Poole swung the axe. The blow shook the building, and the door leapt against the lock. A dismal screech, as of mere animal terror, rang from the room. Up went the axe again, and at the fifth blow the lock burst and the wreck of the door fell inwards. The room was quiet. There was a fire burning, the kettle singing, and a drawer of papers open on the table. In the middle of the carpet lay the body of a man, sorely twisted and still twitching. They turned him on his back and saw the face of Edward Hyde. He was dressed in clothes far too large for him, the doctor's own clothes. In his hand was a crushed glass bottle, and the smell of bitter almonds hung in the air: he had killed himself. They searched the room for the body of Henry Jekyll, but there was no trace of him, living or dead. On the table lay a great envelope addressed to the lawyer, and inside it was a thick, sealed packet.