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A confession is a paper in which a person tells the truth about the wrong things he has done . Poole gave him a thick packet , sealed in several places . “ Say nothing about this , ” said Utterson . “ I must go home and read these papers . I shall be back before midnight , and then we shall send for the police . ” He walked back to his office . There he opened the two papers that were going to explain the mystery . IX . Dr Lanyon’s Story On the ninth of January , I received a registered letter from my old friend Henry Jekyll . A registered letter is one that the post office writes down in its books , so that it cannot be lost . This surprised me , because I had had dinner with him the night before . The letter said : “ Dear Lanyon , my life , my honour and my mind are all in your hands . Tonight , please go to my house . Poole will be waiting for you with a locksmith . Break open the door of my cabinet . Take the fourth drawer from the top in the glass cupboard marked E . Carry it home , exactly as it is . At midnight , be alone . A man will come in my name . Give him the drawer . If you do this , you will save me . If you do not , you will have seen the last of Henry Jekyll . ” I thought my friend was mad . But I did what he asked . At his house , the locksmith worked for two hours , and at last the cabinet door stood open . I found the drawer and brought it home . In it there were some powders , a small bottle and a notebook . The powders looked like a simple white salt . The bottle was half full of a blood - red liquid with a strong smell . The notebook was a list of dates from many years . Next to a few dates Jekyll had written a word , like “ double ” or “ total failure ! ! ! ” I understood very little . I sent my servants to bed , and I put a loaded gun in my pocket . At midnight someone knocked gently at the door . I found a small man there , bending low against the wall . “ Have you come from Dr Jekyll ? ” I asked . He nodded and hurried inside . In the bright light of my room , I saw him clearly . He was small , and his face had a shocking expression . He wore good clothes , but they were far too big for him . The trousers were rolled up , and the coat hung down far too low . And yet I did not want to laugh . There was something so wrong and unnatural about him that I felt cold near him . “ Have you got it ? ” he cried . “ Have you got it ? ” He put his hand on my arm , and his touch sent an icy pain through my blood . “ There it is , ” I said , and pointed to the drawer . He jumped towards it and gave a loud sob of relief . “ Have you got a measuring glass ? ” he asked .
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