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The Invisible Man
By
H. G. Wells
Contents
CHAPTER
I - THE STRANGE MAN'S ARRIVAL
CHAPTER
II - MR. TEDDY HENFREY'S FIRST IMPRESSIONS.
CHAPTER
III - THE THOUSAND AND ONE BOTTLES.
CHAPTER
IV - MR. CUSS INTERVIEWS THE STRANGER.
CHAPTER
V - THE BURGLARY AT THE VICARAGE.
CHAPTER
VI - THE FURNITURE THAT WENT MAD..
CHAPTER
VII - THE UNVEILING OF THE STRANGER.
CHAPTER
IX - MR. THOMAS MARVEL
CHAPTER
X - MR. MARVEL'S VISIT TO IPING
CHAPTER
XI - IN THE "COACH AND HORSES".
CHAPTER
XII - THE INVISIBLE MAN LOSES HIS TEMPER.
CHAPTER
XIII- MR. MARVEL DISCUSSES HIS RESIGNATION..
CHAPTER
XV - THE MAN WHO WAS RUNNING
CHAPTER
XVI - IN THE "JOLLY CRICKETERS".
CHAPTER
XVII - DR. KEMP'S VISITOR
CHAPTER
XVIII - THE INVISIBLE MAN SLEEPS.
CHAPTER
XIX - CERTAIN FIRST PRINCIPLES
CHAPTER
XX - AT THE HOUSE IN GREAT PORTLAND STREET.
CHAPTER
XXI - IN OXFORD STREET
CHAPTER
XXII - IN THE EMPORIUM
CHAPTER
XXIV - THE PLAN THAT FAILED
CHAPTER
XXV - THE HUNTING OF THE INVISIBLE MAN..
CHAPTER
XXVI - THE WICKSTEED MURDER
CHAPTER
XXVII - THE SIEGE OF KEMP'S HOUSE.
CHAPTER
XXVIII - THE HUNTER HUNTED
CHAPTER I - THE STRANGE M=
AN'S
ARRIVAL
The stranger came early in February=
, one
wintry day, through a biting wind and a driving snow, the last snowfall of =
the
year, over the down, walking from Bramblehurst railway station, and carryin=
g a little
black portmanteau in his thickly gloved hand. He was wrapped up from head to
foot, and the brim of his soft felt hat hid every inch of his face but the
shiny tip of his nose; the snow had piled itself against his shoulders and
chest, and added a white crest to the burden he carried. He staggered into =
the
"Coach and Horses" more dead than alive, and flung his portmanteau
down. "A fire," he cried, "in the name of human charity! A r=
oom
and a fire!" He stamped and shook the snow from off himself in the bar,
and followed Mrs. Hall into her guest parlour to strike his bargain. And wi=
th
that much introduction, that and a couple of sovereigns flung upon the tabl=
e, he
took up his quarters in the inn.
Mrs. Hall lit the
fire and left him there while she went to prepare him a meal with her own
hands. A guest to stop at Iping in the wintertime was an unheard-of piece of
luck, let alone a guest who was no "haggler," and she was resolve=
d to
show herself worthy of her good fortune. As soon as the bacon was well under
way, and Millie, her lymphatic aid, had been brisked up a bit by a few deft=
ly
chosen expressions of contempt, she carried the cloth, plates, and glasses =
into
the parlour and began to lay them with the utmost eclat. Although the fire =
was
burning up briskly, she was surprised to see that her visitor still wore his
hat and coat, standing with his back to her and staring out of the window at
the falling snow in the yard. His gloved hands were clasped behind him, and=
he
seemed to be lost in thought. She noticed that the melting snow that still
sprinkled his shoulders dripped upon her carpet. "Can I take your hat =
and
coat, sir?" she said, "and give them a good dry in the kitchen?&q=
uot;
"No," he
said without turning.
She was not sure =
she
had heard him, and was about to repeat her question.
He turned his head
and looked at her over his shoulder. "I prefer to keep them on," =
he
said with emphasis, and she noticed that he wore big blue spectacles with
sidelights, and had a bush side-whisker over his coat-collar that completely
hid his cheeks and face.
"Very well,
sir," she said. "As you like. In a bit the room will be warmer.&q=
uot;
He made no answer,
and had turned his face away from her again, and Mrs. Hall, feeling that her
conversational advances were ill-timed, laid the rest of the table things i=
n a
quick staccato and whisked out of the room. When she returned he was still
standing there, like a man of stone, his back hunched, his collar turned up,
his dripping hat-brim turned down, hiding his face and ears completely. She=
put
down the eggs and bacon with considerable emphasis, and called rather than =
said
to him, "Your lunch is served, sir."
"Thank
you," he said at the same time, and did not stir until she was closing=
the
door. Then he swung round and approached the table with a certain eager
quickness.
As she went behind
the bar to the kitchen she heard a sound repeated at regular intervals. Chi=
rk,
chirk, chirk, it went, the sound of a spoon being rapidly whisked round a
basin. "That girl!" she said. "There! I clean forgot it. It's
her being so long!" And while she herself finished mixing the mustard,=
she
gave Millie a few verbal stabs for her excessive slowness. She had cooked t=
he
ham and eggs, laid the table, and done everything, while Millie (help indee=
d!)
had only succeeded in delaying the mustard. And him a new guest and wanting=
to
stay! Then she filled the mustard pot, and, putting it with a certain
stateliness upon a gold and black tea-tray, carried it into the parlour.
She rapped and
entered promptly. As she did so her visitor moved quickly, so that she got =
but
a glimpse of a white object disappearing behind the table. It would seem he=
was
picking something from the floor. She rapped down the mustard pot on the ta=
ble,
and then she noticed the overcoat and hat had been taken off and put over a
chair in front of the fire, and a pair of wet boots threatened rust to her =
steel
fender. She went to these things resolutely. "I suppose I may have the=
m to
dry now," she said in a voice that brooked no denial.
"Leave the
hat," said her visitor, in a muffled voice, and turning she saw he had
raised his head and was sitting and looking at her.
For a moment she
stood gaping at him, too surprised to speak.
He held a white
cloth--it was a serviette he had brought with him--over the lower part of h=
is
face, so that his mouth and jaws were completely hidden, and that was the
reason of his muffled voice. But it was not that which startled Mrs. Hall. =
It
was the fact that all his forehead above his blue glasses was covered by a
white bandage, and that another covered his ears, leaving not a scrap of his
face exposed excepting only his pink, peaked nose. It was bright, pink, and
shiny just as it had been at first. He wore a dark-brown velvet jacket with=
a
high, black, linen-lined collar turned up about his neck. The thick black h=
air,
escaping as it could below and between the cross bandages, projected in cur=
ious
tails and horns, giving him the strangest appearance conceivable. This muff=
led
and bandaged head was so unlike what she had anticipated, that for a moment=
she
was rigid.
He did not remove=
the
serviette, but remained holding it, as she saw now, with a brown gloved han=
d,
and regarding her with his inscrutable blue glasses. "Leave the hat,&q=
uot;
he said, speaking very distinctly through the white cloth.
Her nerves began =
to
recover from the shock they had received. She placed the hat on the chair a=
gain
by the fire. "I didn't know, sir," she began, "that--" =
and
she stopped embarrassed.
"Thank
you," he said drily, glancing from her to the door and then at her aga=
in.
"I'll have t=
hem
nicely dried, sir, at once," she said, and carried his clothes out of =
the
room. She glanced at his white-swathed head and blue goggles again as she w=
as
going out of the door; but his napkin was still in front of his face. She
shivered a little as she closed the door behind her, and her face was eloqu=
ent
of her surprise and perplexity. "I never," she whispered.
"There!" She went quite softly to the kitchen, and was too preocc=
upied
to ask Millie what she was messing about with now, when she got there.
The visitor sat a=
nd
listened to her retreating feet. He glanced inquiringly at the window befor=
e he
removed his serviette, and resumed his meal. He took a mouthful, glanced su=
spiciously
at the window, took another mouthful, then rose and, taking the serviette in
his hand, walked across the room and pulled the blind down to the top of the
white muslin that obscured the lower panes. This left the room in a twiligh=
t.
This done, he returned with an easier air to the table and his meal.
"The poor so=
ul's
had an accident or an op'ration or somethin'," said Mrs. Hall. "W=
hat
a turn them bandages did give me, to be sure!"
She put on some m=
ore
coal, unfolded the clothes-horse, and extended the traveller's coat upon th=
is.
"And they goggles! Why, he looked more like a divin' helmet than a hum=
an
man!" She hung his muffler on a corner of the horse. "And holding
that handkerchief over his mouth all the time. Talkin' through it! ... Perh=
aps
his mouth was hurt too--maybe."
She turned round,=
as
one who suddenly remembers. "Bless my soul alive!" she said, going
off at a tangent; "ain't you done them taters yet, Millie?"
When Mrs. Hall we=
nt
to clear away the stranger's lunch, her idea that his mouth must also have =
been
cut or disfigured in the accident she supposed him to have suffered, was
confirmed, for he was smoking a pipe, and all the time that she was in the =
room
he never loosened the silk muffler he had wrapped round the lower part of h=
is
face to put the mouthpiece to his lips. Yet it was not forgetfulness, for s=
he
saw he glanced at it as it smouldered out. He sat in the corner with his ba=
ck
to the window-blind and spoke now, having eaten and drunk and being comfort=
ably
warmed through, with less aggressive brevity than before. The reflection of=
the
fire lent a kind of red animation to his big spectacles they had lacked
hitherto.
"I have some
luggage," he said, "at Bramblehurst station," and he asked h=
er
how he could have it sent. He bowed his bandaged head quite politely in
acknowledgment of her explanation. "To-morrow?" he said. "Th=
ere
is no speedier delivery?" and seemed quite disappointed when she answe=
red,
"No." Was she quite sure? No man with a trap who would go over?
Mrs. Hall, nothin=
g loath,
answered his questions and developed a conversation. "It's a steep roa=
d by
the down, sir," she said in answer to the question about a trap; and t=
hen,
snatching at an opening, said, "It was there a carriage was upsettled,=
a
year ago and more. A gentleman killed, besides his coachman. Accidents, sir=
, happen
in a moment, don't they?"
But the visitor w=
as
not to be drawn so easily. "They do," he said through his muffler,
eyeing her quietly through his impenetrable glasses.
"But they ta=
ke
long enough to get well, don't they? ... There was my sister's son, Tom, je=
st
cut his arm with a scythe, tumbled on it in the 'ayfield, and, bless me! he=
was
three months tied up sir. You'd hardly believe it. It's regular given me a
dread of a scythe, sir."
"I can quite=
understand
that," said the visitor.
"He was afra= id, one time, that he'd have to have an op'ration--he was that bad, sir."<= o:p>
The visitor laugh=
ed
abruptly, a bark of a laugh that he seemed to bite and kill in his mouth.
"Was he?" he said.
"He was, sir.
And no laughing matter to them as had the doing for him, as I had--my sister
being took up with her little ones so much. There was bandages to do, sir, =
and
bandages to undo. So that if I may make so bold as to say it, sir--"
"Will you ge=
t me
some matches?" said the visitor, quite abruptly. "My pipe is
out."
Mrs. Hall was pul=
led
up suddenly. It was certainly rude of him, after telling him all she had do=
ne.
She gasped at him for a moment, and remembered the two sovereigns. She went=
for
the matches.
"Thanks,&quo=
t; he
said concisely, as she put them down, and turned his shoulder upon her and
stared out of the window again. It was altogether too discouraging. Evident=
ly
he was sensitive on the topic of operations and bandages. She did not
"make so bold as to say," however, after all. But his snubbing way
had irritated her, and Millie had a hot time of it that afternoon.
The visitor remai=
ned
in the parlour until four o'clock, without giving the ghost of an excuse fo=
r an
intrusion. For the most part he was quite still during that time; it would =
seem
he sat in the growing darkness smoking in the firelight--perhaps dozing.
Once or twice a
curious listener might have heard him at the coals, and for the space of fi=
ve
minutes he was audible pacing the room. He seemed to be talking to himself.
Then the armchair creaked as he sat down again.
CHAPTER II - MR. TEDDY
HENFREY'S FIRST IMPRESSIONS
At four o'clock, when it was fairly=
dark
and Mrs. Hall was screwing up her courage to go in and ask her visitor if he
would take some tea, Teddy Henfrey, the clock-jobber, came into the bar.
"My sakes! Mrs. Hall," said he, "but this is terrible weather
for thin boots!" The snow outside was falling faster.
Mrs. Hall agreed,=
and
then noticed he had his bag with him. "Now you're here, Mr. Teddy,&quo=
t;
said she, "I'd be glad if you'd give th' old clock in the parlour a bi=
t of
a look. 'Tis going, and it strikes well and hearty; but the hour-hand won't=
do
nuthin' but point at six."
And leading the w=
ay,
she went across to the parlour door and rapped and entered.
Her visitor, she =
saw
as she opened the door, was seated in the armchair before the fire, dozing =
it
would seem, with his bandaged head drooping on one side. The only light in =
the
room was the red glow from the fire--which lit his eyes like adverse railway
signals, but left his downcast face in darkness--and the scanty vestiges of=
the
day that came in through the open door. Everything was ruddy, shadowy, and
indistinct to her, the more so since she had just been lighting the bar lam=
p,
and her eyes were dazzled. But for a second it seemed to her that the man s=
he
looked at had an enormous mouth wide open--a vast and incredible mouth that
swallowed the whole of the lower portion of his face. It was the sensation =
of a
moment: the white-bound head, the monstrous goggle eyes, and this huge yawn=
below
it. Then he stirred, started up in his chair, put up his hand. She opened t=
he
door wide, so that the room was lighter, and she saw him more clearly, with=
the
muffler held up to his face just as she had seen him hold the serviette bef=
ore.
The shadows, she fancied, had tricked her.
"Would you m=
ind,
sir, this man a-coming to look at the clock, sir?" she said, recovering
from the momentary shock.
"Look at the
clock?" he said, staring round in a drowsy manner, and speaking over h=
is
hand, and then, getting more fully awake, "certainly."
Mrs. Hall went aw=
ay
to get a lamp, and he rose and stretched himself. Then came the light, and =
Mr.
Teddy Henfrey, entering, was confronted by this bandaged person. He was, he=
says,
"taken aback."
"Good
afternoon," said the stranger, regarding him--as Mr. Henfrey says, wit=
h a
vivid sense of the dark spectacles--"like a lobster."
"I hope,&quo=
t;
said Mr. Henfrey, "that it's no intrusion."
"None
whatever," said the stranger. "Though, I understand," he sai=
d turning
to Mrs. Hall, "that this room is really to be mine for my own private
use."
"I thought,
sir," said Mrs. Hall, "you'd prefer the clock--"
"Certainly,&=
quot;
said the stranger, "certainly--but, as a rule, I like to be alone and
undisturbed.
"But I'm rea=
lly
glad to have the clock seen to," he said, seeing a certain hesitation =
in
Mr. Henfrey's manner. "Very glad." Mr. Henfrey had intended to
apologise and withdraw, but this anticipation reassured him. The stranger
turned round with his back to the fireplace and put his hands behind his ba=
ck.
"And presently," he said, "when the clock-mending is over, I
think I should like to have some tea. But not till the clock-mending is
over."
Mrs. Hall was abo=
ut
to leave the room--she made no conversational advances this time, because s=
he
did not want to be snubbed in front of Mr. Henfrey--when her visitor asked =
her
if she had made any arrangements about his boxes at Bramblehurst. She told =
him
she had mentioned the matter to the postman, and that the carrier could bri=
ng
them over on the morrow. "You are certain that is the earliest?" =
he
said.
She was certain, =
with
a marked coldness.
"I should
explain," he added, "what I was really too cold and fatigued to do
before, that I am an experimental investigator."
"Indeed,
sir," said Mrs. Hall, much impressed.
"And my bagg=
age
contains apparatus and appliances."
"Very useful
things indeed they are, sir," said Mrs. Hall.
"And I'm very
naturally anxious to get on with my inquiries."
"Of course,
sir."
"My reason f=
or
coming to Iping," he proceeded, with a certain deliberation of manner,
"was ... a desire for solitude. I do not wish to be disturbed in my wo=
rk.
In addition to my work, an accident--"
"I thought as
much," said Mrs. Hall to herself.
"--necessita=
tes
a certain retirement. My eyes--are sometimes so weak and painful that I hav=
e to
shut myself up in the dark for hours together. Lock myself up. Sometimes--n=
ow
and then. Not at present, certainly. At such times the slightest disturbanc=
e,
the entry of a stranger into the room, is a source of excruciating annoyanc=
e to
me--it is well these things should be understood."
"Certainly,
sir," said Mrs. Hall. "And if I might make so bold as to ask--&qu=
ot;
"That I thin=
k,
is all," said the stranger, with that quietly irresistible air of fina=
lity
he could assume at will. Mrs. Hall reserved her question and sympathy for a
better occasion.
After Mrs. Hall h=
ad
left the room, he remained standing in front of the fire, glaring, so Mr.
Henfrey puts it, at the clock-mending. Mr. Henfrey not only took off the ha=
nds
of the clock, and the face, but extracted the works; and he tried to work i=
n as
slow and quiet and unassuming a manner as possible. He worked with the lamp
close to him, and the green shade threw a brilliant light upon his hands, a=
nd
upon the frame and wheels, and left the rest of the room shadowy. When he
looked up, coloured patches swam in his eyes. Being constitutionally of a
curious nature, he had removed the works--a quite unnecessary proceeding--w=
ith
the idea of delaying his departure and perhaps falling into conversation wi=
th
the stranger. But the stranger stood there, perfectly silent and still. So
still, it got on Henfrey's nerves. He felt alone in the room and looked up,=
and
there, grey and dim, was the bandaged head and huge blue lenses staring
fixedly, with a mist of green spots drifting in front of them. It was so
uncanny to Henfrey that for a minute they remained staring blankly at one
another. Then Henfrey looked down again. Very uncomfortable position! One w=
ould
like to say something. Should he remark that the weather was very cold for =
the
time of year?
He looked up as i=
f to
take aim with that introductory shot. "The weather--" he began.
"Why don't y=
ou
finish and go?" said the rigid figure, evidently in a state of painful=
ly
suppressed rage. "All you've got to do is to fix the hour-hand on its
axle. You're simply humbugging--"
"Certainly,
sir--one minute more. I overlooked--" and Mr. Henfrey finished and wen=
t.
But he went feeli=
ng
excessively annoyed. "Damn it!" said Mr. Henfrey to himself, trud=
ging
down the village through the thawing snow; "a man must do a clock at
times, sure-ly."
And again "C=
an't
a man look at you?--Ugly!"
And yet again,
"Seemingly not. If the police was wanting you you couldn't be more wro=
pped
and bandaged."
At Gleeson's corn=
er
he saw Hall, who had recently married the stranger's hostess at the "C=
oach
and Horses," and who now drove the Iping conveyance, when occasional
people required it, to Sidderbridge Junction, coming towards him on his ret=
urn
from that place. Hall had evidently been "stopping a bit" at
Sidderbridge, to judge by his driving. "'Ow do, Teddy?" he said,
passing.
"You got a r=
um
un up home!" said Teddy.
Hall very sociably
pulled up. "What's that?" he asked.
"Rum-looking
customer stopping at the 'Coach and Horses,'" said Teddy. "My
sakes!"
And he proceeded =
to
give Hall a vivid description of his grotesque guest. "Looks a bit lik=
e a
disguise, don't it? I'd like to see a man's face if I had him stopping in my
place," said Henfrey. "But women are that trustful--where strange=
rs
are concerned. He's took your rooms and he ain't even given a name, Hall.&q=
uot;
"You don't s=
ay
so!" said Hall, who was a man of sluggish apprehension.
"Yes," =
said
Teddy. "By the week. Whatever he is, you can't get rid of him under the
week. And he's got a lot of luggage coming to-morrow, so he says. Let's hop=
e it
won't be stones in boxes, Hall."
He told Hall how =
his
aunt at Hastings had been swindled by a stranger with empty portmanteaux.
Altogether he left Hall vaguely suspicious. "Get up, old girl," s=
aid
Hall. "I s'pose I must see 'bout this."
Teddy trudged on =
his
way with his mind considerably relieved.
Instead of
"seeing 'bout it," however, Hall on his return was severely rated=
by
his wife on the length of time he had spent in Sidderbridge, and his mild
inquiries were answered snappishly and in a manner not to the point. But the
seed of suspicion Teddy had sown germinated in the mind of Mr. Hall in spit=
e of
these discouragements. "You wim' don't know everything," said Mr.
Hall, resolved to ascertain more about the personality of his guest at the
earliest possible opportunity. And after the stranger had gone to bed, whic=
h he
did about half-past nine, Mr. Hall went very aggressively into the parlour =
and
looked very hard at his wife's furniture, just to show that the stranger wa=
sn't
master there, and scrutinised closely and a little contemptuously a sheet o=
f mathematical
computations the stranger had left. When retiring for the night he instruct=
ed
Mrs. Hall to look very closely at the stranger's luggage when it came next =
day.
"You mind you
own business, Hall," said Mrs. Hall, "and I'll mind mine."
She was all the m=
ore
inclined to snap at Hall because the stranger was undoubtedly an unusually
strange sort of stranger, and she was by no means assured about him in her =
own
mind. In the middle of the night she woke up dreaming of huge white heads l=
ike
turnips, that came trailing after her, at the end of interminable necks, and
with vast black eyes. But being a sensible woman, she subdued her terrors a=
nd
turned over and went to sleep again.
