voice answers "for God's sake, have mercy!" Utterson recognizes it as Hyde's, not Jekyll's, and commands, "Down with the door, Poole!" Poole swings the axe; after five blows the lock bursts and the door falls inward. Inside they find the body of Edward Hyde, dead by his own hand from a crushed phial. Utterson declares, "We have come too late, whether to save or punish. Hyde is gone to his account; and it only remains for us to find the body of your master." Their subsequent search of the building reveals no trace of Henry Jekyll, alive or dead, but they discover a new will naming Utterson as beneficiary and a sealed packet containing Jekyll's confession. Utterson takes the documents home to read, promising to return before midnight to send for the police, and the two men part, having together forced open the final door of the mystery.