harm it would do. It was a man of the name of Hyde.'
'Hm,' said Mr. Utterson. 'What sort of a man is he to see?'
'He is not easy to describe. There is something wrong with his appearance; something displeasing, something downright detestable. I never saw a man I so disliked, and yet I scarce know why. He must be deformed somewhere; he gives a strong feeling of deformity, although I couldn't specify the point. He's an extraordinary looking man, and yet I really can name nothing out of the way. No, sir; I can make no hand of it; I can't describe him. And it's not want of memory; for I declare I can see him this moment.'
Mr. Utterson again walked some way in silence and obviously under a weight of consideration. 'You are sure he used a key?' he inquired at last.
'My dear sir . . .' began Enfield, surprised out of himself.
'Yes, I know,' said Utterson; 'I know it
