A fortnight later, the firelight gleamed on the smart wines at Dr. Jekyll's residence. As guests departed, Utterson detained the doctor. Jekyll, a large, well-made man of fifty, smiled, though his eyes held a hidden strain. When Utterson broached the subject of Hyde and the will, the doctor's face grew pale. 'The moment I choose,' Jekyll whispered, clutching Utterson's arm, 'I can be rid of Mr. Hyde.'