1 The mysterious door
    Mr Utterson the lawyer was a quiet， serious man． Hewas shy with strangers and afraid of showing his feelings． Among friends， however， his eyes shone with kindnessand goodness．And， although this goodness never found itsway into his conversation， it showed itself in his way of life．He did not allow himself many enjoyable things in life． He ateand drank simply and， although he enjoyed the theatre，hehad not been to a play for twenty years． However， he wasgentler towards other men’ s weaknesses，and was alwaysready to help rather than blame them． As a lawyer， he was often the last good person that evil-doers met on their way toprison，or worse． These people often carried with them memories of his politeness and fairness．
    Mr Utterson's best friend was a distant cousin calledRichard Enfield，who was well known as a fun-loving ‘manabout town’．Nobody could understand why they werefriends， as they were different from each other in every way．They often took long walks together，however， marchingthrough the streets of London in companionable silence．
    One of these walks used to take them down a narrow sidestreet in a busy part of London． It was a clean， busy， friendlystreet with bright little shops and shiny doorknockers． Nearthe end of this street， however， stood a dark， mysterious，windowless building．The door had neither bell nor knockerand looked dusty and uncared for． Dirty children played fearlessly on the doorstep， and nobody ever opened the door todrive them away．
    One day，as Mr Enfield and his friend passed the building，Mr Enfield pointed to it．
    ‘Have you ever noticed that place？’he asked．‘It remindsme of a very strange story．’
    ‘Really？’said Mr Utterson．‘Tell me．’
    ‘Well，’began Enfield，‘I was coming home about threeo’clock on a black winter morning，when suddenly I saw twopeople．The first was a short man who was walking along thestreet，and the second was a little girl who was running as fastas she could． Well，the two bumped into each other and thechild fell down．Then a terrible thing happened．The mancalmly walked all over the child's body with his heavy boots，and left her screaming on the ground．It was an inhuman thingto do．I ran after the man， caught him and fetched him back．There was already a small crowd around the screaming child．The man was perfectly cool， but he gave me a very evil look，which made me feel sick in my stomach．The child's familythen arrived， and also a doctor． The child had been sent tofetch the doctor for a sick neighbour，and was on her wayhome again．
    ‘“The child is more frightened than hurt，”said thedoctor—and that， you would think， was the end of the story．But， you see，I had taken a violent dislike to the short man．So had the child's family—that was only natural．But the doctor， who seemed a quiet， kindly man， was also looking at ourprisoner with murder in his eyes．
    ‘The doctor and I understood each other perfectly．Together we shouted at the man， and told him we would tell this story all over London so that his name would be hated．
    ‘He looked back at us with a proud，blach look．“Nameyour price，”he said．