CHAPTER III - THE THOUSAND
AND ONE BOTTLES
So it was that on the twenty-ninth =
day of
February, at the beginning of the thaw, this singular person fell out of
infinity into Iping village. Next day his luggage arrived through the
slush--and very remarkable luggage it was. There were a couple of trunks
indeed, such as a rational man might need, but in addition there were a box=
of
books--big, fat books, of which some were just in an incomprehensible
handwriting--and a dozen or more crates, boxes, and cases, containing objec=
ts
packed in straw, as it seemed to Hall, tugging with a casual curiosity at t=
he
straw--glass bottles. The stranger, muffled in hat, coat, gloves, and wrapp=
er,
came out impatiently to meet Fearenside's cart, while Hall was having a wor=
d or
so of gossip preparatory to helping being them in. Out he came, not noticing
Fearenside's dog, who was sniffing in a dilettante spirit at Hall's legs.
"Come along with those boxes," he said. "I've been waiting l=
ong
enough."
And he came down =
the
steps towards the tail of the cart as if to lay hands on the smaller crate.=
No sooner had
Fearenside's dog caught sight of him, however, than it began to bristle and
growl savagely, and when he rushed down the steps it gave an undecided hop,=
and
then sprang straight at his hand. "Whup!" cried Hall, jumping bac=
k,
for he was no hero with dogs, and Fearenside howled, "Lie down!" =
and
snatched his whip.
They saw the dog's
teeth had slipped the hand, heard a kick, saw the dog execute a flanking ju=
mp
and get home on the stranger's leg, and heard the rip of his trousering. Th=
en
the finer end of Fearenside's whip reached his property, and the dog, yelpi=
ng
with dismay, retreated under the wheels of the waggon. It was all the busin=
ess
of a swift half-minute. No one spoke, everyone shouted. The stranger glanced
swiftly at his torn glove and at his leg, made as if he would stoop to the
latter, then turned and rushed swiftly up the steps into the inn. They heard
him go headlong across the passage and up the uncarpeted stairs to his bedr=
oom.
"You brute,
you!" said Fearenside, climbing off the waggon with his whip in his ha=
nd,
while the dog watched him through the wheel. "Come here," said
Fearenside--"You'd better."
Hall had stood
gaping. "He wuz bit," said Hall. "I'd better go and see to
en," and he trotted after the stranger. He met Mrs. Hall in the passag=
e.
"Carrier's darg," he said "bit en."
He went straight
upstairs, and the stranger's door being ajar, he pushed it open and was
entering without any ceremony, being of a naturally sympathetic turn of min=
d.
The blind was down
and the room dim. He caught a glimpse of a most singular thing, what seemed=
a
handless arm waving towards him, and a face of three huge indeterminate spo=
ts
on white, very like the face of a pale pansy. Then he was struck violently =
in
the chest, hurled back, and the door slammed in his face and locked. It was=
so rapid
that it gave him no time to observe. A waving of indecipherable shapes, a b=
low,
and a concussion. There he stood on the dark little landing, wondering what=
it
might be that he had seen.
A couple of minut=
es
after, he rejoined the little group that had formed outside the "Coach=
and
Horses." There was Fearenside telling about it all over again for the
second time; there was Mrs. Hall saying his dog didn't have no business to =
bite
her guests; there was Huxter, the general dealer from over the road,
interrogative; and Sandy Wadgers from the forge, judicial; besides women an=
d children,
all of them saying fatuities: "Wouldn't let en bite me, I knows";
"'Tasn't right have such dargs"; "Whad 'e bite 'n for,
than?" and so forth.
Mr. Hall, staring=
at
them from the steps and listening, found it incredible that he had seen any=
thing
so very remarkable happen upstairs. Besides, his vocabulary was altogether =
too
limited to express his impressions.
"He don't wa=
nt
no help, he says," he said in answer to his wife's inquiry. "We'd
better be a-takin' of his luggage in."
"He ought to
have it cauterised at once," said Mr. Huxter; "especially if it's=
at
all inflamed."
"I'd shoot e=
n,
that's what I'd do," said a lady in the group.
Suddenly the dog
began growling again.
"Come
along," cried an angry voice in the doorway, and there stood the muffl=
ed
stranger with his collar turned up, and his hat-brim bent down. "The
sooner you get those things in the better I'll be pleased." It is stat=
ed
by an anonymous bystander that his trousers and gloves had been changed.
"Was you hur=
t,
sir?" said Fearenside. "I'm rare sorry the darg--"
"Not a
bit," said the stranger. "Never broke the skin. Hurry up with tho=
se
things."
He then swore to
himself, so Mr. Hall asserts.
Directly the first
crate was, in accordance with his directions, carried into the parlour, the
stranger flung himself upon it with extraordinary eagerness, and began to
unpack it, scattering the straw with an utter disregard of Mrs. Hall's carp=
et.
And from it he began to produce bottles--little fat bottles containing powd=
ers,
small and slender bottles containing coloured and white fluids, fluted blue
bottles labeled Poison, bottles with round bodies and slender necks, large
green-glass bottles, large white-glass bottles, bottles with glass stoppers=
and
frosted labels, bottles with fine corks, bottles with bungs, bottles with
wooden caps, wine bottles, salad-oil bottles--putting them in rows on the
chiffonnier, on the mantel, on the table under the window, round the floor,=
on
the bookshelf--everywhere. The chemist's shop in Bramblehurst could not boa=
st
half so many. Quite a sight it was. Crate after crate yielded bottles, until
all six were empty and the table high with straw; the only things that came=
out
of these crates besides the bottles were a number of test-tubes and a caref=
ully
packed balance.
And directly the
crates were unpacked, the stranger went to the window and set to work, not
troubling in the least about the litter of straw, the fire which had gone o=
ut,
the box of books outside, nor for the trunks and other luggage that had gone
upstairs.
When Mrs. Hall to=
ok
his dinner in to him, he was already so absorbed in his work, pouring little
drops out of the bottles into test-tubes, that he did not hear her until she
had swept away the bulk of the straw and put the tray on the table, with so=
me
little emphasis perhaps, seeing the state that the floor was in. Then he ha=
lf
turned his head and immediately turned it away again. But she saw he had
removed his glasses; they were beside him on the table, and it seemed to her
that his eye sockets were extraordinarily hollow. He put on his spectacles
again, and then turned and faced her. She was about to complain of the stra=
w on
the floor when he anticipated her.
"I wish you
wouldn't come in without knocking," he said in the tone of abnormal ex=
asperation
that seemed so characteristic of him.
"I knocked, =
but
seemingly--"
"Perhaps you
did. But in my investigations--my really very urgent and necessary
investigations--the slightest disturbance, the jar of a door--I must ask
you--"
"Certainly, =
sir.
You can turn the lock if you're like that, you know. Any time."
"A very good
idea," said the stranger.
"This stror,
sir, if I might make so bold as to remark--"
"Don't. If t=
he
straw makes trouble put it down in the bill." And he mumbled at her--w=
ords
suspiciously like curses.
He was so odd, standing there, so aggressive and explosive, bottle in one hand and test-tu= be in the other, that Mrs. Hall was quite alarmed. But she was a resolute woma= n. "In which case, I should like to know, sir, what you consider--"<= o:p>
"A shilling-=
-put
down a shilling. Surely a shilling's enough?"
"So be it,&q=
uot;
said Mrs. Hall, taking up the table-cloth and beginning to spread it over t=
he
table. "If you're satisfied, of course--"
He turned and sat
down, with his coat-collar toward her.
All the afternoon=
he
worked with the door locked and, as Mrs. Hall testifies, for the most part =
in
silence. But once there was a concussion and a sound of bottles ringing
together as though the table had been hit, and the smash of a bottle flung
violently down, and then a rapid pacing athwart the room. Fearing
"something was the matter," she went to the door and listened, not
caring to knock.
"I can't go
on," he was raving. "I can't go on. Three hundred thousand, four
hundred thousand! The huge multitude! Cheated! All my life it may take me! =
...
Patience! Patience indeed! ... Fool! fool!"
There was a noise=
of
hobnails on the bricks in the bar, and Mrs. Hall had very reluctantly to le=
ave
the rest of his soliloquy. When she returned the room was silent again, save
for the faint crepitation of his chair and the occasional clink of a bottle=
. It
was all over; the stranger had resumed work.
When she took in =
his
tea she saw broken glass in the corner of the room under the concave mirror,
and a golden stain that had been carelessly wiped. She called attention to =
it.
"Put it down=
in
the bill," snapped her visitor. "For God's sake don't worry me. If
there's damage done, put it down in the bill," and he went on ticking a
list in the exercise book before him.
"I'll tell y=
ou
something," said Fearenside, mysteriously. It was late in the afternoo=
n,
and they were in the little beer-shop of Iping Hanger.
"Well?"
said Teddy Henfrey.
"This chap
you're speaking of, what my dog bit. Well--he's black. Leastways, his legs =
are.
I seed through the tear of his trousers and the tear of his glove. You'd ha=
ve
expected a sort of pinky to show, wouldn't you? Well--there wasn't none. Ju=
st
blackness. I tell you, he's as black as my hat."
"My sakes!&q=
uot;
said Henfrey. "It's a rummy case altogether. Why, his nose is as pink =
as
paint!"
"That's
true," said Fearenside. "I knows that. And I tell 'ee what I'm
thinking. That marn's a piebald, Teddy. Black here and white there--in patc=
hes.
And he's ashamed of it. He's a kind of half-breed, and the colour's come off
patchy instead of mixing. I've heard of such things before. And it's the co=
mmon
way with horses, as any one can see."
CHAPTER IV - MR. CUSS
INTERVIEWS THE STRANGER
I have told the circumstances of the
stranger's arrival in Iping with a certain fulness of detail, in order that=
the
curious impression he created may be understood by the reader. But excepting
two odd incidents, the circumstances of his stay until the extraordinary da=
y of
the club festival may be passed over very cursorily. There were a number of
skirmishes with Mrs. Hall on matters of domestic discipline, but in every c=
ase
until late April, when the first signs of penury began, he over-rode her by=
the
easy expedient of an extra payment. Hall did not like him, and whenever he
dared he talked of the advisability of getting rid of him; but he showed his
dislike chiefly by concealing it ostentatiously, and avoiding his visitor as
much as possible. "Wait till the summer," said Mrs. Hall sagely,
"when the artisks are beginning to come. Then we'll see. He may be a b=
it
overbearing, but bills settled punctual is bills settled punctual, whatever
you'd like to say."
The stranger did =
not
go to church, and indeed made no difference between Sunday and the irreligi=
ous
days, even in costume. He worked, as Mrs. Hall thought, very fitfully. Some
days he would come down early and be continuously busy. On others he would =
rise
late, pace his room, fretting audibly for hours together, smoke, sleep in t=
he
armchair by the fire. Communication with the world beyond the village he had
none. His temper continued very uncertain; for the most part his manner was
that of a man suffering under almost unendurable provocation, and once or t=
wice
things were snapped, torn, crushed, or broken in spasmodic gusts of violenc=
e. He
seemed under a chronic irritation of the greatest intensity. His habit of
talking to himself in a low voice grew steadily upon him, but though Mrs. H=
all
listened conscientiously she could make neither head nor tail of what she
heard.
He rarely went ab=
road
by daylight, but at twilight he would go out muffled up invisibly, whether =
the
weather were cold or not, and he chose the loneliest paths and those most
overshadowed by trees and banks. His goggling spectacles and ghastly bandag=
ed
face under the penthouse of his hat, came with a disagreeable suddenness ou=
t of
the darkness upon one or two home-going labourers, and Teddy Henfrey, tumbl=
ing
out of the "Scarlet Coat" one night, at half-past nine, was scared
shamefully by the stranger's skull-like head (he was walking hat in hand) l=
it
by the sudden light of the opened inn door. Such children as saw him at
nightfall dreamt of bogies, and it seemed doubtful whether he disliked boys
more than they disliked him, or the reverse; but there was certainly a vivid
enough dislike on either side.
It was inevitable
that a person of so remarkable an appearance and bearing should form a freq=
uent
topic in such a village as Iping. Opinion was greatly divided about his
occupation. Mrs. Hall was sensitive on the point. When questioned, she
explained very carefully that he was an "experimental investigator,&qu=
ot;
going gingerly over the syllables as one who dreads pitfalls. When asked wh=
at
an experimental investigator was, she would say with a touch of superiority
that most educated people knew such things as that, and would thus explain =
that
he "discovered things." Her visitor had had an accident, she said,
which temporarily discoloured his face and hands, and being of a sensitive
disposition, he was averse to any public notice of the fact.
Out of her hearing
there was a view largely entertained that he was a criminal trying to escape
from justice by wrapping himself up so as to conceal himself altogether from
the eye of the police. This idea sprang from the brain of Mr. Teddy Henfrey=
. No
crime of any magnitude dating from the middle or end of February was known =
to have
occurred. Elaborated in the imagination of Mr. Gould, the probationary
assistant in the National School, this theory took the form that the strang=
er
was an Anarchist in disguise, preparing explosives, and he resolved to
undertake such detective operations as his time permitted. These consisted =
for
the most part in looking very hard at the stranger whenever they met, or in
asking people who had never seen the stranger, leading questions about him.=
But
he detected nothing.
Another school of
opinion followed Mr. Fearenside, and either accepted the piebald view or so=
me
modification of it; as, for instance, Silas Durgan, who was heard to assert
that "if he choses to show enself at fairs he'd make his fortune in no
time," and being a bit of a theologian, compared the stranger to the m=
an
with the one talent. Yet another view explained the entire matter by regard=
ing
the stranger as a harmless lunatic. That had the advantage of accounting for
everything straight away.
Between these main
groups there were waverers and compromisers. Sussex folk have few
superstitions, and it was only after the events of early April that the tho=
ught
of the supernatural was first whispered in the village. Even then it was on=
ly
credited among the women folk.
But whatever they
thought of him, people in Iping, on the whole, agreed in disliking him. His
irritability, though it might have been comprehensible to an urban
brain-worker, was an amazing thing to these quiet Sussex villagers. The fra=
ntic
gesticulations they surprised now and then, the headlong pace after nightfa=
ll
that swept him upon them round quiet corners, the inhuman bludgeoning of all
tentative advances of curiosity, the taste for twilight that led to the clo=
sing
of doors, the pulling down of blinds, the extinction of candles and lamps--=
who
could agree with such goings on? They drew aside as he passed down the vill=
age,
and when he had gone by, young humourists would up with coat-collars and do=
wn
with hat-brims, and go pacing nervously after him in imitation of his occult
bearing. There was a song popular at that time called "The Bogey
Man". Miss Statchell sang it at the schoolroom concert (in aid of the
church lamps), and thereafter whenever one or two of the villagers were
gathered together and the stranger appeared, a bar or so of this tune, more=
or
less sharp or flat, was whistled in the midst of them. Also belated little
children would call "Bogey Man!" after him, and make off tremulou=
sly
elated.
Cuss, the general
practitioner, was devoured by curiosity. The bandages excited his professio=
nal
interest, the report of the thousand and one bottles aroused his jealous
regard. All through April and May he coveted an opportunity of talking to t=
he
stranger, and at last, towards Whitsuntide, he could stand it no longer, bu=
t hit
upon the subscription-list for a village nurse as an excuse. He was surpris=
ed
to find that Mr. Hall did not know his guest's name. "He give a
name," said Mrs. Hall--an assertion which was quite unfounded--"b=
ut I
didn't rightly hear it." She thought it seemed so silly not to know the
man's name.
Cuss rapped at the
parlour door and entered. There was a fairly audible imprecation from withi=
n.
"Pardon my intrusion," said Cuss, and then the door closed and cut
Mrs. Hall off from the rest of the conversation.
She could hear the
murmur of voices for the next ten minutes, then a cry of surprise, a stirri=
ng
of feet, a chair flung aside, a bark of laughter, quick steps to the door, =
and
Cuss appeared, his face white, his eyes staring over his shoulder. He left =
the
door open behind him, and without looking at her strode across the hall and=
went
down the steps, and she heard his feet hurrying along the road. He carried =
his
hat in his hand. She stood behind the door, looking at the open door of the
parlour. Then she heard the stranger laughing quietly, and then his footste=
ps
came across the room. She could not see his face where she stood. The parlo=
ur
door slammed, and the place was silent again.
Cuss went straigh=
t up
the village to Bunting the vicar. "Am I mad?" Cuss began abruptly=
, as
he entered the shabby little study. "Do I look like an insane
person?"
"What's
happened?" said the vicar, putting the ammonite on the loose sheets of=
his
forth-coming sermon.
"That chap at
the inn--"
"Well?"=
"Give me
something to drink," said Cuss, and he sat down.
When his nerves h=
ad
been steadied by a glass of cheap sherry--the only drink the good vicar had
available--he told him of the interview he had just had. "Went in,&quo=
t;
he gasped, "and began to demand a subscription for that Nurse Fund. He=
'd
stuck his hands in his pockets as I came in, and he sat down lumpily in his
chair. Sniffed. I told him I'd heard he took an interest in scientific thin=
gs.
He said yes. Sniffed again. Kept on sniffing all the time; evidently recent=
ly
caught an infernal cold. No wonder, wrapped up like that! I developed the n=
urse
idea, and all the while kept my eyes open. Bottles--chemicals--everywhere.
Balance, test-tubes in stands, and a smell of--evening primrose. Would he
subscribe? Said he'd consider it. Asked him, point-blank, was he researchin=
g. Said
he was. A long research? Got quite cross. 'A damnable long research,' said =
he,
blowing the cork out, so to speak. 'Oh,' said I. And out came the grievance.
The man was just on the boil, and my question boiled him over. He had been
given a prescription, most valuable prescription--what for he wouldn't say.=
Was
it medical? 'Damn you! What are you fishing after?' I apologised. Dignified=
sniff
and cough. He resumed. He'd read it. Five ingredients. Put it down; turned =
his
head. Draught of air from window lifted the paper. Swish, rustle. He was
working in a room with an open fireplace, he said. Saw a flicker, and there=
was
the prescription burning and lifting chimneyward. Rushed towards it just as=
it
whisked up the chimney. So! Just at that point, to illustrate his story, out
came his arm."
"Well?"=
"No hand--ju=
st
an empty sleeve. Lord! I thought, that's a deformity! Got a cork arm, I
suppose, and has taken it off. Then, I thought, there's something odd in th=
at.
What the devil keeps that sleeve up and open, if there's nothing in it? The=
re
was nothing in it, I tell you. Nothing down it, right down to the joint. I
could see right down it to the elbow, and there was a glimmer of light shin=
ing
through a tear of the cloth. 'Good God!' I said. Then he stopped. Stared at=
me
with those black goggles of his, and then at his sleeve."
"Well?"=
"That's all.=
He
never said a word; just glared, and put his sleeve back in his pocket quick=
ly.
'I was saying,' said he, 'that there was the prescription burning, wasn't I=
?'
Interrogative cough. 'How the devil,' said I, 'can you move an empty sleeve
like that?' 'Empty sleeve?' 'Yes,' said I, 'an empty sleeve.'
"'It's an em=
pty
sleeve, is it? You saw it was an empty sleeve?' He stood up right away. I s=
tood
up too. He came towards me in three very slow steps, and stood quite close.
Sniffed venomously. I didn't flinch, though I'm hanged if that bandaged kno=
b of
his, and those blinkers, aren't enough to unnerve any one, coming quietly u=
p to
you.
"'You said it
was an empty sleeve?' he said. 'Certainly,' I said. At staring and saying
nothing a barefaced man, unspectacled, starts scratch. Then very quietly he
pulled his sleeve out of his pocket again, and raised his arm towards me as
though he would show it to me again. He did it very, very slowly. I looked =
at
it. Seemed an age. 'Well?' said I, clearing my throat, 'there's nothing in =
it.'
"Had to say
something. I was beginning to feel frightened. I could see right down it. He
extended it straight towards me, slowly, slowly--just like that--until the =
cuff
was six inches from my face. Queer thing to see an empty sleeve come at you
like that! And then--"
"Well?"=
"Something--=
exactly
like a finger and thumb it felt--nipped my nose."
Bunting began to
laugh.
"There wasn't
anything there!" said Cuss, his voice running up into a shriek at the
"there." "It's all very well for you to laugh, but I tell yo=
u I
was so startled, I hit his cuff hard, and turned around, and cut out of the
room--I left him--"
Cuss stopped. The=
re
was no mistaking the sincerity of his panic. He turned round in a helpless =
way
and took a second glass of the excellent vicar's very inferior sherry.
"When I hit his cuff," said Cuss, "I tell you, it felt exact=
ly
like hitting an arm. And there wasn't an arm! There wasn't the ghost of an
arm!"
Mr. Bunting thoug=
ht
it over. He looked suspiciously at Cuss. "It's a most remarkable
story," he said. He looked very wise and grave indeed. "It's
really," said Mr. Bunting with judicial emphasis, "a most remarka=
ble
story."
CHAPTER V - THE BURGLARY =
AT
THE VICARAGE
The facts of the burglary at the vi=
carage
came to us chiefly through the medium of the vicar and his wife. It occurre=
d in
the small hours of Whit Monday, the day devoted in Iping to the Club festiv=
ities.
