Utterson confronts Hyde

Mr. Utterson, the lawyer, had been haunting the by-street door for weeks, driven by a singularly strong curiosity to behold the features of the real Mr. Hyde. His patience was rewarded on a fine dry night, when the streets were clean and silent, and the lamps drew a regular pattern of light and shadow. As he stood at his post, an odd light footstep drew near, and Utterson, with a superstitious prevision of success, withdrew into the entry of the court. The steps drew swiftly nearer, and the lawyer could soon see the man: small, plainly dressed, and with a look that went strongly against the watcher's inclination. The man made straight for the door, drawing a key from his pocket like one approaching home.

The Encounter and the Demand

Mr. Utterson stepped out and touched the man on the shoulder as he passed. "Mr. Hyde, I think?" he said. Mr. Hyde shrank back with a hissing intake of the breath, but his fear was only momentary. Though he did not look the lawyer in the face, he answered coolly enough, "That is my name. What do you want?" Utterson identified himself as an old friend of Dr. Jekyll's and asked to be admitted, but Hyde replied that Jekyll was from home. Then, suddenly but still without looking up, Hyde asked, "How did you know me?" Utterson turned the question aside and instead asked a favour: "Will you let me see your face?" Hyde appeared to hesitate, then, as if upon some sudden reflection, fronted about with an air of defiance, and the pair stared at each other pretty fixedly for a few seconds. "Now I shall know you again," said Utterson. "It may be useful."

Hyde's Response and Utterson's Horror

Hyde returned that it was as well they had met, and gave his address—a number of a street in Soho. Utterson, thinking of the will, kept his feelings to himself. When Hyde pressed again to know how Utterson had recognized him, the lawyer replied, "By description." Hyde demanded to know whose description, and Utterson answered, "We have common friends." "Common friends," echoed Hyde, a little hoarsely. "Who are they?" "Jekyll, for instance," said the lawyer. At this, Hyde cried out with a flush of anger, "He never told you! I did not think you would have lied." Utterson rebuked him, and the other snarled aloud into a savage laugh, then with extraordinary quickness unlocked the door and disappeared into the house.

Aftermath and Interpretation

The lawyer stood awhile, the picture of disquietude, then began slowly to mount the street, pausing every step or two and putting his hand to his brow like a man in mental perplexity. He catalogued Hyde's features: pale and dwarfish, an impression of deformity without any nameable malformation, a displeasing smile, a murderous mixture of timidity and boldness, a husky, whispering and somewhat broken voice. Yet none of these together could explain the hitherto unknown disgust, loathing and fear with which Utterson regarded him. "There must be something else," he thought. "God bless me, the man seems hardly human! Something troglodytic, shall we say? or can it be the old story of Dr. Fell? or is it the mere radiance of a foul soul that thus transpires through, and transfigures, its clay continent? The last, I think; for, O my poor old Harry Jekyll, if ever I read Satan's signature upon a face, it is on that of your new friend."