Super Trick or Treat System

From then on, Mr. Utterson began to trouble the small streets of small shops. In the morning before office hours, at noon, business is busy and time is short. At night, under the shining of the moon in the foggy city, under all lights, in all loneliness or places, lawyers can be found. .

He once thought: "If he is Mr. Hyde, I will be Mr. Hick."

In the end, his patience paid off. It was a dry night. The frost in the air; the street is as clean as the floor of a ballroom; the lamps that are not blown by the wind draw regular patterns of light and shadow. By ten o'clock, when the shops were closed, the street was very lonely, despite the low roars from all over London. Very small sounds reach far away; the family sounds from houses on both sides of the house are clearly visible. The rumors of any passengers entering the venue predate him. Mr. Utterson had been in office for a few minutes when he knew there was a strange brisk footstep nearby. During the night patrol, he had long been accustomed to the weird effects of single people's footsteps, although he was still far ahead and suddenly stood out from the huge buzz of the city. However, his attention has never been so decisively and decisively attracted as it is now. He resolutely believed in the success of success, so he withdrew from the court.

The steps approached quickly, and when they turned to the end of the street it suddenly rang loudly. The lawyer looked out from the entrance and soon knew what kind of person he had to face. He was small and dressed very plainly. Even at that distance, his expression strongly violated the observer's wishes in some way. But he went straight to the door and crossed the road to save time. When he came, he took out a key from his pocket, like a key going home.

Mr. Utterson walked out and touched his shoulder as he passed. "Mr. Hyde, I think?"

Mr. Hyde took a hoarse breath. But his fear was only temporary. Although he didn't seem to face the lawyer, his answer was calm enough: "That's my name. What do you want?"

The lawyer wrote back: "I know you are going in." "I am an old friend of Dr. Jekyll. Utterson, Kent Street-you must have heard my name; it is easy to know you, I think you might admit mine."

"You can't find Dr. Jekyll; he is at home." Mr. Hyde blew the key. Then suddenly, but still without looking up, "How do you know me?" he asked.

Mr. Utsen said: "On your side, can you do me a favor?"

Another replied: "I am very happy." "What could it be?"

"Can you let me see your face?" asked the lawyer.

Mr. Hyde seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then, after a sudden reflection, came to him in a provocative breath. The two stared almost completely for a few seconds. "Now I will know you again," Mr. Utterson said. "This may be useful."

Mr. Hyde replied: "Yes, the same is true of what we have seen. And, you should have my address". He gave a street in Soho District.

"Oh my God!" thought Mr. Utterson, "may he always think about the will?" But he remained affectionate with himself, but was not satisfied with the confirmation of the address.

The other party said: "Now, how do you know me?"

The answer is "as described".

"Whose description?"

"We have mutual friends," Mr. Utterson said.

"Mutual friend," Mr. Hyde echoed hoarsely. "Who are they?"

"For example, Jekyll," the lawyer said.

"He never told you," Mr. Hyde shouted angrily. "I don't think you can lie."

Mr. Utterson said: "Come on, this is inappropriate language."

The other party roared loudly and let out a savage laugh. The next moment, he unlocked the door with extraordinary agility and disappeared into the room.

When Mr. Hyde left him, the lawyer stood for a while, it was a disturbing picture. Then he started walking slowly into the street, pausing every step or two, and then placing his hand on his forehead like a mentally confused person. Therefore, the problems he debated when he walked were rarely solved. Mr. Hyde was pale and short, giving the impression of deformity, without any obvious deformity; he had an unpleasant smile; he proposed to the lawyer with a timid and bold assassin hybrid, and he spoke hoarsely, whispering and a little Broken voice; all of these are opinions directed at him, but not all of them can explain Mr. Utterson's hitherto unknown aversion, aversion, and fear of him. The confused gentleman said: "There must be something else." "There is if I can find a name. God bless me, this man doesn't seem to be a human! Should we say something untidy? Or is it? The old story of the doctor? Or is it just the light of a dirty soul shining on its earthy continent and changed? I think it’s the last one; because, my poor old Harry Jekyll, if I ever You see Satan’s signature on your face, it’s on your new friend’s face."

At the corner of this small street, there is an old, beautiful square of houses, most of which have now rotted from the high ground, allowing apartments and rooms to adapt to people of various types and conditions. Map engravers, architects, behind-the-scenes lawyers, and obscure corporate agents. However, the second house from the corner is still fully occupied. Mr. Utson was sitting on the door of this door, and even though it had been blown by the strong wind, the fan was full of brilliance. A well-dressed old servant opened the door.

"Is Dr. Jekyll at home, Poole?" asked the lawyer.

"I will see, Mr. Utterson." Poole said, and he admitted that visitors entered a low, covered, comfortable hall, covered with colorful flags, and was followed by bright, open warm air. style. Fire and equipped with expensive oak cabinets. "Sir, will you wait by the fire? Or can I give you a light in the dining room?"

"Here, thank you." The lawyer said, and he approached and leaned against the tall mudguard. Now he is alone in this hall, the darling of his friend doctor. Utterson himself would not say that this is the most pleasant room in London. But tonight his blood was trembling. Hyde's face was remembered heavily on him. He felt nausea and disgust with life rarely seen for him; in his frustration, he seemed to read the danger of the flickering of the fire on the polished cabinets and the uneasy flickering of the shadows on the roof. When Poole returned to announce that Dr. Jekyll was out, he was ashamed of his relief.

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