Mrs. Bunting, it seems, woke up suddenly in the stillness that comes before=
the
dawn, with the strong impression that the door of their bedroom had opened =
and
closed. She did not arouse her husband at first, but sat up in bed listenin=
g.
She then distinctly heard the pad, pad, pad of bare feet coming out of the =
adjoining
dressing-room and walking along the passage towards the staircase. As soon =
as
she felt assured of this, she aroused the Rev. Mr. Bunting as quietly as
possible. He did not strike a light, but putting on his spectacles, her
dressing-gown and his bath slippers, he went out on the landing to listen. =
He
heard quite distinctly a fumbling going on at his study desk down-stairs, a=
nd then
a violent sneeze.
At that he return=
ed
to his bedroom, armed himself with the most obvious weapon, the poker, and
descended the staircase as noiselessly as possible. Mrs. Bunting came out on
the landing.
The hour was about
four, and the ultimate darkness of the night was past. There was a faint
shimmer of light in the hall, but the study doorway yawned impenetrably bla=
ck.
Everything was still except the faint creaking of the stairs under Mr.
Bunting's tread, and the slight movements in the study. Then something snap=
ped,
the drawer was opened, and there was a rustle of papers. Then came an impre=
cation,
and a match was struck and the study was flooded with yellow light. Mr. Bun=
ting
was now in the hall, and through the crack of the door he could see the desk
and the open drawer and a candle burning on the desk. But the robber he cou=
ld
not see. He stood there in the hall undecided what to do, and Mrs. Bunting,=
her
face white and intent, crept slowly downstairs after him. One thing kept Mr.
Bunting's courage; the persuasion that this burglar was a resident in the
village.
They heard the ch=
ink
of money, and realised that the robber had found the housekeeping reserve of
gold--two pounds ten in half sovereigns altogether. At that sound Mr. Bunti=
ng
was nerved to abrupt action. Gripping the poker firmly, he rushed into the
room, closely followed by Mrs. Bunting. "Surrender!" cried Mr.
Bunting, fiercely, and then stooped amazed. Apparently the room was perfect=
ly
empty.
Yet their convict=
ion
that they had, that very moment, heard somebody moving in the room had amou=
nted
to a certainty. For half a minute, perhaps, they stood gaping, then Mrs.
Bunting went across the room and looked behind the screen, while Mr. Buntin=
g,
by a kindred impulse, peered under the desk. Then Mrs. Bunting turned back =
the window-curtains,
and Mr. Bunting looked up the chimney and probed it with the poker. Then Mr=
s.
Bunting scrutinised the waste-paper basket and Mr. Bunting opened the lid of
the coal-scuttle. Then they came to a stop and stood with eyes interrogating
each other.
"I could have
sworn--" said Mr. Bunting.
"The
candle!" said Mr. Bunting. "Who lit the candle?"
"The
drawer!" said Mrs. Bunting. "And the money's gone!"
She went hastily =
to
the doorway.
"Of all the
strange occurrences--"
There was a viole=
nt
sneeze in the passage. They rushed out, and as they did so the kitchen door
slammed. "Bring the candle," said Mr. Bunting, and led the way. T=
hey
both heard a sound of bolts being hastily shot back.
As he opened the
kitchen door he saw through the scullery that the back door was just openin=
g,
and the faint light of early dawn displayed the dark masses of the garden
beyond. He is certain that nothing went out of the door. It opened, stood o=
pen
for a moment, and then closed with a slam. As it did so, the candle Mrs.
Bunting was carrying from the study flickered and flared. It was a minute or
more before they entered the kitchen.
The place was emp=
ty.
They refastened the back door, examined the kitchen, pantry, and scullery
thoroughly, and at last went down into the cellar. There was not a soul to =
be
found in the house, search as they would.
Daylight found the
vicar and his wife, a quaintly-costumed little couple, still marvelling abo=
ut
on their own ground floor by the unnecessary light of a guttering candle.
CHAPTER VI - THE FURNITURE
THAT WENT MAD
Now it happened that in the early h=
ours
of Whit Monday, before Millie was hunted out for the day, Mr. Hall and Mrs.
Hall both rose and went noiselessly down into the cellar. Their business th=
ere
was of a private nature, and had something to do with the specific gravity =
of
their beer. They had hardly entered the cellar when Mrs. Hall found she had
forgotten to bring down a bottle of sarsaparilla from their joint-room. As =
she
was the expert and principal operator in this affair, Hall very properly we=
nt
upstairs for it.
On the landing he=
was
surprised to see that the stranger's door was ajar. He went on into his own
room and found the bottle as he had been directed.
But returning with
the bottle, he noticed that the bolts of the front door had been shot back,
that the door was in fact simply on the latch. And with a flash of inspirat=
ion
he connected this with the stranger's room upstairs and the suggestions of =
Mr.
Teddy Henfrey. He distinctly remembered holding the candle while Mrs. Hall =
shot
these bolts overnight. At the sight he stopped, gaping, then with the bottle
still in his hand went upstairs again. He rapped at the stranger's door. Th=
ere
was no answer. He rapped again; then pushed the door wide open and entered.=
It was as he
expected. The bed, the room also, was empty. And what was stranger, even to=
his
heavy intelligence, on the bedroom chair and along the rail of the bed were
scattered the garments, the only garments so far as he knew, and the bandag=
es
of their guest. His big slouch hat even was cocked jauntily over the bed-po=
st.
As Hall stood the=
re
he heard his wife's voice coming out of the depth of the cellar, with that
rapid telescoping of the syllables and interrogative cocking up of the final
words to a high note, by which the West Sussex villager is wont to indicate=
a
brisk impatience. "George! You gart whad a wand?"
At that he turned=
and
hurried down to her. "Janny," he said, over the rail of the cellar
steps, "'tas the truth what Henfrey sez. 'E's not in uz room, 'e en't.=
And
the front door's onbolted."
At first Mrs. Hall
did not understand, and as soon as she did she resolved to see the empty ro=
om
for herself. Hall, still holding the bottle, went first. "If 'e en't
there," he said, "'is close are. And what's 'e doin' 'ithout 'is
close, then? 'Tas a most curious business."
As they came up t=
he
cellar steps they both, it was afterwards ascertained, fancied they heard t=
he
front door open and shut, but seeing it closed and nothing there, neither s=
aid
a word to the other about it at the time. Mrs. Hall passed her husband in t=
he
passage and ran on first upstairs. Someone sneezed on the staircase. Hall, =
following
six steps behind, thought that he heard her sneeze. She, going on first, was
under the impression that Hall was sneezing. She flung open the door and st=
ood
regarding the room. "Of all the curious!" she said.
She heard a sniff
close behind her head as it seemed, and turning, was surprised to see Hall a
dozen feet off on the topmost stair. But in another moment he was beside he=
r.
She bent forward and put her hand on the pillow and then under the clothes.=
"Cold,"=
she
said. "He's been up this hour or more."
As she did so, a =
most
extraordinary thing happened. The bed-clothes gathered themselves together,
leapt up suddenly into a sort of peak, and then jumped headlong over the bo=
ttom
rail. It was exactly as if a hand had clutched them in the centre and flung
them aside. Immediately after, the stranger's hat hopped off the bed-post, =
described
a whirling flight in the air through the better part of a circle, and then
dashed straight at Mrs. Hall's face. Then as swiftly came the sponge from t=
he
washstand; and then the chair, flinging the stranger's coat and trousers
carelessly aside, and laughing drily in a voice singularly like the strange=
r's,
turned itself up with its four legs at Mrs. Hall, seemed to take aim at her=
for
a moment, and charged at her. She screamed and turned, and then the chair l=
egs
came gently but firmly against her back and impelled her and Hall out of the
room. The door slammed violently and was locked. The chair and bed seemed t=
o be
executing a dance of triumph for a moment, and then abruptly everything was
still.
Mrs. Hall was left
almost in a fainting condition in Mr. Hall's arms on the landing. It was wi=
th
the greatest difficulty that Mr. Hall and Millie, who had been roused by her
scream of alarm, succeeded in getting her downstairs, and applying the
restoratives customary in such cases.
"'Tas
sperits," said Mrs. Hall. "I know 'tas sperits. I've read in pape=
rs
of en. Tables and chairs leaping and dancing..."
"Take a drop
more, Janny," said Hall. "'Twill steady ye."
"Lock him
out," said Mrs. Hall. "Don't let him come in again. I half guesse=
d--I
might ha' known. With them goggling eyes and bandaged head, and never going=
to
church of a Sunday. And all they bottles--more'n it's right for any one to
have. He's put the sperits into the furniture.... My good old furniture! 'T=
was
in that very chair my poor dear mother used to sit when I was a little girl=
. To
think it should rise up against me now!"
"Just a drop
more, Janny," said Hall. "Your nerves is all upset."
They sent Millie
across the street through the golden five o'clock sunshine to rouse up Mr.
Sandy Wadgers, the blacksmith. Mr. Hall's compliments and the furniture
upstairs was behaving most extraordinary. Would Mr. Wadgers come round? He =
was
a knowing man, was Mr. Wadgers, and very resourceful. He took quite a grave
view of the case. "Arm darmed if thet ent witchcraft," was the vi=
ew
of Mr. Sandy Wadgers. "You warnt horseshoes for such gentry as he.&quo=
t;
He came round gre=
atly
concerned. They wanted him to lead the way upstairs to the room, but he did=
n't
seem to be in any hurry. He preferred to talk in the passage. Over the way
Huxter's apprentice came out and began taking down the shutters of the toba=
cco
window. He was called over to join the discussion. Mr. Huxter naturally fol=
lowed
over in the course of a few minutes. The Anglo-Saxon genius for parliamenta=
ry
government asserted itself; there was a great deal of talk and no decisive
action. "Let's have the facts first," insisted Mr. Sandy Wadgers.
"Let's be sure we'd be acting perfectly right in bustin' that there do=
or
open. A door onbust is always open to bustin', but ye can't onbust a door o=
nce
you've busted en."
And suddenly and =
most
wonderfully the door of the room upstairs opened of its own accord, and as =
they
looked up in amazement, they saw descending the stairs the muffled figure of
the stranger staring more blackly and blankly than ever with those unreason=
ably
large blue glass eyes of his. He came down stiffly and slowly, staring all =
the
time; he walked across the passage staring, then stopped.
"Look
there!" he said, and their eyes followed the direction of his gloved
finger and saw a bottle of sarsaparilla hard by the cellar door. Then he
entered the parlour, and suddenly, swiftly, viciously, slammed the door in
their faces.
Not a word was sp=
oken
until the last echoes of the slam had died away. They stared at one another.
"Well, if that don't lick everything!" said Mr. Wadgers, and left=
the
alternative unsaid.
"I'd go in a=
nd
ask'n 'bout it," said Wadgers, to Mr. Hall. "I'd d'mand an
explanation."
It took some time=
to
bring the landlady's husband up to that pitch. At last he rapped, opened the
door, and got as far as, "Excuse me--"
"Go to the
devil!" said the stranger in a tremendous voice, and "Shut that d=
oor
after you." So that brief interview terminated.
CHAPTER VII - THE UNVEILI=
NG
OF THE STRANGER
The stranger went into the little p=
arlour
of the "Coach and Horses" about half-past five in the morning, and
there he remained until near midday, the blinds down, the door shut, and no=
ne,
after Hall's repulse, venturing near him.
All that time he =
must
have fasted. Thrice he rang his bell, the third time furiously and
continuously, but no one answered him. "Him and his 'go to the devil'
indeed!" said Mrs. Hall. Presently came an imperfect rumour of the
burglary at the vicarage, and two and two were put together. Hall, assisted=
by
Wadgers, went off to find Mr. Shuckleforth, the magistrate, and take his
advice. No one ventured upstairs. How the stranger occupied himself is unkn=
own.
Now and then he would stride violently up and down, and twice came an outbu=
rst
of curses, a tearing of paper, and a violent smashing of bottles.
The little group =
of
scared but curious people increased. Mrs. Huxter came over; some gay young
fellows resplendent in black ready-made jackets and pique paper ties--for it
was Whit Monday--joined the group with confused interrogations. Young Archie
Harker distinguished himself by going up the yard and trying to peep under =
the
window-blinds. He could see nothing, but gave reason for supposing that he =
did,
and others of the Iping youth presently joined him.
It was the finest=
of
all possible Whit Mondays, and down the village street stood a row of nearl=
y a
dozen booths, a shooting gallery, and on the grass by the forge were three
yellow and chocolate waggons and some picturesque strangers of both sexes p=
utting
up a cocoanut shy. The gentlemen wore blue jerseys, the ladies white aprons=
and
quite fashionable hats with heavy plumes. Wodger, of the "Purple
Fawn," and Mr. Jaggers, the cobbler, who also sold old second-hand
ordinary bicycles, were stretching a string of union-jacks and royal ensigns
(which had originally celebrated the first Victorian Jubilee) across the ro=
ad.
And inside, in the
artificial darkness of the parlour, into which only one thin jet of sunlight
penetrated, the stranger, hungry we must suppose, and fearful, hidden in his
uncomfortable hot wrappings, pored through his dark glasses upon his paper =
or
chinked his dirty little bottles, and occasionally swore savagely at the bo=
ys,
audible if invisible, outside the windows. In the corner by the fireplace l=
ay
the fragments of half a dozen smashed bottles, and a pungent twang of chlor=
ine
tainted the air. So much we know from what was heard at the time and from w=
hat
was subsequently seen in the room.
About noon he
suddenly opened his parlour door and stood glaring fixedly at the three or =
four
people in the bar. "Mrs. Hall," he said. Somebody went sheepishly=
and
called for Mrs. Hall.
Mrs. Hall appeared
after an interval, a little short of breath, but all the fiercer for that. =
Hall
was still out. She had deliberated over this scene, and she came holding a
little tray with an unsettled bill upon it. "Is it your bill you're
wanting, sir?" she said.
"Why wasn't =
my
breakfast laid? Why haven't you prepared my meals and answered my bell? Do =
you
think I live without eating?"
"Why isn't my
bill paid?" said Mrs. Hall. "That's what I want to know."
"I told you
three days ago I was awaiting a remittance--"
"I told you =
two
days ago I wasn't going to await no remittances. You can't grumble if your
breakfast waits a bit, if my bill's been waiting these five days, can
you?"
The stranger swore
briefly but vividly.
"Nar, nar!&q=
uot;
from the bar.
"And I'd tha=
nk
you kindly, sir, if you'd keep your swearing to yourself, sir," said M=
rs.
Hall.
The stranger stood
looking more like an angry diving-helmet than ever. It was universally felt=
in
the bar that Mrs. Hall had the better of him. His next words showed as much=
.
"Look here, =
my
good woman--" he began.
"Don't 'good
woman' me," said Mrs. Hall.
"I've told y=
ou
my remittance hasn't come."
"Remittance
indeed!" said Mrs. Hall.
"Still, I
daresay in my pocket--"
"You told me
three days ago that you hadn't anything but a sovereign's worth of silver u=
pon
you."
"Well, I've
found some more--"
"'Ul-lo!&quo=
t;
from the bar.
"I wonder wh=
ere
you found it," said Mrs. Hall.
That seemed to an=
noy
the stranger very much. He stamped his foot. "What do you mean?" =
he
said.
"That I wond=
er
where you found it," said Mrs. Hall. "And before I take any bills=
or
get any breakfasts, or do any such things whatsoever, you got to tell me on=
e or
two things I don't understand, and what nobody don't understand, and what
everybody is very anxious to understand. I want to know what you been doing
t'my chair upstairs, and I want to know how 'tis your room was empty, and h=
ow you
got in again. Them as stops in this house comes in by the doors--that's the
rule of the house, and that you didn't do, and what I want to know is how y=
ou
did come in. And I want to know--"
Suddenly the stra=
nger
raised his gloved hands clenched, stamped his foot, and said, "Stop!&q=
uot;
with such extraordinary violence that he silenced her instantly.
"You don't
understand," he said, "who I am or what I am. I'll show you. By
Heaven! I'll show you." Then he put his open palm over his face and
withdrew it. The centre of his face became a black cavity. "Here,"=
; he
said. He stepped forward and handed Mrs. Hall something which she, staring =
at
his metamorphosed face, accepted automatically. Then, when she saw what it =
was,
she screamed loudly, dropped it, and staggered back. The nose--it was the
stranger's nose! pink and shining--rolled on the floor.
Then he removed h=
is
spectacles, and everyone in the bar gasped. He took off his hat, and with a=
violent
gesture tore at his whiskers and bandages. For a moment they resisted him. A
flash of horrible anticipation passed through the bar. "Oh, my Gard!&q=
uot;
said some one. Then off they came.
It was worse than
anything. Mrs. Hall, standing open-mouthed and horror-struck, shrieked at w=
hat
she saw, and made for the door of the house. Everyone began to move. They w=
ere
prepared for scars, disfigurements, tangible horrors, but nothing! The band=
ages
and false hair flew across the passage into the bar, making a hobbledehoy j=
ump
to avoid them. Everyone tumbled on everyone else down the steps. For the man
who stood there shouting some incoherent explanation, was a solid gesticula=
ting
figure up to the coat-collar of him, and then--nothingness, no visible thin=
g at
all!
People down the
village heard shouts and shrieks, and looking up the street saw the "C=
oach
and Horses" violently firing out its humanity. They saw Mrs. Hall fall
down and Mr. Teddy Henfrey jump to avoid tumbling over her, and then they h=
eard
the frightful screams of Millie, who, emerging suddenly from the kitchen at=
the
noise of the tumult, had come upon the headless stranger from behind. These
increased suddenly.
Forthwith everyone
all down the street, the sweetstuff seller, cocoanut shy proprietor and his=
assistant,
the swing man, little boys and girls, rustic dandies, smart wenches, smocked
elders and aproned gipsies--began running towards the inn, and in a miracul=
ously
short space of time a crowd of perhaps forty people, and rapidly increasing,
swayed and hooted and inquired and exclaimed and suggested, in front of Mrs.
Hall's establishment. Everyone seemed eager to talk at once, and the result=
was
Babel. A small group supported Mrs. Hall, who was picked up in a state of c=
ollapse.
There was a conference, and the incredible evidence of a vociferous
eye-witness. "O Bogey!" "What's he been doin', then?" &=
quot;Ain't
hurt the girl, 'as 'e?" "Run at en with a knife, I believe."=
"No
'ed, I tell ye. I don't mean no manner of speaking. I mean marn 'ithout a
'ed!" "Narnsense! 'tis some conjuring trick." "Fetched =
off
'is wrapping, 'e did--"
In its struggles =
to
see in through the open door, the crowd formed itself into a straggling wed=
ge,
with the more adventurous apex nearest the inn. "He stood for a moment=
, I
heerd the gal scream, and he turned. I saw her skirts whisk, and he went af=
ter
her. Didn't take ten seconds. Back he comes with a knife in uz hand and a l=
oaf;
stood just as if he was staring. Not a moment ago. Went in that there door.=
I
tell 'e, 'e ain't gart no 'ed at all. You just missed en--"
There was a
disturbance behind, and the speaker stopped to step aside for a little
procession that was marching very resolutely towards the house; first Mr. H=
all,
very red and determined, then Mr. Bobby Jaffers, the village constable, and
then the wary Mr. Wadgers. They had come now armed with a warrant.
People shouted
conflicting information of the recent circumstances. "'Ed or no 'ed,&q=
uot;
said Jaffers, "I got to 'rest en, and 'rest en I will."
Mr. Hall marched =
up
the steps, marched straight to the door of the parlour and flung it open.
"Constable," he said, "do your duty."
Jaffers marched i=
n.
Hall next, Wadgers last. They saw in the dim light the headless figure faci=
ng
them, with a gnawed crust of bread in one gloved hand and a chunk of cheese=
in
the other.
"That's
him!" said Hall.
"What the
devil's this?" came in a tone of angry expostulation from above the co=
llar
of the figure.
"You're a da=
mned
rum customer, mister," said Mr. Jaffers. "But 'ed or no 'ed, the
warrant says 'body,' and duty's duty--"
"Keep off!&q=
uot;
said the figure, starting back.
Abruptly he whipp=
ed
down the bread and cheese, and Mr. Hall just grasped the knife on the table=
in
time to save it. Off came the stranger's left glove and was slapped in Jaff=
ers'
face. In another moment Jaffers, cutting short some statement concerning a
warrant, had gripped him by the handless wrist and caught his invisible thr=
oat.
He got a sounding kick on the shin that made him shout, but he kept his gri=
p.
Hall sent the knife sliding along the table to Wadgers, who acted as
goal-keeper for the offensive, so to speak, and then stepped forward as Jaf=
fers
and the stranger swayed and staggered towards him, clutching and hitting in=
. A
chair stood in the way, and went aside with a crash as they came down toget=
her.
"Get the
feet," said Jaffers between his teeth.
Mr. Hall,
endeavouring to act on instructions, received a sounding kick in the ribs t=
hat
disposed of him for a moment, and Mr. Wadgers, seeing the decapitated stran=
ger
had rolled over and got the upper side of Jaffers, retreated towards the do=
or,
knife in hand, and so collided with Mr. Huxter and the Sidderbridge carter =
coming
to the rescue of law and order. At the same moment down came three or four
bottles from the chiffonnier and shot a web of pungency into the air of the
room.
"I'll
surrender," cried the stranger, though he had Jaffers down, and in ano=
ther
moment he stood up panting, a strange figure, headless and handless--for he=
had
pulled off his right glove now as well as his left. "It's no good,&quo=
t;
he said, as if sobbing for breath.
