It chanced on Sunday, when Mr. Utterson was on his 
usual walk with Mr. Enfield, that their way lay 
once again through the by-street; and that when 
they came in front of the door, both stopped to 
gaze on it. 

“Well,” said Enfield, “that story’s at an end at 
least. We shall never see more of Mr. Hyde.” 

“I hope not,” said Utterson. “Did I ever tell you 
that I once saw him, and shared your feeling of 
repulsion?” 

“It was impossible to do the one without the other,” 
returned Enfield. “And by the way, what an ass you 
must have thought me, not to know that this was a 
back way to Dr. Jekyll’s! It was partly your own 
fault that I found it out, even when I did.” 

“So you found it out, did you?” said Utterson. “But 
if that be so, we may step into the court and take 
a look at the windows. To tell you the truth, I am 
uneasy about poor Jekyll; and even outside, I feel 
as if the presence of a friend might do him good.” 

The court was very cool and a little damp, and full 
of premature twilight, although the sky, high up 
overhead, was still bright with sunset. The middle 
one of the three windows was half-way open; and 
sitting close beside it, taking the air with an 
infinite sadness of mien, like some disconsolate 
prisoner, Utterson saw Dr. Jekyll. 

“What! Jekyll!” he cried. “I trust you are better.” 

“I am very low, Utterson,” replied the doctor drearily, 
“very low. It will not last long, thank God.” 

“You stay too much indoors,” said the lawyer. “You 
should be out, whipping up the circulation like 
Mr. Enfield and me. (This is my cousin — Mr. Enfield 
— Dr. Jekyll.) Come now; get your hat and take a quick 
turn with us.” 

“You are very good,” sighed the other. “I should like 
to very much; but no, no, no, it is quite impossible; 
I dare not. But indeed, Utterson, I am very glad to 
see you; this is really a great pleasure; I would ask 
you and Mr. Enfield up, but the place is really not fit.” 

“Why, then,” said the lawyer, good-naturedly, “the best 
thing we can do is to stay down here and speak with you 
from where we are.” 

“That is just what I was about to venture to propose,” 
returned the doctor with a smile. But the words were 
hardly uttered, before the smile was struck out of his 
face and succeeded by an expression of such abject terror 
and despair, as froze the very blood of the two gentlemen 
below. They saw it but for a glimpse for the window was 
instantly thrust down; but that glimpse had been sufficient, 
and they turned and left the court without a word. In 
silence, too, they traversed the by-street; and it was not 
until they had come into a neighbouring thoroughfare, where 
even upon a Sunday there were still some stirrings of life, 
that Mr. Utterson at last turned and looked at his companion. 
They were both pale; and there was an answering horror in 
their eyes. 

“God forgive us, God forgive us,” said Mr. Utterson. 

But Mr. Enfield only nodded his head very seriously, and 
walked on once more in silence. 