Additional Chapter:
Between “Lanyon’s Narrative” and “Henry Jekyll’s Full Statement of the Case”

Lanyon’s letter sat on the desk in front of the Mr Utterson where it had been laid once he’d reached its scandalous conclusion. His eyes stared blankly out the window of the dark office as his mind made an attempt to comprehend what his departed friend had confided to him through pen and paper. Paper which now lay abandoned in front of the lawyer as he averted his eyes and the author lay beneath the earth.
Yet, nature was determined to remind Mr Utterson of the letters lying on his desk, for now, abandoned.
The only sources of light that Utterson had in the office were the dimmed, yellowed light of the lamp which sat beside Lanyon’s detestable letter and the dim aged moonlight that creeps through the window to shower Utterson in its own knowledge of the double life of his friend, Mr Henry Jekyll. The same moonlight which had lit the night that Mr Einfield had witness Mr Hyde’s trampling the young girl by the door of Jekyll’s cabinet. The same moonlight which had showered Sir Danvers Carew as Dr Jekyll was possessed by the body of one Mr Hyde and his life ended in such an unruly manner. The very same moonlight which had descended upon the world as Poole and Utterson forced their way through the red door of the cabinet to find the man (if he can be called that) that had caused so much woe for Utterson.

Mr Utterson’s thought scour the landscape of his mind for signs that he may have overlooked that may signalise that the doctor, and his dear friend, was in fact a monster. A monster to commit such unspeakable acts and show no remorse, and now he would never show the remorse for the crimes he committed.
Utterson reminds himself of his own searching for the monster (whom then he merely knew as Mr Hyde, Dr Jekyll’s acquaintance) and speaks the words he had thought whilst he stood in the dark waiting, “If he be Mr Hyde, I shall be Mr Seek.”
The words seemed trivial at the present with what he now understood of Mr Hyde, this knowledge came with a price to him however. The way he would remember the Doctor would forever be altered. He, like Lanyon, would take his knowledge of Mr Hyde to the grave. Mr Utterson finally grasped the true significance of Lanyon’s words, “What he told me in the next hour I cannot bring my mind to set on paper. I saw what I saw, I heard what I heard, and my soul sickened at it.”
Utterson understood that Hastie Lanyon could not bring himself to commit blasphemy against his oldest friend, not matter the role that this information had in sending him to his grave. Yet could Henry Jekyll?

Outside the light of the moon was softening as the early mornings light danced across London’s, soon to be misty, streets. This change of state went undetected by Mr Utterson’s eyes, which he had kept averted from the sheets of confessions, now he could not tear away. Mr Lanyon’s confession of knowledge was limited to what he had been told and seen himself.
“What had Jekyll professed to Lanyon making it so impossible to speak that he had to set it to paper?” Utterson thought as he raised the letter that Jekyll had addressed to him from its stagnant position beneath Lanyon’s letter. He did not however move to open the envelope and remove its contents.
Being not only a lawyer but a rational man Utterson began to weigh his options against each other. Would it be worth reading Jekyll’s small stack of papers folded into the envelope, or was it enough to have his confession given to Lanyon? If Utterson read Jekyll’s own confession his memory of his friend would forever be altered, he would never again be remembered by Mr. Utterson as his oldest friend Henry Jekyll. The memory would be transferred to one of Henry Jekyll, the creator of his alternate person. The creator of the monstrosity Edward Hyde. His dearest friend turned into a monster.
Yet if the lawyer left the letter on his office desk to have his assistant dispose of it in the morning, walk from the dimly lit room and return down the all too familiar street. Eventually reaching his own bed where he would attempt to sleep, Utterson knew that he would undoubtedly dream of the nights revelations. There was no way that the universe would now allow Utterson to escape the knowledge that he had been bequeathed on this night.

As the mist descended upon the street outside of Utterson’s office and the early morning light making its presence known Utterson still sat at his desk with the enveloped confession in his hands. Although morning had descended the soft, flickered light of the lamp still remained alight beside him as he came to his conclusion.
Utterson’s decision made, he flipped the envelope so that his own name faced the desk. Slipping the pen knife through the envelope he pulled upwards and with a sharp ripping through the forever resonating silence of the office he broke through the paper. This process repeated until Henry Jekyll’s confession was easily obtainable.
Setting the letter aside he proceeded to open the small glass door of the lamp. His hand hesitated momentarily as the warmth of the lamp’s flame flickered against his hesitation.
“Jekyll, I regret to admit that your admission has changed my view of you for the remainder of my own life, however long that may be,” the lawyer began to narrate though his words were not set onto paper. “It also pains me, my dear friend, that I had not the strength to read your own confession. I apologise but Lanyon’s word means much to me and I could not bare to think ill of you anymore so than Lanyon’s words have already ignited. The monstrosity that you created of yourself has been your end.
Gabriel John Utterson.”
With the conclusion of Utterson’s own letter he finally removed the stack of papers from the envelope. One by one he slipped a sheet of the admissions through the heated glass door of the lamp. Where the confessions caught alight, the light emitting from it momentarily illuminating the already morning bright room.
“What you willed to tell me through your death is now a mystery, Dr. Henry Jekyll.”