It was the strang=
est
thing in the world to hear that voice coming as if out of empty space, but =
the
Sussex peasants are perhaps the most matter-of-fact people under the sun.
Jaffers got up also and produced a pair of handcuffs. Then he stared.
"I say!"
said Jaffers, brought up short by a dim realization of the incongruity of t=
he
whole business, "Darn it! Can't use 'em as I can see."
The stranger ran =
his
arm down his waistcoat, and as if by a miracle the buttons to which his emp=
ty
sleeve pointed became undone. Then he said something about his shin, and
stooped down. He seemed to be fumbling with his shoes and socks.
"Why!" =
said
Huxter, suddenly, "that's not a man at all. It's just empty clothes. L=
ook!
You can see down his collar and the linings of his clothes. I could put my
arm--"
He extended his h=
and;
it seemed to meet something in mid-air, and he drew it back with a sharp
exclamation. "I wish you'd keep your fingers out of my eye," said=
the
aerial voice, in a tone of savage expostulation. "The fact is, I'm all
here--head, hands, legs, and all the rest of it, but it happens I'm invisib=
le.
It's a confounded nuisance, but I am. That's no reason why I should be poke=
d to
pieces by every stupid bumpkin in Iping, is it?"
The suit of cloth=
es,
now all unbuttoned and hanging loosely upon its unseen supports, stood up, =
arms
akimbo.
Several other of =
the
men folks had now entered the room, so that it was closely crowded.
"Invisible, eh?" said Huxter, ignoring the stranger's abuse.
"Who ever heard the likes of that?"
"It's strang=
e,
perhaps, but it's not a crime. Why am I assaulted by a policeman in this
fashion?"
"Ah! that's a
different matter," said Jaffers. "No doubt you are a bit difficul=
t to
see in this light, but I got a warrant and it's all correct. What I'm after
ain't no invisibility,--it's burglary. There's a house been broke into and
money took."
"Well?"=
"And
circumstances certainly point--"
"Stuff and
nonsense!" said the Invisible Man.
"I hope so, =
sir;
but I've got my instructions."
"Well,"
said the stranger, "I'll come. I'll come. But no handcuffs."
"It's the
regular thing," said Jaffers.
"No
handcuffs," stipulated the stranger.
"Pardon
me," said Jaffers.
Abruptly the figu=
re
sat down, and before any one could realise was was being done, the slippers,
socks, and trousers had been kicked off under the table. Then he sprang up
again and flung off his coat.
"Here, stop
that," said Jaffers, suddenly realising what was happening. He gripped=
at
the waistcoat; it struggled, and the shirt slipped out of it and left it li=
mply
and empty in his hand. "Hold him!" said Jaffers, loudly. "On=
ce
he gets the things off--"
"Hold him!&q=
uot;
cried everyone, and there was a rush at the fluttering white shirt which was
now all that was visible of the stranger.
The shirt-sleeve
planted a shrewd blow in Hall's face that stopped his open-armed advance, a=
nd
sent him backward into old Toothsome the sexton, and in another moment the
garment was lifted up and became convulsed and vacantly flapping about the
arms, even as a shirt that is being thrust over a man's head. Jaffers clutc=
hed
at it, and only helped to pull it off; he was struck in the mouth out of the
air, and incontinently threw his truncheon and smote Teddy Henfrey savagely
upon the crown of his head.
"Look out!&q=
uot;
said everybody, fencing at random and hitting at nothing. "Hold him! S=
hut
the door! Don't let him loose! I got something! Here he is!" A perfect
Babel of noises they made. Everybody, it seemed, was being hit all at once,=
and
Sandy Wadgers, knowing as ever and his wits sharpened by a frightful blow in
the nose, reopened the door and led the rout. The others, following inconti=
nently,
were jammed for a moment in the corner by the doorway. The hitting continue=
d.
Phipps, the Unitarian, had a front tooth broken, and Henfrey was injured in=
the
cartilage of his ear. Jaffers was struck under the jaw, and, turning, caugh=
t at
something that intervened between him and Huxter in the melee, and prevente=
d their
coming together. He felt a muscular chest, and in another moment the whole =
mass
of struggling, excited men shot out into the crowded hall.
"I got
him!" shouted Jaffers, choking and reeling through them all, and wrest=
ling
with purple face and swelling veins against his unseen enemy.
Men staggered rig=
ht
and left as the extraordinary conflict swayed swiftly towards the house doo=
r,
and went spinning down the half-dozen steps of the inn. Jaffers cried in a
strangled voice--holding tight, nevertheless, and making play with his knee=
--spun
around, and fell heavily undermost with his head on the gravel. Only then d=
id
his fingers relax.
There were excited
cries of "Hold him!" "Invisible!" and so forth, and a y=
oung
fellow, a stranger in the place whose name did not come to light, rushed in=
at
once, caught something, missed his hold, and fell over the constable's
prostrate body. Half-way across the road a woman screamed as something push=
ed
by her; a dog, kicked apparently, yelped and ran howling into Huxter's yard,
and with that the transit of the Invisible Man was accomplished. For a spac=
e people
stood amazed and gesticulating, and then came panic, and scattered them abr=
oad
through the village as a gust scatters dead leaves.
But Jaffers lay q=
uite
still, face upward and knees bent, at the foot of the steps of the inn.
The eighth chapter is exceedingly b=
rief,
and relates that Gibbons, the amateur naturalist of the district, while lyi=
ng
out on the spacious open downs without a soul within a couple of miles of h=
im, as
he thought, and almost dozing, heard close to him the sound as of a man
coughing, sneezing, and then swearing savagely to himself; and looking, beh=
eld
nothing. Yet the voice was indisputable. It continued to swear with that
breadth and variety that distinguishes the swearing of a cultivated man. It
grew to a climax, diminished again, and died away in the distance, going as=
it
seemed to him in the direction of Adderdean. It lifted to a spasmodic sneeze
and ended. Gibbons had heard nothing of the morning's occurrences, but the
phenomenon was so striking and disturbing that his philosophical tranquilli=
ty
vanished; he got up hastily, and hurried down the steepness of the hill tow=
ards
the village, as fast as he could go.
CHAPTER IX - MR. THOMAS
MARVEL
You must picture Mr. Thomas Marvel =
as a
person of copious, flexible visage, a nose of cylindrical protrusion, a
liquorish, ample, fluctuating mouth, and a beard of bristling eccentricity.=
His
figure inclined to embonpoint; his short limbs accentuated this inclination=
. He
wore a furry silk hat, and the frequent substitution of twine and shoe-laces
for buttons, apparent at critical points of his costume, marked a man
essentially bachelor.
Mr. Thomas Marvel=
was
sitting with his feet in a ditch by the roadside over the down towards
Adderdean, about a mile and a half out of Iping. His feet, save for socks of
irregular open-work, were bare, his big toes were broad, and pricked like t=
he
ears of a watchful dog. In a leisurely manner--he did everything in a leisu=
rely
manner--he was contemplating trying on a pair of boots. They were the sound=
est
boots he had come across for a long time, but too large for him; whereas the
ones he had were, in dry weather, a very comfortable fit, but too thin-soled
for damp. Mr. Thomas Marvel hated roomy shoes, but then he hated damp. He h=
ad
never properly thought out which he hated most, and it was a pleasant day, =
and there
was nothing better to do. So he put the four shoes in a graceful group on t=
he
turf and looked at them. And seeing them there among the grass and springing
agrimony, it suddenly occurred to him that both pairs were exceedingly ugly=
to
see. He was not at all startled by a voice behind him.
"They're boo=
ts,
anyhow," said the Voice.
"They
are--charity boots," said Mr. Thomas Marvel, with his head on one side
regarding them distastefully; "and which is the ugliest pair in the wh=
ole
blessed universe, I'm darned if I know!"
"H'm," =
said
the Voice.
"I've worn
worse--in fact, I've worn none. But none so owdacious ugly--if you'll allow=
the
expression. I've been cadging boots--in particular--for days. Because I was
sick of them. They're sound enough, of course. But a gentleman on tramp sees
such a thundering lot of his boots. And if you'll believe me, I've raised n=
othing
in the whole blessed country, try as I would, but them. Look at 'em! And a =
good
country for boots, too, in a general way. But it's just my promiscuous luck.
I've got my boots in this country ten years or more. And then they treat you
like this."
"It's a beas=
t of
a country," said the Voice. "And pigs for people."
"Ain't it?&q=
uot;
said Mr. Thomas Marvel. "Lord! But them boots! It beats it."
He turned his head
over his shoulder to the right, to look at the boots of his interlocutor wi=
th a
view to comparisons, and lo! where the boots of his interlocutor should have
been were neither legs nor boots. He was irradiated by the dawn of a great
amazement. "Where are yer?" said Mr. Thomas Marvel over his shoul=
der
and coming on all fours. He saw a stretch of empty downs with the wind sway=
ing
the remote green-pointed furze bushes.
"Am I
drunk?" said Mr. Marvel. "Have I had visions? Was I talking to
myself? What the--"
"Don't be
alarmed," said a Voice.
"None of your
ventriloquising me," said Mr. Thomas Marvel, rising sharply to his fee=
t.
"Where are yer? Alarmed, indeed!"
"Don't be
alarmed," repeated the Voice.
"You'll be
alarmed in a minute, you silly fool," said Mr. Thomas Marvel. "Wh=
ere
are yer? Lemme get my mark on yer...
"Are yer
buried?" said Mr. Thomas Marvel, after an interval.
There was no answ= er. Mr. Thomas Marvel stood bootless and amazed, his jacket nearly thrown off.<= o:p>
"Peewit,&quo=
t;
said a peewit, very remote.
"Peewit,
indeed!" said Mr. Thomas Marvel. "This ain't no time for foolery.=
"
The down was desolate, east and west, north and south; the road with its
shallow ditches and white bordering stakes, ran smooth and empty north and
south, and, save for that peewit, the blue sky was empty too. "So help
me," said Mr. Thomas Marvel, shuffling his coat on to his shoulders ag=
ain.
"It's the drink! I might ha' known."
"It's not the
drink," said the Voice. "You keep your nerves steady."
"Ow!" s=
aid
Mr. Marvel, and his face grew white amidst its patches. "It's the
drink!" his lips repeated noiselessly. He remained staring about him,
rotating slowly backwards. "I could have swore I heard a voice," =
he
whispered.
"Of course y=
ou
did."
"It's there
again," said Mr. Marvel, closing his eyes and clasping his hand on his
brow with a tragic gesture. He was suddenly taken by the collar and shaken
violently, and left more dazed than ever. "Don't be a fool," said=
the
Voice.
"I'm--off--m=
y--blooming--chump,"
said Mr. Marvel. "It's no good. It's fretting about them blarsted boot=
s.
I'm off my blessed blooming chump. Or it's spirits."
"Neither one
thing nor the other," said the Voice. "Listen!"
"Chump,"
said Mr. Marvel.
"One
minute," said the Voice, penetratingly, tremulous with self-control.
"Well?"
said Mr. Thomas Marvel, with a strange feeling of having been dug in the ch=
est
by a finger.
"You think I=
'm
just imagination? Just imagination?"
"What else c=
an
you be?" said Mr. Thomas Marvel, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Very
well," said the Voice, in a tone of relief. "Then I'm going to th=
row
flints at you till you think differently."
"But where a=
re
yer?"
The Voice made no
answer. Whizz came a flint, apparently out of the air, and missed Mr. Marve=
l's
shoulder by a hair's-breadth. Mr. Marvel, turning, saw a flint jerk up into=
the
air, trace a complicated path, hang for a moment, and then fling at his fee=
t with
almost invisible rapidity. He was too amazed to dodge. Whizz it came, and
ricochetted from a bare toe into the ditch. Mr. Thomas Marvel jumped a foot=
and
howled aloud. Then he started to run, tripped over an unseen obstacle, and =
came
head over heels into a sitting position.
"Now," =
said
the Voice, as a third stone curved upward and hung in the air above the tra=
mp.
"Am I imagination?"
Mr. Marvel by way=
of
reply struggled to his feet, and was immediately rolled over again. He lay
quiet for a moment. "If you struggle any more," said the Voice,
"I shall throw the flint at your head."
"It's a fair
do," said Mr. Thomas Marvel, sitting up, taking his wounded toe in hand
and fixing his eye on the third missile. "I don't understand it. Stones
flinging themselves. Stones talking. Put yourself down. Rot away. I'm
done."
The third flint f=
ell.
"It's very
simple," said the Voice. "I'm an invisible man."
"Tell us
something I don't know," said Mr. Marvel, gasping with pain. "Whe=
re
you've hid--how you do it--I don't know. I'm beat."
"That's
all," said the Voice. "I'm invisible. That's what I want you to
understand."
"Anyone could
see that. There is no need for you to be so confounded impatient, mister. N=
ow
then. Give us a notion. How are you hid?"
"I'm invisib=
le.
That's the great point. And what I want you to understand is this--"
"But
whereabouts?" interrupted Mr. Marvel.
"Here! Six y=
ards
in front of you."
"Oh, come! I
ain't blind. You'll be telling me next you're just thin air. I'm not one of
your ignorant tramps--"
"Yes, I am--=
thin
air. You're looking through me."
"What! Ain't
there any stuff to you. Vox et--what is it?--jabber. Is it that?"
"I am just a
human being--solid, needing food and drink, needing covering too--But I'm
invisible. You see? Invisible. Simple idea. Invisible."
"What, real
like?"
"Yes,
real."
"Let's have a
hand of you," said Marvel, "if you are real. It won't be so darn
out-of-the-way like, then--Lord!" he said, "how you made me
jump!--gripping me like that!"
He felt the hand =
that
had closed round his wrist with his disengaged fingers, and his fingers went
timorously up the arm, patted a muscular chest, and explored a bearded face.
Marvel's face was astonishment.
"I'm
dashed!" he said. "If this don't beat cock-fighting! Most remarka=
ble!--And
there I can see a rabbit clean through you, 'arf a mile away! Not a bit of =
you
visible--except--"
He scrutinised the
apparently empty space keenly. "You 'aven't been eatin' bread and
cheese?" he asked, holding the invisible arm.
"You're quite
right, and it's not quite assimilated into the system."
"Ah!" s=
aid
Mr. Marvel. "Sort of ghostly, though."
"Of course, =
all
this isn't half so wonderful as you think."
"It's quite
wonderful enough for my modest wants," said Mr. Thomas Marvel.
"Howjer manage it! How the dooce is it done?"
"It's too lo=
ng a
story. And besides--"
"I tell you,=
the
whole business fairly beats me," said Mr. Marvel.
"What I want=
to
say at present is this: I need help. I have come to that--I came upon you s=
uddenly.
I was wandering, mad with rage, naked, impotent. I could have murdered. And=
I
saw you--"
"Lord!"
said Mr. Marvel.
"I came up
behind you--hesitated--went on--"
Mr. Marvel's
expression was eloquent.
"--then stop=
ped.
'Here,' I said, 'is an outcast like myself. This is the man for me.' So I
turned back and came to you--you. And--"
"Lord!"
said Mr. Marvel. "But I'm all in a tizzy. May I ask--How is it? And wh=
at
you may be requiring in the way of help?--Invisible!"
"I want you =
to
help me get clothes--and shelter--and then, with other things. I've left th=
em
long enough. If you won't--well! But you will--must."
"Look
here," said Mr. Marvel. "I'm too flabbergasted. Don't knock me ab=
out
any more. And leave me go. I must get steady a bit. And you've pretty near
broken my toe. It's all so unreasonable. Empty downs, empty sky. Nothing
visible for miles except the bosom of Nature. And then comes a voice. A voi=
ce
out of heaven! And stones! And a fist--Lord!"
"Pull yourse=
lf
together," said the Voice, "for you have to do the job I've chosen
for you."
Mr. Marvel blew o=
ut
his cheeks, and his eyes were round.
"I've chosen
you," said the Voice. "You are the only man except some of those
fools down there, who knows there is such a thing as an invisible man. You =
have
to be my helper. Help me--and I will do great things for you. An invisible =
man
is a man of power." He stopped for a moment to sneeze violently.
"But if you
betray me," he said, "if you fail to do as I direct you--" He
paused and tapped Mr. Marvel's shoulder smartly. Mr. Marvel gave a yelp of
terror at the touch. "I don't want to betray you," said Mr. Marve=
l,
edging away from the direction of the fingers. "Don't you go a-thinking
that, whatever you do. All I want to do is to help you--just tell me what I=
got
to do. (Lord!) Whatever you want done, that I'm most willing to do."
CHAPTER X - MR. MARVEL'S
VISIT TO IPING
After the first gusty panic had spe=
nt
itself Iping became argumentative. Scepticism suddenly reared its head--rat=
her
nervous scepticism, not at all assured of its back, but scepticism neverthe=
less.
It is so much easier not to believe in an invisible man; and those who had
actually seen him dissolve into air, or felt the strength of his arm, could=
be
counted on the fingers of two hands. And of these witnesses Mr. Wadgers was
presently missing, having retired impregnably behind the bolts and bars of =
his
own house, and Jaffers was lying stunned in the parlour of the "Coach =
and
Horses." Great and strange ideas transcending experience often have le=
ss
effect upon men and women than smaller, more tangible considerations. Iping=
was
gay with bunting, and everybody was in gala dress. Whit Monday had been loo=
ked
forward to for a month or more. By the afternoon even those who believed in=
the
Unseen were beginning to resume their little amusements in a tentative fash=
ion,
on the supposition that he had quite gone away, and with the sceptics he was
already a jest. But people, sceptics and believers alike, were remarkably
sociable all that day.
Haysman's meadow =
was
gay with a tent, in which Mrs. Bunting and other ladies were preparing tea,
while, without, the Sunday-school children ran races and played games under=
the
noisy guidance of the curate and the Misses Cuss and Sackbut. No doubt there
was a slight uneasiness in the air, but people for the most part had the se=
nse to
conceal whatever imaginative qualms they experienced. On the village green =
an
inclined strong [word missing?], down which, clinging the while to a
pulley-swung handle, one could be hurled violently against a sack at the ot=
her
end, came in for considerable favour among the adolescent, as also did the
swings and the cocoanut shies. There was also promenading, and the steam or=
gan
attached to a small roundabout filled the air with a pungent flavour of oil=
and
with equally pungent music. Members of the club, who had attended church in=
the
morning, were splendid in badges of pink and green, and some of the
gayer-minded had also adorned their bowler hats with brilliant-coloured fav=
ours
of ribbon. Old Fletcher, whose conceptions of holiday-making were severe, w=
as
visible through the jasmine about his window or through the open door
(whichever way you chose to look), poised delicately on a plank supported on
two chairs, and whitewashing the ceiling of his front room.
About four o'cloc=
k a
stranger entered the village from the direction of the downs. He was a shor=
t,
stout person in an extraordinarily shabby top hat, and he appeared to be ve=
ry
much out of breath. His cheeks were alternately limp and tightly puffed. His
mottled face was apprehensive, and he moved with a sort of reluctant alacri=
ty.
He turned the corner of the church, and directed his way to the "Coach=
and
Horses." Among others old Fletcher remembers seeing him, and indeed the
old gentleman was so struck by his peculiar agitation that he inadvertently
allowed a quantity of whitewash to run down the brush into the sleeve of his
coat while regarding him.
This stranger, to=
the
perceptions of the proprietor of the cocoanut shy, appeared to be talking to
himself, and Mr. Huxter remarked the same thing. He stopped at the foot of =
the
"Coach and Horses" steps, and, according to Mr. Huxter, appeared =
to
undergo a severe internal struggle before he could induce himself to enter =
the
house. Finally he marched up the steps, and was seen by Mr. Huxter to turn =
to
the left and open the door of the parlour. Mr. Huxter heard voices from wit=
hin
the room and from the bar apprising the man of his error. "That room's
private!" said Hall, and the stranger shut the door clumsily and went =
into
the bar.
In the course of a
few minutes he reappeared, wiping his lips with the back of his hand with an
air of quiet satisfaction that somehow impressed Mr. Huxter as assumed. He
stood looking about him for some moments, and then Mr. Huxter saw him walk =
in
an oddly furtive manner towards the gates of the yard, upon which the parlo=
ur
window opened. The stranger, after some hesitation, leant against one of the
gate-posts, produced a short clay pipe, and prepared to fill it. His fingers
trembled while doing so. He lit it clumsily, and folding his arms began to
smoke in a languid attitude, an attitude which his occasional glances up the
yard altogether belied.
All this Mr. Huxt=
er
saw over the canisters of the tobacco window, and the singularity of the ma=
n's
behaviour prompted him to maintain his observation.
Presently the
stranger stood up abruptly and put his pipe in his pocket. Then he vanished
into the yard. Forthwith Mr. Huxter, conceiving he was witness of some petty
larceny, leapt round his counter and ran out into the road to intercept the
thief. As he did so, Mr. Marvel reappeared, his hat askew, a big bundle in a
blue table-cloth in one hand, and three books tied together--as it proved a=
fterwards
with the Vicar's braces--in the other. Directly he saw Huxter he gave a sor=
t of
gasp, and turning sharply to the left, began to run. "Stop, thief!&quo=
t;
cried Huxter, and set off after him. Mr. Huxter's sensations were vivid but
brief. He saw the man just before him and spurting briskly for the church
corner and the hill road. He saw the village flags and festivities beyond, =
and
a face or so turned towards him. He bawled, "Stop!" again. He had
hardly gone ten strides before his shin was caught in some mysterious fashi=
on, and
he was no longer running, but flying with inconceivable rapidity through the
air. He saw the ground suddenly close to his face. The world seemed to spla=
sh
into a million whirling specks of light, and subsequent proceedings interes=
ted
him no more.
