“I burned it,” replied Jekyll, “before I thought what I was about. But it bore no postmark. The note was handed in.” “Shall I keep this and sleep upon it?” asked Utterson. “I wish you to judge for me entirely,” was the reply. “I have lost confidence in myself.” “Well, I shall consider,” returned the lawyer. “And now one word more: it was Hyde who dictated the terms in your will about that disappearance?” The doctor seemed seized with a qualm of faintness; he shut his mouth tight and nodded. “I knew it,” said Utterson. “He meant to murder you. You had a fine escape.” “I have had what is far more to the purpose,” returned the doctor solemnly: “I have had a lesson—O God, Utterson, what a lesson I have had!” And he covered his face for a moment with his hands. On his way out, the lawyer stopped and had a word or two with Poole. “By the bye,” said he, “there was a letter handed in to-day: what was the messenger like?” But Poole was positive nothing had come except by post; “and only circulars by that,” he added. This news sent off the visitor with his fears renewed. Plainly the letter had come by the laboratory door; possibly, indeed, it had been written in the cabinet; and if that were so, it must be differently judged, and handled with the more caution. The newsboys, as he went, were crying themselves hoarse along the footways: “Special edition.