‘‘Ah, that’s not Jekyll’s voice—it’s Hyde’s!’’ cried Utterson. ‘‘Down with the door, Poole.’’
Poole swung the axe over his shoulder; the blow shook the building, and the red baize door
leaped against the lock and hinges. A dismal screech, as of mere animal terror, rang from the
cabinet. Up went the axe again, and again the panels crashed and the frame bonded; four times
the blow fell; but the wood was tough and the fittings were of excellent workmanship; and it was
not until the fifth, that the lock burst in sunder and the wreck of the door fell inwards on the carpet.
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