CHAPTER XI - IN THE "=
;COACH
AND HORSES"
Now in order clearly to understand =
what
had happened in the inn, it is necessary to go back to the moment when Mr.
Marvel first came into view of Mr. Huxter's window.
At that precise
moment Mr. Cuss and Mr. Bunting were in the parlour. They were seriously
investigating the strange occurrences of the morning, and were, with Mr. Ha=
ll's
permission, making a thorough examination of the Invisible Man's belongings.
Jaffers had partially recovered from his fall and had gone home in the char=
ge
of his sympathetic friends. The stranger's scattered garments had been remo=
ved
by Mrs. Hall and the room tidied up. And on the table under the window where
the stranger had been wont to work, Cuss had hit almost at once on three big
books in manuscript labelled "Diary."
"Diary!"
said Cuss, putting the three books on the table. "Now, at any rate, we
shall learn something." The Vicar stood with his hands on the table.
"Diary,"
repeated Cuss, sitting down, putting two volumes to support the third, and
opening it. "H'm--no name on the fly-leaf. Bother!--cypher. And
figures."
The vicar came ro=
und
to look over his shoulder.
Cuss turned the p=
ages
over with a face suddenly disappointed. "I'm--dear me! It's all cypher,
Bunting."
"There are no
diagrams?" asked Mr. Bunting. "No illustrations throwing
light--"
"See for
yourself," said Mr. Cuss. "Some of it's mathematical and some of =
it's
Russian or some such language (to judge by the letters), and some of it's
Greek. Now the Greek I thought you--"
"Of
course," said Mr. Bunting, taking out and wiping his spectacles and
feeling suddenly very uncomfortable--for he had no Greek left in his mind w=
orth
talking about; "yes--the Greek, of course, may furnish a clue."
"I'll find y=
ou a
place."
"I'd rather
glance through the volumes first," said Mr. Bunting, still wiping. &qu=
ot;A
general impression first, Cuss, and then, you know, we can go looking for
clues."
He coughed, put on
his glasses, arranged them fastidiously, coughed again, and wished something
would happen to avert the seemingly inevitable exposure. Then he took the
volume Cuss handed him in a leisurely manner. And then something did happen=
.
The door opened
suddenly.
Both gentlemen
started violently, looked round, and were relieved to see a sporadically ro=
sy
face beneath a furry silk hat. "Tap?" asked the face, and stood
staring.
"No," s=
aid
both gentlemen at once.
"Over the ot=
her
side, my man," said Mr. Bunting. And "Please shut that door,"
said Mr. Cuss, irritably.
"All
right," said the intruder, as it seemed in a low voice curiously diffe=
rent
from the huskiness of its first inquiry. "Right you are," said the
intruder in the former voice. "Stand clear!" and he vanished and
closed the door.
"A sailor, I
should judge," said Mr. Bunting. "Amusing fellows, they are. Stand
clear! indeed. A nautical term, referring to his getting back out of the ro=
om,
I suppose."
"I daresay
so," said Cuss. "My nerves are all loose to-day. It quite made me
jump--the door opening like that."
Mr. Bunting smile=
d as
if he had not jumped. "And now," he said with a sigh, "these
books."
Someone sniffed a=
s he
did so.
"One thing is
indisputable," said Bunting, drawing up a chair next to that of Cuss.
"There certainly have been very strange things happen in Iping during =
the
last few days--very strange. I cannot of course believe in this absurd
invisibility story--"
"It's
incredible," said Cuss--"incredible. But the fact remains that I
saw--I certainly saw right down his sleeve--"
"But did
you--are you sure? Suppose a mirror, for instance-- hallucinations are so
easily produced. I don't know if you have ever seen a really good
conjuror--"
"I won't arg=
ue
again," said Cuss. "We've thrashed that out, Bunting. And just now
there's these books--Ah! here's some of what I take to be Greek! Greek lett=
ers certainly."
He pointed to the
middle of the page. Mr. Bunting flushed slightly and brought his face neare=
r,
apparently finding some difficulty with his glasses. Suddenly he became awa=
re
of a strange feeling at the nape of his neck. He tried to raise his head, a=
nd
encountered an immovable resistance. The feeling was a curious pressure, th=
e grip
of a heavy, firm hand, and it bore his chin irresistibly to the table.
"Don't move, little men," whispered a voice, "or I'll brain =
you
both!" He looked into the face of Cuss, close to his own, and each saw=
a
horrified reflection of his own sickly astonishment.
"I'm sorry to
handle you so roughly," said the Voice, "but it's unavoidable.&qu=
ot;
"Since when =
did
you learn to pry into an investigator's private memoranda," said the
Voice; and two chins struck the table simultaneously, and two sets of teeth
rattled.
"Since when =
did
you learn to invade the private rooms of a man in misfortune?" and the
concussion was repeated.
"Where have =
they
put my clothes?"
"Listen,&quo=
t;
said the Voice. "The windows are fastened and I've taken the key out of
the door. I am a fairly strong man, and I have the poker handy--besides bei=
ng
invisible. There's not the slightest doubt that I could kill you both and g=
et
away quite easily if I wanted to--do you understand? Very well. If I let yo=
u go
will you promise not to try any nonsense and do what I tell you?"
The vicar and the
doctor looked at one another, and the doctor pulled a face. "Yes,"
said Mr. Bunting, and the doctor repeated it. Then the pressure on the necks
relaxed, and the doctor and the vicar sat up, both very red in the face and
wriggling their heads.
"Please keep
sitting where you are," said the Invisible Man. "Here's the poker,
you see."
"When I came
into this room," continued the Invisible Man, after presenting the pok=
er
to the tip of the nose of each of his visitors, "I did not expect to f=
ind
it occupied, and I expected to find, in addition to my books of memoranda, =
an
outfit of clothing. Where is it? No--don't rise. I can see it's gone. Now, =
just
at present, though the days are quite warm enough for an invisible man to r=
un about
stark, the evenings are quite chilly. I want clothing--and other accommodat=
ion;
and I must also have those three books."
CHAPTER XII - THE INVISIB=
LE
MAN LOSES HIS TEMPER
It is unavoidable that at this poin=
t the
narrative should break off again, for a certain very painful reason that wi=
ll
presently be apparent. While these things were going on in the parlour, and=
while
Mr. Huxter was watching Mr. Marvel smoking his pipe against the gate, not a
dozen yards away were Mr. Hall and Teddy Henfrey discussing in a state of
cloudy puzzlement the one Iping topic.
Suddenly there ca=
me a
violent thud against the door of the parlour, a sharp cry, and then--silenc=
e.
"Hul-lo!&quo=
t;
said Teddy Henfrey.
"Hul-lo!&quo=
t;
from the Tap.
Mr. Hall took thi=
ngs
in slowly but surely. "That ain't right," he said, and came round
from behind the bar towards the parlour door.
He and Teddy
approached the door together, with intent faces. Their eyes considered.
"Summat wrong," said Hall, and Henfrey nodded agreement. Whiffs o=
f an
unpleasant chemical odour met them, and there was a muffled sound of
conversation, very rapid and subdued.
"You all rig=
ht
thur?" asked Hall, rapping.
The muttered conv=
ersation
ceased abruptly, for a moment silence, then the conversation was resumed, in
hissing whispers, then a sharp cry of "No! no, you don't!" There =
came
a sudden motion and the oversetting of a chair, a brief struggle. Silence
again.
"What the
dooce?" exclaimed Henfrey, sotto voce.
"You--all--r=
ight
thur?" asked Mr. Hall, sharply, again.
The Vicar's voice
answered with a curious jerking intonation: "Quite ri-right. Please
don't--interrupt."
"Odd!" =
said
Mr. Henfrey.
"Odd!" =
said
Mr. Hall.
"Says, 'Don't
interrupt,'" said Henfrey.
"I
heerd'n," said Hall.
"And a
sniff," said Henfrey.
They remained
listening. The conversation was rapid and subdued. "I can't," said
Mr. Bunting, his voice rising; "I tell you, sir, I will not."
"What was
that?" asked Henfrey.
"Says he wi'
nart," said Hall. "Warn't speaking to us, wuz he?"
"Disgraceful=
!"
said Mr. Bunting, within.
"'Disgracefu=
l,'"
said Mr. Henfrey. "I heard it--distinct."
"Who's that
speaking now?" asked Henfrey.
"Mr. Cuss, I
s'pose," said Hall. "Can you hear--anything?"
Silence. The soun=
ds
within indistinct and perplexing.
"Sounds like
throwing the table-cloth about," said Hall.
Mrs. Hall appeared
behind the bar. Hall made gestures of silence and invitation. This aroused =
Mrs.
Hall's wifely opposition. "What yer listenin' there for, Hall?" s=
he
asked. "Ain't you nothin' better to do--busy day like this?"
Hall tried to con=
vey
everything by grimaces and dumb show, but Mrs. Hall was obdurate. She raised
her voice. So Hall and Henfrey, rather crestfallen, tiptoed back to the bar,
gesticulating to explain to her.
At first she refu=
sed
to see anything in what they had heard at all. Then she insisted on Hall
keeping silence, while Henfrey told her his story. She was inclined to think
the whole business nonsense--perhaps they were just moving the furniture ab=
out.
"I heerd'n say 'disgraceful'; that I did," said Hall.
"I heerd tha=
t,
Mrs. Hall," said Henfrey.
"Like as
not--" began Mrs. Hall.
"Hsh!" =
said
Mr. Teddy Henfrey. "Didn't I hear the window?"
"What window=
?"
asked Mrs. Hall.
"Parlour
window," said Henfrey.
Everyone stood
listening intently. Mrs. Hall's eyes, directed straight before her, saw wit=
hout
seeing the brilliant oblong of the inn door, the road white and vivid, and
Huxter's shop-front blistering in the June sun. Abruptly Huxter's door open=
ed
and Huxter appeared, eyes staring with excitement, arms gesticulating.
"Yap!" cried Huxter. "Stop thief!" and he ran obliquely
across the oblong towards the yard gates, and vanished.
Simultaneously ca=
me a
tumult from the parlour, and a sound of windows being closed.
Hall, Henfrey, and
the human contents of the tap rushed out at once pell-mell into the street.
They saw someone whisk round the corner towards the road, and Mr. Huxter
executing a complicated leap in the air that ended on his face and shoulder.
Down the street people were standing astonished or running towards them.
Mr. Huxter was
stunned. Henfrey stopped to discover this, but Hall and the two labourers f=
rom
the Tap rushed at once to the corner, shouting incoherent things, and saw M=
r.
Marvel vanishing by the corner of the church wall. They appear to have jump=
ed
to the impossible conclusion that this was the Invisible Man suddenly become
visible, and set off at once along the lane in pursuit. But Hall had hardly=
run
a dozen yards before he gave a loud shout of astonishment and went flying
headlong sideways, clutching one of the labourers and bringing him to the
ground. He had been charged just as one charges a man at football. The seco=
nd
labourer came round in a circle, stared, and conceiving that Hall had tumbl=
ed over
of his own accord, turned to resume the pursuit, only to be tripped by the
ankle just as Huxter had been. Then, as the first labourer struggled to his
feet, he was kicked sideways by a blow that might have felled an ox.
As he went down, =
the
rush from the direction of the village green came round the corner. The fir=
st
to appear was the proprietor of the cocoanut shy, a burly man in a blue jer=
sey.
He was astonished to see the lane empty save for three men sprawling absurd=
ly
on the ground. And then something happened to his rear-most foot, and he we=
nt
headlong and rolled sideways just in time to graze the feet of his brother =
and
partner, following headlong. The two were then kicked, knelt on, fallen ove=
r,
and cursed by quite a number of over-hasty people.
Now when Hall and
Henfrey and the labourers ran out of the house, Mrs. Hall, who had been
disciplined by years of experience, remained in the bar next the till. And
suddenly the parlour door was opened, and Mr. Cuss appeared, and without
glancing at her rushed at once down the steps toward the corner. "Hold
him!" he cried. "Don't let him drop that parcel."
He knew nothing of
the existence of Marvel. For the Invisible Man had handed over the books and
bundle in the yard. The face of Mr. Cuss was angry and resolute, but his
costume was defective, a sort of limp white kilt that could only have passed
muster in Greece. "Hold him!" he bawled. "He's got my trouse=
rs!
And every stitch of the Vicar's clothes!"
"'Tend to hi=
m in
a minute!" he cried to Henfrey as he passed the prostrate Huxter, and,
coming round the corner to join the tumult, was promptly knocked off his fe=
et
into an indecorous sprawl. Somebody in full flight trod heavily on his fing=
er.
He yelled, struggled to regain his feet, was knocked against and thrown on =
all fours
again, and became aware that he was involved not in a capture, but a rout.
Everyone was running back to the village. He rose again and was hit severely
behind the ear. He staggered and set off back to the "Coach and
Horses" forthwith, leaping over the deserted Huxter, who was now sitti=
ng
up, on his way.
Behind him as he =
was
halfway up the inn steps he heard a sudden yell of rage, rising sharply out=
of
the confusion of cries, and a sounding smack in someone's face. He recognis=
ed
the voice as that of the Invisible Man, and the note was that of a man sudd=
enly
infuriated by a painful blow.
In another moment=
Mr.
Cuss was back in the parlour. "He's coming back, Bunting!" he sai=
d,
rushing in. "Save yourself!"
Mr. Bunting was
standing in the window engaged in an attempt to clothe himself in the
hearth-rug and a West Surrey Gazette. "Who's coming?" he said, so
startled that his costume narrowly escaped disintegration.
"Invisible M=
an,"
said Cuss, and rushed on to the window. "We'd better clear out from he=
re!
He's fighting mad! Mad!"
In another moment=
he
was out in the yard.
"Good
heavens!" said Mr. Bunting, hesitating between two horrible alternativ=
es.
He heard a frightful struggle in the passage of the inn, and his decision w=
as
made. He clambered out of the window, adjusted his costume hastily, and fle=
d up
the village as fast as his fat little legs would carry him.
From the moment w=
hen
the Invisible Man screamed with rage and Mr. Bunting made his memorable fli=
ght
up the village, it became impossible to give a consecutive account of affai=
rs
in Iping. Possibly the Invisible Man's original intention was simply to cov=
er Marvel's
retreat with the clothes and books. But his temper, at no time very good, s=
eems
to have gone completely at some chance blow, and forthwith he set to smiting
and overthrowing, for the mere satisfaction of hurting.
You must figure t=
he
street full of running figures, of doors slamming and fights for hiding-pla=
ces.
You must figure the tumult suddenly striking on the unstable equilibrium of=
old
Fletcher's planks and two chairs--with cataclysmic results. You must figure=
an
appalled couple caught dismally in a swing. And then the whole tumultuous r=
ush
has passed and the Iping street with its gauds and flags is deserted save f=
or
the still raging unseen, and littered with cocoanuts, overthrown canvas
screens, and the scattered stock in trade of a sweetstuff stall. Everywhere
there is a sound of closing shutters and shoving bolts, and the only visible
humanity is an occasional flitting eye under a raised eyebrow in the corner=
of
a window pane.
The Invisible Man
amused himself for a little while by breaking all the windows in the
"Coach and Horses," and then he thrust a street lamp through the
parlour window of Mrs. Gribble. He it must have been who cut the telegraph =
wire
to Adderdean just beyond Higgins' cottage on the Adderdean road. And after
that, as his peculiar qualities allowed, he passed out of human perceptions=
altogether,
and he was neither heard, seen, nor felt in Iping any more. He vanished
absolutely.
But it was the be=
st
part of two hours before any human being ventured out again into the desola=
tion
of Iping street.
CHAPTER XIII- MR. MARVEL
DISCUSSES HIS RESIGNATION
When the dusk was gathering and Ipi=
ng was
just beginning to peep timorously forth again upon the shattered wreckage of
its Bank Holiday, a short, thick-set man in a shabby silk hat was marching =
painfully
through the twilight behind the beechwoods on the road to Bramblehurst. He
carried three books bound together by some sort of ornamental elastic ligat=
ure,
and a bundle wrapped in a blue table-cloth. His rubicund face expressed
consternation and fatigue; he appeared to be in a spasmodic sort of hurry. =
He
was accompanied by a voice other than his own, and ever and again he winced
under the touch of unseen hands.
"If you give=
me
the slip again," said the Voice, "if you attempt to give me the s=
lip
again--"
"Lord!"
said Mr. Marvel. "That shoulder's a mass of bruises as it is."
"On my
honour," said the Voice, "I will kill you."
"I didn't tr=
y to
give you the slip," said Marvel, in a voice that was not far remote fr=
om
tears. "I swear I didn't. I didn't know the blessed turning, that was =
all!
How the devil was I to know the blessed turning? As it is, I've been knocked
about--"
"You'll get
knocked about a great deal more if you don't mind," said the Voice, and
Mr. Marvel abruptly became silent. He blew out his cheeks, and his eyes were
eloquent of despair.
"It's bad en=
ough
to let these floundering yokels explode my little secret, without your cutt=
ing
off with my books. It's lucky for some of them they cut and ran when they d=
id!
Here am I ... No one knew I was invisible! And now what am I to do?"
"What am I to
do?" asked Marvel, sotto voce.
"It's all ab=
out.
It will be in the papers! Everybody will be looking for me; everyone on the=
ir
guard--" The Voice broke off into vivid curses and ceased.
The despair of Mr.
Marvel's face deepened, and his pace slackened.
"Go on!"
said the Voice.
Mr. Marvel's face
assumed a greyish tint between the ruddier patches.
"Don't drop
those books, stupid," said the Voice, sharply--overtaking him.
"The fact
is," said the Voice, "I shall have to make use of you.... You're a
poor tool, but I must."
"I'm a miser=
able
tool," said Marvel.
"You are,&qu=
ot;
said the Voice.
"I'm the wor=
st
possible tool you could have," said Marvel.
"I'm not
strong," he said after a discouraging silence.
"I'm not over
strong," he repeated.
"No?"
"And my hear=
t's
weak. That little business--I pulled it through, of course--but bless you! I
could have dropped."
"Well?"=
"I haven't t=
he
nerve and strength for the sort of thing you want."
"I'll stimul=
ate
you."
"I wish you
wouldn't. I wouldn't like to mess up your plans, you know. But I might--out=
of
sheer funk and misery."
"You'd better
not," said the Voice, with quiet emphasis.
"I wish I was
dead," said Marvel.
"It ain't
justice," he said; "you must admit.... It seems to me I've a perf=
ect
right--"
"Get on!&quo=
t;
said the Voice.
Mr. Marvel mended=
his
pace, and for a time they went in silence again.
"It's devili=
sh
hard," said Mr. Marvel.
This was quite
ineffectual. He tried another tack.
"What do I m=
ake
by it?" he began again in a tone of unendurable wrong.
"Oh! shut
up!" said the Voice, with sudden amazing vigour. "I'll see to you=
all
right. You do what you're told. You'll do it all right. You're a fool and a=
ll
that, but you'll do--"
"I tell you,
sir, I'm not the man for it. Respectfully--but it is so--"
"If you don't
shut up I shall twist your wrist again," said the Invisible Man. "=
;I
want to think."
Presently two obl=
ongs
of yellow light appeared through the trees, and the square tower of a church
loomed through the gloaming. "I shall keep my hand on your shoulder,&q=
uot;
said the Voice, "all through the village. Go straight through and try =
no
foolery. It will be the worse for you if you do."
"I know
that," sighed Mr. Marvel, "I know all that."
The unhappy-looki=
ng
figure in the obsolete silk hat passed up the street of the little village =
with
his burdens, and vanished into the gathering darkness beyond the lights of =
the
windows.
CHAPTER XIV - AT PORT STO=
WE
Ten o'clock the next morning found =
Mr.
Marvel, unshaven, dirty, and travel-stained, sitting with the books beside =
him
and his hands deep in his pockets, looking very weary, nervous, and
uncomfortable, and inflating his cheeks at infrequent intervals, on the ben=
ch
outside a little inn on the outskirts of Port Stowe. Beside him were the bo=
oks,
but now they were tied with string. The bundle had been abandoned in the
pine-woods beyond Bramblehurst, in accordance with a change in the plans of=
the
Invisible Man. Mr. Marvel sat on the bench, and although no one took the
slightest notice of him, his agitation remained at fever heat. His hands wo=
uld
go ever and again to his various pockets with a curious nervous fumbling.
When he had been
sitting for the best part of an hour, however, an elderly mariner, carrying=
a
newspaper, came out of the inn and sat down beside him. "Pleasant
day," said the mariner.
Mr. Marvel glanced
about him with something very like terror. "Very," he said.
"Just season=
able
weather for the time of year," said the mariner, taking no denial.
"Quite,"
said Mr. Marvel.
The mariner produ=
ced
a toothpick, and (saving his regard) was engrossed thereby for some minutes.
His eyes meanwhile were at liberty to examine Mr. Marvel's dusty figure, and
the books beside him. As he had approached Mr. Marvel he had heard a sound =
like
the dropping of coins into a pocket. He was struck by the contrast of Mr.
Marvel's appearance with this suggestion of opulence. Thence his mind wande=
red
back again to a topic that had taken a curiously firm hold of his imaginati=
on.
"Books?"=
; he
said suddenly, noisily finishing with the toothpick.
Mr. Marvel started
and looked at them. "Oh, yes," he said. "Yes, they're
books."
"There's some
extra-ordinary things in books," said the mariner.
"I believe
you," said Mr. Marvel.
"And some
extra-ordinary things out of 'em," said the mariner.
"True
likewise," said Mr. Marvel. He eyed his interlocutor, and then glanced
about him.
"There's some
extra-ordinary things in newspapers, for example," said the mariner.
"There
are."
"In this
newspaper," said the mariner.
"Ah!" s=
aid
Mr. Marvel.
"There's a
story," said the mariner, fixing Mr. Marvel with an eye that was firm =
and
deliberate; "there's a story about an Invisible Man, for instance.&quo=
t;
Mr. Marvel pulled=
his
mouth askew and scratched his cheek and felt his ears glowing. "What w=
ill
they be writing next?" he asked faintly. "Ostria, or America?&quo=
t;
"Neither,&qu=
ot;
said the mariner. "Here."
"Lord!"
said Mr. Marvel, starting.
"When I say
here," said the mariner, to Mr. Marvel's intense relief, "I don't=
of
course mean here in this place, I mean hereabouts."
"An Invisible
Man!" said Mr. Marvel. "And what's he been up to?"
"Everything,=
"
said the mariner, controlling Marvel with his eye, and then amplifying,
"every--blessed--thing."
"I ain't see=
n a
paper these four days," said Marvel.
"Iping's the
place he started at," said the mariner.
"In-deed!&qu=
ot;
said Mr. Marvel.
"He started
there. And where he came from, nobody don't seem to know. Here it is:
'Pe-culiar Story from Iping.' And it says in this paper that the evidence is
extra-ordinary strong--extra-ordinary."
"Lord!"
said Mr. Marvel.
"But then, i=
t's
an extra-ordinary story. There is a clergyman and a medical gent witnesses-=
-saw
'im all right and proper--or leastways didn't see 'im. He was staying, it s=
ays,
at the 'Coach an' Horses,' and no one don't seem to have been aware of his
misfortune, it says, aware of his misfortune, until in an Altercation in the
inn, it says, his bandages on his head was torn off. It was then ob-served =
that
his head was invisible. Attempts were At Once made to secure him, but casti=
ng
off his garments, it says, he succeeded in escaping, but not until after a
desperate struggle, in which he had inflicted serious injuries, it says, on=
our
worthy and able constable, Mr. J. A. Jaffers. Pretty straight story, eh? Na=
mes
and everything."
"Lord!"
said Mr. Marvel, looking nervously about him, trying to count the money in =
his
pockets by his unaided sense of touch, and full of a strange and novel idea.
"It sounds most astonishing."
"Don't it?
Extra-ordinary, I call it. Never heard tell of Invisible Men before, I have=
n't,
but nowadays one hears such a lot of extra-ordinary things--that--"
"That all he
did?" asked Marvel, trying to seem at his ease.
"It's enough,
ain't it?" said the mariner.
"Didn't go B=
ack
by any chance?" asked Marvel. "Just escaped and that's all, eh?&q=
uot;
"All!" =
said
the mariner. "Why!--ain't it enough?"
"Quite
enough," said Marvel.
"I should th=
ink
it was enough," said the mariner. "I should think it was
enough."
"He didn't h=
ave
any pals--it don't say he had any pals, does it?" asked Mr. Marvel,
anxious.
"Ain't one o=
f a
sort enough for you?" asked the mariner. "No, thank Heaven, as one
might say, he didn't."
He nodded his head
slowly. "It makes me regular uncomfortable, the bare thought of that c=
hap
running about the country! He is at present At Large, and from certain evid=
ence
it is supposed that he has--taken--took, I suppose they mean--the road to P=
ort
Stowe. You see we're right in it! None of your American wonders, this time.=
And
just think of the things he might do! Where'd you be, if he took a drop over
and above, and had a fancy to go for you? Suppose he wants to rob--who can
prevent him? He can trespass, he can burgle, he could walk through a cordon=
of
policemen as easy as me or you could give the slip to a blind man! Easier! =
For
these here blind chaps hear uncommon sharp, I'm told. And wherever there was
liquor he fancied--"
"He's got a
tremenjous advantage, certainly," said Mr. Marvel. "And--well...&=
quot;
"You're
right," said the mariner. "He has."
All this time Mr.
Marvel had been glancing about him intently, listening for faint footfalls,
trying to detect imperceptible movements. He seemed on the point of some gr=
eat
resolution. He coughed behind his hand.
He looked about h=
im
again, listened, bent towards the mariner, and lowered his voice: "The
fact of it is--I happen--to know just a thing or two about this Invisible M=
an.
From private sources."
"Oh!" s=
aid
the mariner, interested. "You?"
"Yes," =
said
Mr. Marvel. "Me."
"Indeed!&quo=
t;
said the mariner. "And may I ask--"
"You'll be
astonished," said Mr. Marvel behind his hand. "It's tremenjous.&q=
uot;
"Indeed!&quo=
t;
said the mariner.
"The fact
is," began Mr. Marvel eagerly in a confidential undertone. Suddenly his
expression changed marvellously. "Ow!" he said. He rose stiffly in
his seat. His face was eloquent of physical suffering. "Wow!" he
said.
"What's
up?" said the mariner, concerned.
"Toothache,&=
quot;
said Mr. Marvel, and put his hand to his ear. He caught hold of his books.
"I must be getting on, I think," he said. He edged in a curious w=
ay
along the seat away from his interlocutor. "But you was just a-going to
tell me about this here Invisible Man!" protested the mariner. Mr. Mar=
vel
seemed to consult with himself. "Hoax," said a Voice. "It's a
hoax," said Mr. Marvel.
"But it's in=
the
paper," said the mariner.
"Hoax all the
same," said Marvel. "I know the chap that started the lie. There
ain't no Invisible Man whatsoever--Blimey."
"But how 'bo=
ut
this paper? D'you mean to say--?"
"Not a word =
of
it," said Marvel, stoutly.
The mariner stare=
d,
paper in hand. Mr. Marvel jerkily faced about. "Wait a bit," said=
the
mariner, rising and speaking slowly, "D'you mean to say--?"
"I do,"
said Mr. Marvel.
"Then why did
you let me go on and tell you all this blarsted stuff, then? What d'yer mea=
n by
letting a man make a fool of himself like that for? Eh?"
Mr. Marvel blew o=
ut
his cheeks. The mariner was suddenly very red indeed; he clenched his hands.
"I been talking here this ten minutes," he said; "and you, y=
ou
little pot-bellied, leathery-faced son of an old boot, couldn't have the
elementary manners--"
"Don't you c=
ome
bandying words with me," said Mr. Marvel.
"Bandying wo=
rds!
I'm a jolly good mind--"
"Come up,&qu=
ot;
said a Voice, and Mr. Marvel was suddenly whirled about and started marching
off in a curious spasmodic manner. "You'd better move on," said t=
he
mariner. "Who's moving on?" said Mr. Marvel. He was receding
obliquely with a curious hurrying gait, with occasional violent jerks forwa=
rd.
Some way along the road he began a muttered monologue, protests and
recriminations.
"Silly
devil!" said the mariner, legs wide apart, elbows akimbo, watching the
receding figure. "I'll show you, you silly ass--hoaxing me! It's here-=
-on
the paper!"
Mr. Marvel retort=
ed
incoherently and, receding, was hidden by a bend in the road, but the marin=
er
still stood magnificent in the midst of the way, until the approach of a
butcher's cart dislodged him. Then he turned himself towards Port Stowe.
"Full of extra-ordinary asses," he said softly to himself. "=
Just
to take me down a bit--that was his silly game--It's on the paper!"
And there was ano=
ther
extraordinary thing he was presently to hear, that had happened quite close=
to
him. And that was a vision of a "fist full of money" (no less) tr=
avelling
without visible agency, along by the wall at the corner of St. Michael's La=
ne.
A brother mariner had seen this wonderful sight that very morning. He had s=
natched
at the money forthwith and had been knocked headlong, and when he had got to
his feet the butterfly money had vanished. Our mariner was in the mood to
believe anything, he declared, but that was a bit too stiff. Afterwards,
however, he began to think things over.
The story of the
flying money was true. And all about that neighbourhood, even from the augu=
st
London and Country Banking Company, from the tills of shops and inns--doors
standing that sunny weather entirely open--money had been quietly and
dexterously making off that day in handfuls and rouleaux, floating quietly
along by walls and shady places, dodging quickly from the approaching eyes =
of men.
And it had, though no man had traced it, invariably ended its mysterious fl=
ight
in the pocket of that agitated gentleman in the obsolete silk hat, sitting
outside the little inn on the outskirts of Port Stowe.
It was ten days
after--and indeed only when the Burdock story was already old--that the mar=
iner
collated these facts and began to understand how near he had been to the
wonderful Invisible Man.
CHAPTER XV - THE MAN WHO =
WAS
RUNNING
In the early evening time Dr. Kemp =
was
sitting in his study in the belvedere on the hill overlooking Burdock. It w=
as a
pleasant little room, with three windows--north, west, and south--and
bookshelves covered with books and scientific publications, and a broad wri=
ting-table,
and, under the north window, a microscope, glass slips, minute instruments,
some cultures, and scattered bottles of reagents. Dr. Kemp's solar lamp was
lit, albeit the sky was still bright with the sunset light, and his blinds =
were
up because there was no offence of peering outsiders to require them pulled
down. Dr. Kemp was a tall and slender young man, with flaxen hair and a mou=
stache
almost white, and the work he was upon would earn him, he hoped, the fellow=
ship
of the Royal Society, so highly did he think of it.
And his eye,
presently wandering from his work, caught the sunset blazing at the back of=
the
hill that is over against his own. For a minute perhaps he sat, pen in mout=
h,
admiring the rich golden colour above the crest, and then his attention was
attracted by the little figure of a man, inky black, running over the hill-=
brow
towards him. He was a shortish little man, and he wore a high hat, and he w=
as
running so fast that his legs verily twinkled.
"Another of
those fools," said Dr. Kemp. "Like that ass who ran into me this
morning round a corner, with the ''Visible Man a-coming, sir!' I can't imag=
ine
what possess people. One might think we were in the thirteenth century.&quo=
t;
He got up, went to
the window, and stared at the dusky hillside, and the dark little figure
tearing down it. "He seems in a confounded hurry," said Dr. Kemp,
"but he doesn't seem to be getting on. If his pockets were full of lea=
d,
he couldn't run heavier."
"Spurted,
sir," said Dr. Kemp.
In another moment=
the
higher of the villas that had clambered up the hill from Burdock had occult=
ed
the running figure. He was visible again for a moment, and again, and then
again, three times between the three detached houses that came next, and th=
en
the terrace hid him.
"Asses!"
said Dr. Kemp, swinging round on his heel and walking back to his
writing-table.
But those who saw=
the
fugitive nearer, and perceived the abject terror on his perspiring face, be=
ing
themselves in the open roadway, did not share in the doctor's contempt. By =
the
man pounded, and as he ran he chinked like a well-filled purse that is toss=
ed
to and fro. He looked neither to the right nor the left, but his dilated ey=
es
stared straight downhill to where the lamps were being lit, and the people =
were
crowded in the street. And his ill-shaped mouth fell apart, and a glairy fo=
am
lay on his lips, and his breath came hoarse and noisy. All he passed stopped
and began staring up the road and down, and interrogating one another with =
an
inkling of discomfort for the reason of his haste.
And then presentl=
y,
far up the hill, a dog playing in the road yelped and ran under a gate, and=
as
they still wondered something--a wind--a pad, pad, pad,--a sound like a pan=
ting
breathing, rushed by.
People screamed.
People sprang off the pavement: It passed in shouts, it passed by instinct =
down
the hill. They were shouting in the street before Marvel was halfway there.
They were bolting into houses and slamming the doors behind them, with the
news. He heard it and made one last desperate spurt. Fear came striding by,
rushed ahead of him, and in a moment had seized the town.
"The Invisib=
le
Man is coming! The Invisible Man!"
CHAPTER XVI - IN THE
"JOLLY CRICKETERS"
The "Jolly Cricketers" is=
just
at the bottom of the hill, where the tram-lines begin. The barman leant his=
fat
red arms on the counter and talked of horses with an anaemic cabman, while a
black-bearded man in grey snapped up biscuit and cheese, drank Burton, and =
conversed
in American with a policeman off duty.
"What's the
shouting about!" said the anaemic cabman, going off at a tangent, tryi=
ng
to see up the hill over the dirty yellow blind in the low window of the inn.
Somebody ran by outside. "Fire, perhaps," said the barman.
Footsteps approac=
hed,
running heavily, the door was pushed open violently, and Marvel, weeping and
dishevelled, his hat gone, the neck of his coat torn open, rushed in, made a
convulsive turn, and attempted to shut the door. It was held half open by a
strap.
"Coming!&quo=
t;
he bawled, his voice shrieking with terror. "He's coming. The 'Visible
Man! After me! For Gawd's sake! 'Elp! 'Elp! 'Elp!"
"Shut the
doors," said the policeman. "Who's coming? What's the row?" =
He
went to the door, released the strap, and it slammed. The American closed t=
he
other door.
"Lemme go
inside," said Marvel, staggering and weeping, but still clutching the
books. "Lemme go inside. Lock me in--somewhere. I tell you he's after =
me.
I give him the slip. He said he'd kill me and he will."
"You're
safe," said the man with the black beard. "The door's shut. What'=
s it
all about?"
"Lemme go
inside," said Marvel, and shrieked aloud as a blow suddenly made the
fastened door shiver and was followed by a hurried rapping and a shouting
outside. "Hullo," cried the policeman, "who's there?" M=
r.
Marvel began to make frantic dives at panels that looked like doors.
"He'll kill me--he's got a knife or something. For Gawd's sake--!"=
;
"Here you
are," said the barman. "Come in here." And he held up the fl=
ap
of the bar.
Mr. Marvel rushed
behind the bar as the summons outside was repeated. "Don't open the
door," he screamed. "Please don't open the door. Where shall I
hide?"
"This, this
Invisible Man, then?" asked the man with the black beard, with one hand
behind him. "I guess it's about time we saw him."
The window of the=
inn
was suddenly smashed in, and there was a screaming and running to and fro in
the street. The policeman had been standing on the settee staring out, cran=
ing
to see who was at the door. He got down with raised eyebrows. "It's th=
at,"
he said. The barman stood in front of the bar-parlour door which was now lo=
cked
on Mr. Marvel, stared at the smashed window, and came round to the two other
men.
Everything was
suddenly quiet. "I wish I had my truncheon," said the policeman,
going irresolutely to the door. "Once we open, in he comes. There's no
stopping him."
"Don't you b=
e in
too much hurry about that door," said the anaemic cabman, anxiously.
"Draw the
bolts," said the man with the black beard, "and if he comes--&quo=
t;
He showed a revolver in his hand.
"That won't
do," said the policeman; "that's murder."
"I know what
country I'm in," said the man with the beard. "I'm going to let o=
ff
at his legs. Draw the bolts."
"Not with th=
at
blinking thing going off behind me," said the barman, craning over the
blind.
"Very
well," said the man with the black beard, and stooping down, revolver
ready, drew them himself. Barman, cabman, and policeman faced about.
"Come in,&qu=
ot;
said the bearded man in an undertone, standing back and facing the unbolted=
doors
with his pistol behind him. No one came in, the door remained closed. Five
minutes afterwards when a second cabman pushed his head in cautiously, they
were still waiting, and an anxious face peered out of the bar-parlour and
supplied information. "Are all the doors of the house shut?" asked
Marvel. "He's going round--prowling round. He's as artful as the
devil."
"Good
Lord!" said the burly barman. "There's the back! Just watch them
doors! I say--!" He looked about him helplessly. The bar-parlour door =
slammed
and they heard the key turn. "There's the yard door and the private do=
or.
The yard door--"
He rushed out of =
the
bar.
In a minute he
reappeared with a carving-knife in his hand. "The yard door was
open!" he said, and his fat underlip dropped. "He may be in the h=
ouse
now!" said the first cabman.
"He's not in=
the
kitchen," said the barman. "There's two women there, and I've sta=
bbed
every inch of it with this little beef slicer. And they don't think he's co=
me
in. They haven't noticed--"
"Have you fa=
stened
it?" asked the first cabman.
"I'm out of
frocks," said the barman.
The man with the
beard replaced his revolver. And even as he did so the flap of the bar was =
shut
down and the bolt clicked, and then with a tremendous thud the catch of the
door snapped and the bar-parlour door burst open. They heard Marvel squeal =
like
a caught leveret, and forthwith they were clambering over the bar to his re=
scue.
The bearded man's revolver cracked and the looking-glass at the back of the
parlour starred and came smashing and tinkling down.
As the barman ent=
ered
the room he saw Marvel, curiously crumpled up and struggling against the do=
or
that led to the yard and kitchen. The door flew open while the barman
hesitated, and Marvel was dragged into the kitchen. There was a scream and a
clatter of pans. Marvel, head down, and lugging back obstinately, was force=
d to
the kitchen door, and the bolts were drawn.
Then the policema=
n,
who had been trying to pass the barman, rushed in, followed by one of the
cabmen, gripped the wrist of the invisible hand that collared Marvel, was h=
it
in the face and went reeling back. The door opened, and Marvel made a frant=
ic
effort to obtain a lodgment behind it. Then the cabman collared something. =
"I
got him," said the cabman. The barman's red hands came clawing at the
unseen. "Here he is!" said the barman.
Mr. Marvel, relea=
sed,
suddenly dropped to the ground and made an attempt to crawl behind the legs=
of
the fighting men. The struggle blundered round the edge of the door. The vo=
ice
of the Invisible Man was heard for the first time, yelling out sharply, as =
the policeman
trod on his foot. Then he cried out passionately and his fists flew round l=
ike
flails. The cabman suddenly whooped and doubled up, kicked under the diaphr=
agm.
The door into the bar-parlour from the kitchen slammed and covered Mr. Marv=
el's
retreat. The men in the kitchen found themselves clutching at and struggling
with empty air.
"Where's he
gone?" cried the man with the beard. "Out?"
"This way,&q=
uot;
said the policeman, stepping into the yard and stopping.
A piece of tile
whizzed by his head and smashed among the crockery on the kitchen table.
"I'll show
him," shouted the man with the black beard, and suddenly a steel barrel
shone over the policeman's shoulder, and five bullets had followed one anot=
her
into the twilight whence the missile had come. As he fired, the man with the
beard moved his hand in a horizontal curve, so that his shots radiated out =
into
the narrow yard like spokes from a wheel.
A silence followe=
d.
"Five cartridges," said the man with the black beard. "That's
the best of all. Four aces and a joker. Get a lantern, someone, and come and
feel about for his body."
CHAPTER XVII - DR. KEMP'S
VISITOR
Dr. Kemp had continued writing in h=
is
study until the shots aroused him. Crack, crack, crack, they came one after=
the
other.
"Hullo!"
said Dr. Kemp, putting his pen into his mouth again and listening. "Wh=
o's
letting off revolvers in Burdock? What are the asses at now?"
He went to the so=
uth
window, threw it up, and leaning out stared down on the network of windows,
beaded gas-lamps and shops, with its black interstices of roof and yard that
made up the town at night. "Looks like a crowd down the hill," he
said, "by 'The Cricketers,'" and remained watching. Thence his ey=
es
wandered over the town to far away where the ships' lights shone, and the p=
ier
glowed--a little illuminated, facetted pavilion like a gem of yellow light.=
The
moon in its first quarter hung over the westward hill, and the stars were c=
lear
and almost tropically bright.
After five minute=
s,
during which his mind had travelled into a remote speculation of social
conditions of the future, and lost itself at last over the time dimension, =
Dr.
Kemp roused himself with a sigh, pulled down the window again, and returned=
to
his writing desk.
It must have been
about an hour after this that the front-door bell rang. He had been writing
slackly, and with intervals of abstraction, since the shots. He sat listeni=
ng.
He heard the servant answer the door, and waited for her feet on the stairc=
ase,
but she did not come. "Wonder what that was," said Dr. Kemp.
He tried to resume
his work, failed, got up, went downstairs from his study to the landing, ra=
ng,
and called over the balustrade to the housemaid as she appeared in the hall
below. "Was that a letter?" he asked.
"Only a runa=
way
ring, sir," she answered.
"I'm restless
to-night," he said to himself. He went back to his study, and this time
attacked his work resolutely. In a little while he was hard at work again, =
and the
only sounds in the room were the ticking of the clock and the subdued
shrillness of his quill, hurrying in the very centre of the circle of light=
his
lampshade threw on his table.
It was two o'clock
before Dr. Kemp had finished his work for the night. He rose, yawned, and w=
ent
downstairs to bed. He had already removed his coat and vest, when he noticed
that he was thirsty. He took a candle and went down to the dining-room in
search of a syphon and whiskey.
Dr. Kemp's scient=
ific
pursuits have made him a very observant man, and as he recrossed the hall, =
he
noticed a dark spot on the linoleum near the mat at the foot of the stairs.=
He
went on upstairs, and then it suddenly occurred to him to ask himself what =
the
spot on the linoleum might be. Apparently some subconscious element was at
work. At any rate, he turned with his burden, went back to the hall, put do=
wn
the syphon and whiskey, and bending down, touched the spot. Without any gre=
at
surprise he found it had the stickiness and colour of drying blood.
He took up his bu=
rden
again, and returned upstairs, looking about him and trying to account for t=
he
blood-spot. On the landing he saw something and stopped astonished. The
door-handle of his own room was blood-stained.
He looked at his =
own
hand. It was quite clean, and then he remembered that the door of his room =
had
been open when he came down from his study, and that consequently he had not
touched the handle at all. He went straight into his room, his face quite
calm--perhaps a trifle more resolute than usual. His glance, wandering inqu=
isitively,
fell on the bed. On the counterpane was a mess of blood, and the sheet had =
been
torn. He had not noticed this before because he had walked straight to the
dressing-table. On the further side the bedclothes were depressed as if som=
eone
had been recently sitting there.
Then he had an odd
impression that he had heard a low voice say, "Good Heavens!--Kemp!&qu=
ot;
But Dr. Kemp was no believer in voices.
He stood staring =
at
the tumbled sheets. Was that really a voice? He looked about again, but not=
iced
nothing further than the disordered and blood-stained bed. Then he distinct=
ly
heard a movement across the room, near the wash-hand stand. All men, however
highly educated, retain some superstitious inklings. The feeling that is ca=
lled
"eerie" came upon him. He closed the door of the room, came forwa=
rd
to the dressing-table, and put down his burdens. Suddenly, with a start, he
perceived a coiled and blood-stained bandage of linen rag hanging in mid-ai=
r,
between him and the wash-hand stand.
He stared at this=
in
amazement. It was an empty bandage, a bandage properly tied but quite empty=
. He
would have advanced to grasp it, but a touch arrested him, and a voice spea=
king
quite close to him.
"Kemp!"
said the Voice.
"Eh?" s=
aid
Kemp, with his mouth open.
"Keep your
nerve," said the Voice. "I'm an Invisible Man."
Kemp made no answ=
er
for a space, simply stared at the bandage. "Invisible Man," he sa=
id.
"I am an
Invisible Man," repeated the Voice.
The story he had =
been
active to ridicule only that morning rushed through Kemp's brain. He does n=
ot
appear to have been either very much frightened or very greatly surprised at
the moment. Realisation came later.
"I thought it
was all a lie," he said. The thought uppermost in his mind was the
reiterated arguments of the morning. "Have you a bandage on?" he
asked.
"Yes," =
said
the Invisible Man.
"Oh!" s=
aid
Kemp, and then roused himself. "I say!" he said. "But this is
nonsense. It's some trick." He stepped forward suddenly, and his hand,=
extended
towards the bandage, met invisible fingers.
He recoiled at the
touch and his colour changed.
"Keep steady,
Kemp, for God's sake! I want help badly. Stop!"
The hand gripped =
his
arm. He struck at it.
"Kemp!"
cried the Voice. "Kemp! Keep steady!" and the grip tightened.
A frantic desire =
to
free himself took possession of Kemp. The hand of the bandaged arm gripped =
his
shoulder, and he was suddenly tripped and flung backwards upon the bed. He
opened his mouth to shout, and the corner of the sheet was thrust between h=
is
teeth. The Invisible Man had him down grimly, but his arms were free and he
struck and tried to kick savagely.
"Listen to
reason, will you?" said the Invisible Man, sticking to him in spite of=
a
pounding in the ribs. "By Heaven! you'll madden me in a minute!
"Lie still, =
you
fool!" bawled the Invisible Man in Kemp's ear.
Kemp struggled for
another moment and then lay still.
"If you shou=
t,
I'll smash your face," said the Invisible Man, relieving his mouth.
"I'm an
Invisible Man. It's no foolishness, and no magic. I really am an Invisible =
Man.
And I want your help. I don't want to hurt you, but if you behave like a
frantic rustic, I must. Don't you remember me, Kemp? Griffin, of University
College?"
"Let me get
up," said Kemp. "I'll stop where I am. And let me sit quiet for a
minute."
He sat up and felt
his neck.
"I am Griffi=
n,
of University College, and I have made myself invisible. I am just an ordin=
ary
man--a man you have known--made invisible."
"Griffin?&qu=
ot;
said Kemp.
"Griffin,&qu=
ot;
answered the Voice. A younger student than you were, almost an albino, six =
feet
high, and broad, with a pink and white face and red eyes, who won the medal=
for
chemistry."
"I am
confused," said Kemp. "My brain is rioting. What has this to do w=
ith
Griffin?"
"I am
Griffin."
Kemp thought.
"It's horrible," he said. "But what devilry must happen to m=
ake
a man invisible?"
"It's no
devilry. It's a process, sane and intelligible enough--"
"It's
horrible!" said Kemp. "How on earth--?"
"It's horrib=
le
enough. But I'm wounded and in pain, and tired ... Great God! Kemp, you are=
a
man. Take it steady. Give me some food and drink, and let me sit down
here."
Kemp stared at the
bandage as it moved across the room, then saw a basket chair dragged across=
the
floor and come to rest near the bed. It creaked, and the seat was depressed=
the
quarter of an inch or so. He rubbed his eyes and felt his neck again.
"This beats ghosts," he said, and laughed stupidly.
"That's bett=
er.
Thank Heaven, you're getting sensible!"
"Or silly,&q=
uot;
said Kemp, and knuckled his eyes.
"Give me some
whiskey. I'm near dead."
"It didn't f=
eel
so. Where are you? If I get up shall I run into you? There! all right. Whis=
key?
Here. Where shall I give it to you?"
The chair creaked=
and
Kemp felt the glass drawn away from him. He let go by an effort; his instin=
ct
was all against it. It came to rest poised twenty inches above the front ed=
ge
of the seat of the chair. He stared at it in infinite perplexity. "This
is--this must be--hypnotism. You have suggested you are invisible."
"Nonsense,&q=
uot;
said the Voice.
"It's
frantic."
"Listen to
me."
"I demonstra=
ted
conclusively this morning," began Kemp, "that invisibility--"=
;
"Never mind =
what
you've demonstrated!--I'm starving," said the Voice, "and the nig=
ht
is chilly to a man without clothes."
"Food?"
said Kemp.
The tumbler of
whiskey tilted itself. "Yes," said the Invisible Man rapping it d=
own.
"Have you a dressing-gown?"
Kemp made some
exclamation in an undertone. He walked to a wardrobe and produced a robe of=
dingy
scarlet. "This do?" he asked. It was taken from him. It hung limp=
for
a moment in mid-air, fluttered weirdly, stood full and decorous buttoning
itself, and sat down in his chair. "Drawers, socks, slippers would be a
comfort," said the Unseen, curtly. "And food."
"Anything. B=
ut
this is the insanest thing I ever was in, in my life!"
He turned out his
drawers for the articles, and then went downstairs to ransack his larder. He
came back with some cold cutlets and bread, pulled up a light table, and pl=
aced
them before his guest. "Never mind knives," said his visitor, and=
a
cutlet hung in mid-air, with a sound of gnawing.
"Invisible!&=
quot;
said Kemp, and sat down on a bedroom chair.
"I always li=
ke
to get something about me before I eat," said the Invisible Man, with a
full mouth, eating greedily. "Queer fancy!"
"I suppose t=
hat
wrist is all right," said Kemp.
"Trust me,&q=
uot;
said the Invisible Man.
"Of all the
strange and wonderful--"
"Exactly. But
it's odd I should blunder into your house to get my bandaging. My first str=
oke
of luck! Anyhow I meant to sleep in this house to-night. You must stand tha=
t!
It's a filthy nuisance, my blood showing, isn't it? Quite a clot over there.
Gets visible as it coagulates, I see. It's only the living tissue I've chan=
ged,
and only for as long as I'm alive.... I've been in the house three hours.&q=
uot;
"But how's it
done?" began Kemp, in a tone of exasperation. "Confound it! The w=
hole
business--it's unreasonable from beginning to end."
"Quite
reasonable," said the Invisible Man. "Perfectly reasonable."=
He reached over a=
nd
secured the whiskey bottle. Kemp stared at the devouring dressing gown. A r=
ay
of candle-light penetrating a torn patch in the right shoulder, made a tria=
ngle
of light under the left ribs. "What were the shots?" he asked.
"How did the shooting begin?"
"There was a
real fool of a man--a sort of confederate of mine--curse him!--who tried to
steal my money. Has done so."
"Is he invis=
ible
too?"
"No."
"Well?"=
"Can't I have
some more to eat before I tell you all that? I'm hungry--in pain. And you w=
ant
me to tell stories!"
Kemp got up.
"You didn't do any shooting?" he asked.
"Not me,&quo=
t;
said his visitor. "Some fool I'd never seen fired at random. A lot of =
them
got scared. They all got scared at me. Curse them!--I say--I want more to e=
at
than this, Kemp."
"I'll see wh=
at
there is to eat downstairs," said Kemp. "Not much, I'm afraid.&qu=
ot;
After he had done
eating, and he made a heavy meal, the Invisible Man demanded a cigar. He bit
the end savagely before Kemp could find a knife, and cursed when the outer =
leaf
loosened. It was strange to see him smoking; his mouth, and throat, pharynx=
and
nares, became visible as a sort of whirling smoke cast.
"This blessed
gift of smoking!" he said, and puffed vigorously. "I'm lucky to h=
ave
fallen upon you, Kemp. You must help me. Fancy tumbling on you just now! I'=
m in
a devilish scrape--I've been mad, I think. The things I have been through! =
But
we will do things yet. Let me tell you--"
He helped himself=
to
more whiskey and soda. Kemp got up, looked about him, and fetched a glass f=
rom
his spare room. "It's wild--but I suppose I may drink."
"You haven't
changed much, Kemp, these dozen years. You fair men don't. Cool and
methodical--after the first collapse. I must tell you. We will work togethe=
r!"
"But how was=
it
all done?" said Kemp, "and how did you get like this?"
"For God's s=
ake,
let me smoke in peace for a little while! And then I will begin to tell
you."
But the story was=
not
told that night. The Invisible Man's wrist was growing painful; he was
feverish, exhausted, and his mind came round to brood upon his chase down t=
he
hill and the struggle about the inn. He spoke in fragments of Marvel, he sm=
oked
faster, his voice grew angry. Kemp tried to gather what he could.
"He was afra=
id
of me, I could see that he was afraid of me," said the Invisible Man m=
any
times over. "He meant to give me the slip--he was always casting about!
What a fool I was!
"The cur!
"I should ha=
ve
killed him!"
"Where did y=
ou
get the money?" asked Kemp, abruptly.
The Invisible Man=
was
silent for a space. "I can't tell you to-night," he said.
He groaned sudden=
ly
and leant forward, supporting his invisible head on invisible hands.
"Kemp," he said, "I've had no sleep for near three days, exc=
ept
a couple of dozes of an hour or so. I must sleep soon."
"Well, have =
my
room--have this room."
"But how can=
I
sleep? If I sleep--he will get away. Ugh! What does it matter?"
"What's the =
shot
wound?" asked Kemp, abruptly.
"Nothing--sc=
ratch
and blood. Oh, God! How I want sleep!"
"Why not?&qu=
ot;
The Invisible Man
appeared to be regarding Kemp. "Because I've a particular objection to
being caught by my fellow-men," he said slowly.
Kemp started.
"Fool that I
am!" said the Invisible Man, striking the table smartly. "I've put
the idea into your head."
CHAPTER XVIII - THE INVIS=
IBLE
MAN SLEEPS
Exhausted and wounded as the Invisi=
ble
Man was, he refused to accept Kemp's word that his freedom should be respec=
ted.
He examined the two windows of the bedroom, drew up the blinds and opened t=
he sashes,
to confirm Kemp's statement that a retreat by them would be possible. Outsi=
de
the night was very quiet and still, and the new moon was setting over the d=
own.
Then he examined the keys of the bedroom and the two dressing-room doors, to
satisfy himself that these also could be made an assurance of freedom. Fina=
lly
he expressed himself satisfied. He stood on the hearth rug and Kemp heard t=
he
sound of a yawn.
"I'm
sorry," said the Invisible Man, "if I cannot tell you all that I =
have
done to-night. But I am worn out. It's grotesque, no doubt. It's horrible! =
But
believe me, Kemp, in spite of your arguments of this morning, it is quite a
possible thing. I have made a discovery. I meant to keep it to myself. I ca=
n't.
I must have a partner. And you.... We can do such things ... But to-morrow.
Now, Kemp, I feel as though I must sleep or perish."
Kemp stood in the
middle of the room staring at the headless garment. "I suppose I must
leave you," he said. "It's--incredible. Three things happening li=
ke
this, overturning all my preconceptions--would make me insane. But it's rea=
l!
Is there anything more that I can get you?"
"Only bid me
good-night," said Griffin.
"Good-night,=
"
said Kemp, and shook an invisible hand. He walked sideways to the door.
Suddenly the dressing-gown walked quickly towards him. "Understand
me!" said the dressing-gown. "No attempts to hamper me, or capture
me! Or--"
Kemp's face chang=
ed a
little. "I thought I gave you my word," he said.
Kemp closed the d=
oor
softly behind him, and the key was turned upon him forthwith. Then, as he s=
tood
with an expression of passive amazement on his face, the rapid feet came to=
the
door of the dressing-room and that too was locked. Kemp slapped his brow wi=
th his
hand. "Am I dreaming? Has the world gone mad--or have I?"
He laughed, and p=
ut
his hand to the locked door. "Barred out of my own bedroom, by a flagr=
ant
absurdity!" he said.
He walked to the =
head
of the staircase, turned, and stared at the locked doors. "It's
fact," he said. He put his fingers to his slightly bruised neck.
"Undeniable fact!
"But--"=
He shook his head
hopelessly, turned, and went downstairs.
He lit the
dining-room lamp, got out a cigar, and began pacing the room, ejaculating. =
Now
and then he would argue with himself.
"Invisible!&=
quot;
he said.
"Is there su=
ch a
thing as an invisible animal? ... In the sea, yes. Thousands--millions. All=
the
larvae, all the little nauplii and tornarias, all the microscopic things, t=
he
jelly-fish. In the sea there are more things invisible than visible! I never
thought of that before. And in the ponds too! All those little pond-life th=
ings--specks
of colourless translucent jelly! But in air? No!
"It can't be=
.
"But after
all--why not?
"If a man was
made of glass he would still be visible."
His meditation be=
came
profound. The bulk of three cigars had passed into the invisible or diffuse=
d as
a white ash over the carpet before he spoke again. Then it was merely an
exclamation. He turned aside, walked out of the room, and went into his lit=
tle
consulting-room and lit the gas there. It was a little room, because Dr. Ke=
mp
did not live by practice, and in it were the day's newspapers. The morning'=
s paper
lay carelessly opened and thrown aside. He caught it up, turned it over, and
read the account of a "Strange Story from Iping" that the mariner=
at
Port Stowe had spelt over so painfully to Mr. Marvel. Kemp read it swiftly.=
"Wrapped
up!" said Kemp. "Disguised! Hiding it! 'No one seems to have been
aware of his misfortune.' What the devil is his game?"
He dropped the pa=
per,
and his eye went seeking. "Ah!" he said, and caught up the St. Ja=
mes'
Gazette, lying folded up as it arrived. "Now we shall get at the
truth," said Dr. Kemp. He rent the paper open; a couple of columns
confronted him. "An Entire Village in Sussex goes Mad" was the
heading.
"Good
Heavens!" said Kemp, reading eagerly an incredulous account of the eve=
nts
in Iping, of the previous afternoon, that have already been described. Over=
the
leaf the report in the morning paper had been reprinted.
He re-read it.
"Ran through the streets striking right and left. Jaffers insensible. =
Mr.
Huxter in great pain--still unable to describe what he saw. Painful
humiliation--vicar. Woman ill with terror! Windows smashed. This extraordin=
ary
story probably a fabrication. Too good not to print--cum grano!"
He dropped the pa=
per
and stared blankly in front of him. "Probably a fabrication!"
He caught up the
paper again, and re-read the whole business. "But when does the Tramp =
come
in? Why the deuce was he chasing a tramp?"
He sat down abrup=
tly
on the surgical bench. "He's not only invisible," he said, "=
but
he's mad! Homicidal!"
When dawn came to
mingle its pallor with the lamp-light and cigar smoke of the dining-room, K=
emp
was still pacing up and down, trying to grasp the incredible.
He was altogether=
too
excited to sleep. His servants, descending sleepily, discovered him, and we=
re
inclined to think that over-study had worked this ill on him. He gave them
extraordinary but quite explicit instructions to lay breakfast for two in t=
he belvedere
study--and then to confine themselves to the basement and ground-floor. The=
n he
continued to pace the dining-room until the morning's paper came. That had =
much
to say and little to tell, beyond the confirmation of the evening before, a=
nd a
very badly written account of another remarkable tale from Port Burdock. Th=
is gave
Kemp the essence of the happenings at the "Jolly Cricketers," and=
the
name of Marvel. "He has made me keep with him twenty-four hours,"
Marvel testified. Certain minor facts were added to the Iping story, notably
the cutting of the village telegraph-wire. But there was nothing to throw l=
ight
on the connexion between the Invisible Man and the Tramp; for Mr. Marvel had
supplied no information about the three books, or the money with which he w=
as lined.
The incredulous tone had vanished and a shoal of reporters and inquirers we=
re
already at work elaborating the matter.
Kemp read every s=
crap
of the report and sent his housemaid out to get everyone of the morning pap=
ers
she could. These also he devoured.
"He is
invisible!" he said. "And it reads like rage growing to mania! The
things he may do! The things he may do! And he's upstairs free as the air. =
What
on earth ought I to do?"
"For instanc=
e,
would it be a breach of faith if--? No."
He went to a litt=
le
untidy desk in the corner, and began a note. He tore this up half written, =
and
wrote another. He read it over and considered it. Then he took an envelope =
and
addressed it to "Colonel Adye, Port Burdock."
The Invisible Man
awoke even as Kemp was doing this. He awoke in an evil temper, and Kemp, al=
ert
for every sound, heard his pattering feet rush suddenly across the bedroom
overhead. Then a chair was flung over and the wash-hand stand tumbler smash=
ed.
Kemp hurried upstairs and rapped eagerly.
CHAPTER XIX - CERTAIN FIR=
ST
PRINCIPLES
"What's the matter?" asked
Kemp, when the Invisible Man admitted him.
"Nothing,&qu=
ot;
was the answer.
"But, confou=
nd
it! The smash?"
"Fit of
temper," said the Invisible Man. "Forgot this arm; and it's sore.=
"
"You're rath=
er
liable to that sort of thing."
"I am."=
Kemp walked across
the room and picked up the fragments of broken glass. "All the facts a=
re
out about you," said Kemp, standing up with the glass in his hand;
"all that happened in Iping, and down the hill. The world has become a=
ware
of its invisible citizen. But no one knows you are here."
The Invisible Man
swore.
"The secret's
out. I gather it was a secret. I don't know what your plans are, but of cou=
rse
I'm anxious to help you."
The Invisible Man=
sat
down on the bed.
"There's
breakfast upstairs," said Kemp, speaking as easily as possible, and he=
was
delighted to find his strange guest rose willingly. Kemp led the way up the
narrow staircase to the belvedere.
"Before we c=
an
do anything else," said Kemp, "I must understand a little more ab=
out
this invisibility of yours." He had sat down, after one nervous glance=
out
of the window, with the air of a man who has talking to do. His doubts of t=
he
sanity of the entire business flashed and vanished again as he looked acros=
s to
where Griffin sat at the breakfast-table--a headless, handless dressing-gow=
n,
wiping unseen lips on a miraculously held serviette.
"It's simple
enough--and credible enough," said Griffin, putting the serviette aside
and leaning the invisible head on an invisible hand.
"No doubt, to
you, but--" Kemp laughed.
"Well, yes; =
to
me it seemed wonderful at first, no doubt. But now, great God! ... But we w=
ill
do great things yet! I came on the stuff first at Chesilstowe."
"Chesilstowe=
?"
"I went there
after I left London. You know I dropped medicine and took up physics? No; w=
ell,
I did. Light fascinated me."
"Ah!"
"Optical
density! The whole subject is a network of riddles--a network with solutions
glimmering elusively through. And being but two-and-twenty and full of
enthusiasm, I said, 'I will devote my life to this. This is worth while.' Y=
ou
know what fools we are at two-and-twenty?"
"Fools then =
or
fools now," said Kemp.
"As though
knowing could be any satisfaction to a man!
"But I went =
to
work--like a slave. And I had hardly worked and thought about the matter six
months before light came through one of the meshes suddenly--blindingly! I
found a general principle of pigments and refraction--a formula, a geometri=
cal
expression involving four dimensions. Fools, common men, even common mathem=
aticians,
do not know anything of what some general expression may mean to the studen=
t of
molecular physics. In the books--the books that tramp has hidden--there are
marvels, miracles! But this was not a method, it was an idea, that might le=
ad
to a method by which it would be possible, without changing any other prope=
rty
of matter--except, in some instances colours--to lower the refractive index=
of
a substance, solid or liquid, to that of air--so far as all practical purpo=
ses
are concerned."
"Phew!"
said Kemp. "That's odd! But still I don't see quite ... I can understa=
nd
that thereby you could spoil a valuable stone, but personal invisibility is=
a
far cry."
"Precisely,&=
quot;
said Griffin. "But consider, visibility depends on the action of the
visible bodies on light. Either a body absorbs light, or it reflects or
refracts it, or does all these things. If it neither reflects nor refracts =
nor
absorbs light, it cannot of itself be visible. You see an opaque red box, f=
or
instance, because the colour absorbs some of the light and reflects the res=
t,
all the red part of the light, to you. If it did not absorb any particular =
part
of the light, but reflected it all, then it would be a shining white box. S=
ilver!
A diamond box would neither absorb much of the light nor reflect much from =
the
general surface, but just here and there where the surfaces were favourable=
the
light would be reflected and refracted, so that you would get a brilliant a=
ppearance
of flashing reflections and translucencies--a sort of skeleton of light. A
glass box would not be so brilliant, not so clearly visible, as a diamond b=
ox,
because there would be less refraction and reflection. See that? From certa=
in
points of view you would see quite clearly through it. Some kinds of glass
would be more visible than others, a box of flint glass would be brighter t=
han
a box of ordinary window glass. A box of very thin common glass would be ha=
rd
to see in a bad light, because it would absorb hardly any light and refract=
and
reflect very little. And if you put a sheet of common white glass in water,
still more if you put it in some denser liquid than water, it would vanish
almost altogether, because light passing from water to glass is only slight=
ly
refracted or reflected or indeed affected in any way. It is almost as invis=
ible
as a jet of coal gas or hydrogen is in air. And for precisely the same
reason!"
"Yes," =
said
Kemp, "that is pretty plain sailing."
"And here is
another fact you will know to be true. If a sheet of glass is smashed, Kemp,
and beaten into a powder, it becomes much more visible while it is in the a=
ir;
it becomes at last an opaque white powder. This is because the powdering
multiplies the surfaces of the glass at which refraction and reflection occ=
ur.
In the sheet of glass there are only two surfaces; in the powder the light =
is reflected
or refracted by each grain it passes through, and very little gets right
through the powder. But if the white powdered glass is put into water, it f=
orthwith
vanishes. The powdered glass and water have much the same refractive index;
that is, the light undergoes very little refraction or reflection in passing
from one to the other.
"You make the
glass invisible by putting it into a liquid of nearly the same refractive
index; a transparent thing becomes invisible if it is put in any medium of
almost the same refractive index. And if you will consider only a second, y=
ou
will see also that the powder of glass might be made to vanish in air, if i=
ts
refractive index could be made the same as that of air; for then there woul=
d be
no refraction or reflection as the light passed from glass to air."
"Yes, yes,&q=
uot;
said Kemp. "But a man's not powdered glass!"
"No," s=
aid
Griffin. "He's more transparent!"
"Nonsense!&q=
uot;
"That from a
doctor! How one forgets! Have you already forgotten your physics, in ten ye=
ars?
Just think of all the things that are transparent and seem not to be so. Pa=
per,
for instance, is made up of transparent fibres, and it is white and opaque =
only
for the same reason that a powder of glass is white and opaque. Oil white
paper, fill up the interstices between the particles with oil so that there=
is
no longer refraction or reflection except at the surfaces, and it becomes as
transparent as glass. And not only paper, but cotton fibre, linen fibre, wo=
ol
fibre, woody fibre, and bone, Kemp, flesh, Kemp, hair, Kemp, nails and nerv=
es,
Kemp, in fact the whole fabric of a man except the red of his blood and the
black pigment of hair, are all made up of transparent, colourless tissue. So
little suffices to make us visible one to the other. For the most part the
fibres of a living creature are no more opaque than water."
"Great
Heavens!" cried Kemp. "Of course, of course! I was thinking only =
last
night of the sea larvae and all jelly-fish!"
"Now you have
me! And all that I knew and had in mind a year after I left London--six yea=
rs
ago. But I kept it to myself. I had to do my work under frightful
disadvantages. Oliver, my professor, was a scientific bounder, a journalist=
by
instinct, a thief of ideas--he was always prying! And you know the knavish
system of the scientific world. I simply would not publish, and let him sha=
re
my credit. I went on working; I got nearer and nearer making my formula int=
o an
experiment, a reality. I told no living soul, because I meant to flash my w=
ork
upon the world with crushing effect and become famous at a blow. I took up =
the
question of pigments to fill up certain gaps. And suddenly, not by design b=
ut
by accident, I made a discovery in physiology."
"Yes?"<= o:p>
"You know the
red colouring matter of blood; it can be made white--colourless--and remain
with all the functions it has now!"
Kemp gave a cry of
incredulous amazement.
The Invisible Man
rose and began pacing the little study. "You may well exclaim. I remem=
ber
that night. It was late at night--in the daytime one was bothered with the
gaping, silly students--and I worked then sometimes till dawn. It came
suddenly, splendid and complete in my mind. I was alone; the laboratory was=
still,
with the tall lights burning brightly and silently. In all my great moments=
I
have been alone. 'One could make an animal--a tissue--transparent! One could
make it invisible! All except the pigments--I could be invisible!' I said,
suddenly realising what it meant to be an albino with such knowledge. It was
overwhelming. I left the filtering I was doing, and went and stared out of =
the
great window at the stars. 'I could be invisible!' I repeated.
"To do such a
thing would be to transcend magic. And I beheld, unclouded by doubt, a
magnificent vision of all that invisibility might mean to a man--the myster=
y,
the power, the freedom. Drawbacks I saw none. You have only to think! And I=
, a
shabby, poverty-struck, hemmed-in demonstrator, teaching fools in a provinc=
ial
college, might suddenly become--this. I ask you, Kemp if you ... Anyone, I =
tell
you, would have flung himself upon that research. And I worked three years,=
and
every mountain of difficulty I toiled over showed another from its summit. =
The
infinite details! And the exasperation! A professor, a provincial professor,
always prying. 'When are you going to publish this work of yours?' was his
everlasting question. And the students, the cramped means! Three years I ha=
d of
it--
"And after t=
hree
years of secrecy and exasperation, I found that to complete it was
impossible--impossible."
"How?"
asked Kemp.
"Money,"
said the Invisible Man, and went again to stare out of the window.
He turned around
abruptly. "I robbed the old man--robbed my father.
"The money w=
as
not his, and he shot himself."
CHAPTER XX - AT THE HOUSE=
IN
GREAT PORTLAND STREET
For a moment Kemp sat in silence, s=
taring
at the back of the headless figure at the window. Then he started, struck b=
y a
thought, rose, took the Invisible Man's arm, and turned him away from the o=
utlook.
"You are
tired," he said, "and while I sit, you walk about. Have my
chair."
He placed himself
between Griffin and the nearest window.
For a space Griff=
in
sat silent, and then he resumed abruptly:
"I had left =
the
Chesilstowe cottage already," he said, "when that happened. It was
last December. I had taken a room in London, a large unfurnished room in a =
big
ill-managed lodging-house in a slum near Great Portland Street. The room was
soon full of the appliances I had bought with his money; the work was going=
on
steadily, successfully, drawing near an end. I was like a man emerging from=
a thicket,
and suddenly coming on some unmeaning tragedy. I went to bury him. My mind =
was
still on this research, and I did not lift a finger to save his character. I
remember the funeral, the cheap hearse, the scant ceremony, the windy
frost-bitten hillside, and the old college friend of his who read the servi=
ce
over him--a shabby, black, bent old man with a snivelling cold.
"I remember
walking back to the empty house, through the place that had once been a vil=
lage
and was now patched and tinkered by the jerry builders into the ugly likene=
ss
of a town. Every way the roads ran out at last into the desecrated fields a=
nd
ended in rubble heaps and rank wet weeds. I remember myself as a gaunt blac=
k figure,
going along the slippery, shiny pavement, and the strange sense of detachme=
nt I
felt from the squalid respectability, the sordid commercialism of the place=
.
"I did not f=
eel
a bit sorry for my father. He seemed to me to be the victim of his own fool=
ish
sentimentality. The current cant required my attendance at his funeral, but=
it
was really not my affair.
"But going a=
long
the High Street, my old life came back to me for a space, for I met the gir=
l I
had known ten years since. Our eyes met.
"Something m=
oved
me to turn back and talk to her. She was a very ordinary person.
"It was all =
like
a dream, that visit to the old places. I did not feel then that I was lonel=
y,
that I had come out from the world into a desolate place. I appreciated my =
loss
of sympathy, but I put it down to the general inanity of things. Re-enterin=
g my
room seemed like the recovery of reality. There were the things I knew and
loved. There stood the apparatus, the experiments arranged and waiting. And=
now
there was scarcely a difficulty left, beyond the planning of details.
"I will tell
you, Kemp, sooner or later, all the complicated processes. We need not go i=
nto
that now. For the most part, saving certain gaps I chose to remember, they =
are
written in cypher in those books that tramp has hidden. We must hunt him do=
wn.
We must get those books again. But the essential phase was to place the tra=
nsparent
object whose refractive index was to be lowered between two radiating centr=
es
of a sort of ethereal vibration, of which I will tell you more fully later.=
No,
not those Roentgen vibrations--I don't know that these others of mine have =
been
described. Yet they are obvious enough. I needed two little dynamos, and th=
ese
I worked with a cheap gas engine. My first experiment was with a bit of whi=
te
wool fabric. It was the strangest thing in the world to see it in the flick=
er
of the flashes soft and white, and then to watch it fade like a wreath of s=
moke
and vanish.
"I could
scarcely believe I had done it. I put my hand into the emptiness, and there=
was
the thing as solid as ever. I felt it awkwardly, and threw it on the floor.=
I
had a little trouble finding it again.
"And then ca=
me a
curious experience. I heard a miaow behind me, and turning, saw a lean white
cat, very dirty, on the cistern cover outside the window. A thought came in=
to
my head. 'Everything ready for you,' I said, and went to the window, opened=
it,
and called softly. She came in, purring--the poor beast was starving--and I
gave her some milk. All my food was in a cupboard in the corner of the room.
After that she went smelling round the room, evidently with the idea of mak=
ing
herself at home. The invisible rag upset her a bit; you should have seen her
spit at it! But I made her comfortable on the pillow of my truckle-bed. And=
I
gave her butter to get her to wash."
"And you
processed her?"
"I processed
her. But giving drugs to a cat is no joke, Kemp! And the process failed.&qu=
ot;
"Failed!&quo=
t;
"In two
particulars. These were the claws and the pigment stuff, what is it?--at the
back of the eye in a cat. You know?"
"Tapetum.&qu=
ot;
"Yes, the
tapetum. It didn't go. After I'd given the stuff to bleach the blood and do=
ne
certain other things to her, I gave the beast opium, and put her and the pi=
llow
she was sleeping on, on the apparatus. And after all the rest had faded and
vanished, there remained two little ghosts of her eyes."
"Odd!"<= o:p>
"I can't exp=
lain
it. She was bandaged and clamped, of course--so I had her safe; but she woke
while she was still misty, and miaowed dismally, and someone came knocking.=
It
was an old woman from downstairs, who suspected me of vivisecting--a
drink-sodden old creature, with only a white cat to care for in all the wor=
ld.
I whipped out some chloroform, applied it, and answered the door. 'Did I he=
ar a
cat?' she asked. 'My cat?' 'Not here,' said I, very politely. She was a lit=
tle
doubtful and tried to peer past me into the room; strange enough to her no
doubt--bare walls, uncurtained windows, truckle-bed, with the gas engine
vibrating, and the seethe of the radiant points, and that faint ghastly
stinging of chloroform in the air. She had to be satisfied at last and went=
away
again."
"How long di=
d it
take?" asked Kemp.
"Three or fo=
ur
hours--the cat. The bones and sinews and the fat were the last to go, and t=
he
tips of the coloured hairs. And, as I say, the back part of the eye, tough,
iridescent stuff it is, wouldn't go at all.
"It was night
outside long before the business was over, and nothing was to be seen but t=
he
dim eyes and the claws. I stopped the gas engine, felt for and stroked the
beast, which was still insensible, and then, being tired, left it sleeping =
on
the invisible pillow and went to bed. I found it hard to sleep. I lay awake
thinking weak aimless stuff, going over the experiment over and over again,=
or dreaming
feverishly of things growing misty and vanishing about me, until everything,
the ground I stood on, vanished, and so I came to that sickly falling night=
mare
one gets. About two, the cat began miaowing about the room. I tried to hush=
it
by talking to it, and then I decided to turn it out. I remember the shock I=
had
when striking a light--there were just the round eyes shining green--and no=
thing
round them. I would have given it milk, but I hadn't any. It wouldn't be qu=
iet,
it just sat down and miaowed at the door. I tried to catch it, with an idea=
of
putting it out of the window, but it wouldn't be caught, it vanished. Then =
it
began miaowing in different parts of the room. At last I opened the window =
and
made a bustle. I suppose it went out at last. I never saw any more of it.
"Then--Heaven
knows why--I fell thinking of my father's funeral again, and the dismal win=
dy
hillside, until the day had come. I found sleeping was hopeless, and, locki=
ng
my door after me, wandered out into the morning streets."
"You don't m=
ean
to say there's an invisible cat at large!" said Kemp.
"If it hasn't
been killed," said the Invisible Man. "Why not?"
"Why not?&qu=
ot;
said Kemp. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
"It's very probably been killed," said the Invisible Man. "It was alive four days after, I know, and down a grating in Great Titchfield Street; because I saw a crowd round the place, trying to see whence the miaowing came."<= o:p>
He was silent for=
the
best part of a minute. Then he resumed abruptly:
"I remember =
that
morning before the change very vividly. I must have gone up Great Portland
Street. I remember the barracks in Albany Street, and the horse soldiers co=
ming
out, and at last I found the summit of Primrose Hill. It was a sunny day in
January--one of those sunny, frosty days that came before the snow this yea=
r.
My weary brain tried to formulate the position, to plot out a plan of actio=
n.
"I was surpr=
ised
to find, now that my prize was within my grasp, how inconclusive its attain=
ment
seemed. As a matter of fact I was worked out; the intense stress of nearly =
four
years' continuous work left me incapable of any strength of feeling. I was
apathetic, and I tried in vain to recover the enthusiasm of my first inquir=
ies,
the passion of discovery that had enabled me to compass even the downfall o=
f my
father's grey hairs. Nothing seemed to matter. I saw pretty clearly this wa=
s a
transient mood, due to overwork and want of sleep, and that either by drugs=
or
rest it would be possible to recover my energies.
"All I could
think clearly was that the thing had to be carried through; the fixed idea
still ruled me. And soon, for the money I had was almost exhausted. I looked
about me at the hillside, with children playing and girls watching them, and
tried to think of all the fantastic advantages an invisible man would have =
in
the world. After a time I crawled home, took some food and a strong dose of=
strychnine,
and went to sleep in my clothes on my unmade bed. Strychnine is a grand ton=
ic,
Kemp, to take the flabbiness out of a man."
"It's the
devil," said Kemp. "It's the palaeolithic in a bottle."
"I awoke vas=
tly
invigorated and rather irritable. You know?"
"I know the
stuff."
"And there w=
as
someone rapping at the door. It was my landlord with threats and inquiries,=
an
old Polish Jew in a long grey coat and greasy slippers. I had been tormenti=
ng a
cat in the night, he was sure--the old woman's tongue had been busy. He
insisted on knowing all about it. The laws in this country against vivisect=
ion were
very severe--he might be liable. I denied the cat. Then the vibration of the
little gas engine could be felt all over the house, he said. That was true,
certainly. He edged round me into the room, peering about over his German-s=
ilver
spectacles, and a sudden dread came into my mind that he might carry away
something of my secret. I tried to keep between him and the concentrating a=
pparatus
I had arranged, and that only made him more curious. What was I doing? Why =
was
I always alone and secretive? Was it legal? Was it dangerous? I paid nothing
but the usual rent. His had always been a most respectable house--in a
disreputable neighbourhood. Suddenly my temper gave way. I told him to get =
out.
He began to protest, to jabber of his right of entry. In a moment I had him=
by the
collar; something ripped, and he went spinning out into his own passage. I
slammed and locked the door and sat down quivering.
"He made a f=
uss
outside, which I disregarded, and after a time he went away.
"But this br=
ought
matters to a crisis. I did not know what he would do, nor even what he had =
the
power to do. To move to fresh apartments would have meant delay; altogether=
I
had barely twenty pounds left in the world, for the most part in a bank--an=
d I could
not afford that. Vanish! It was irresistible. Then there would be an inquir=
y,
the sacking of my room.
"At the thou=
ght
of the possibility of my work being exposed or interrupted at its very clim=
ax,
I became very angry and active. I hurried out with my three books of notes,=
my
cheque-book--the tramp has them now--and directed them from the nearest Post
Office to a house of call for letters and parcels in Great Portland Street.=
I tried
to go out noiselessly. Coming in, I found my landlord going quietly upstair=
s;
he had heard the door close, I suppose. You would have laughed to see him j=
ump
aside on the landing as I came tearing after him. He glared at me as I went=
by
him, and I made the house quiver with the slamming of my door. I heard him =
come
shuffling up to my floor, hesitate, and go down. I set to work upon my prep=
arations
forthwith.
"It was all =
done
that evening and night. While I was still sitting under the sickly, drowsy
influence of the drugs that decolourise blood, there came a repeated knocki=
ng
at the door. It ceased, footsteps went away and returned, and the knocking =
was
resumed. There was an attempt to push something under the door--a blue pape=
r.
Then in a fit of irritation I rose and went and flung the door wide open. '=
Now
then?' said I.
"It was my l=
andlord,
with a notice of ejectment or something. He held it out to me, saw something
odd about my hands, I expect, and lifted his eyes to my face.
"For a momen=
t he
gaped. Then he gave a sort of inarticulate cry, dropped candle and writ
together, and went blundering down the dark passage to the stairs. I shut t=
he
door, locked it, and went to the looking-glass. Then I understood his
terror.... My face was white--like white stone.
"But it was =
all
horrible. I had not expected the suffering. A night of racking anguish,
sickness and fainting. I set my teeth, though my skin was presently afire, =
all
my body afire; but I lay there like grim death. I understood now how it was=
the
cat had howled until I chloroformed it. Lucky it was I lived alone and unte=
nded
in my room. There were times when I sobbed and groaned and talked. But I st=
uck to
it.... I became insensible and woke languid in the darkness.
"The pain had
passed. I thought I was killing myself and I did not care. I shall never fo=
rget
that dawn, and the strange horror of seeing that my hands had become as clo=
uded
glass, and watching them grow clearer and thinner as the day went by, until=
at
last I could see the sickly disorder of my room through them, though I clos=
ed
my transparent eyelids. My limbs became glassy, the bones and arteries fade=
d,
vanished, and the little white nerves went last. I gritted my teeth and sta=
yed
there to the end. At last only the dead tips of the fingernails remained,
pallid and white, and the brown stain of some acid upon my fingers.
"I struggled=
up.
At first I was as incapable as a swathed infant--stepping with limbs I could
not see. I was weak and very hungry. I went and stared at nothing in my
shaving-glass, at nothing save where an attenuated pigment still remained
behind the retina of my eyes, fainter than mist. I had to hang on to the ta=
ble
and press my forehead against the glass.
"It was only=
by
a frantic effort of will that I dragged myself back to the apparatus and
completed the process.
"I slept dur=
ing
the forenoon, pulling the sheet over my eyes to shut out the light, and abo=
ut
midday I was awakened again by a knocking. My strength had returned. I sat =
up
and listened and heard a whispering. I sprang to my feet and as noiselessly=
as
possible began to detach the connections of my apparatus, and to distribute=
it about
the room, so as to destroy the suggestions of its arrangement. Presently the
knocking was renewed and voices called, first my landlord's, and then two
others. To gain time I answered them. The invisible rag and pillow came to =
hand
and I opened the window and pitched them out on to the cistern cover. As the
window opened, a heavy crash came at the door. Someone had charged it with =
the
idea of smashing the lock. But the stout bolts I had screwed up some days
before stopped him. That startled me, made me angry. I began to tremble and=
do
things hurriedly.
"I tossed
together some loose paper, straw, packing paper and so forth, in the middle=
of
the room, and turned on the gas. Heavy blows began to rain upon the door. I
could not find the matches. I beat my hands on the wall with rage. I turned
down the gas again, stepped out of the window on the cistern cover, very so=
ftly
lowered the sash, and sat down, secure and invisible, but quivering with an=
ger,
to watch events. They split a panel, I saw, and in another moment they had
broken away the staples of the bolts and stood in the open doorway. It was =
the
landlord and his two step-sons, sturdy young men of three or four and twent=
y.
Behind them fluttered the old hag of a woman from downstairs.
"You may ima=
gine
their astonishment to find the room empty. One of the younger men rushed to=
the
window at once, flung it up and stared out. His staring eyes and thick-lipp=
ed
bearded face came a foot from my face. I was half minded to hit his silly
countenance, but I arrested my doubled fist. He stared right through me. So=
did
the others as they joined him. The old man went and peered under the bed, a=
nd
then they all made a rush for the cupboard. They had to argue about it at
length in Yiddish and Cockney English. They concluded I had not answered th=
em,
that their imagination had deceived them. A feeling of extraordinary elation
took the place of my anger as I sat outside the window and watched these fo=
ur people--for
the old lady came in, glancing suspiciously about her like a cat, trying to
understand the riddle of my behaviour.
"The old man=
, so
far as I could understand his patois, agreed with the old lady that I was a
vivisectionist. The sons protested in garbled English that I was an electri=
cian,
and appealed to the dynamos and radiators. They were all nervous about my
arrival, although I found subsequently that they had bolted the front door.=
The
old lady peered into the cupboard and under the bed, and one of the young m=
en
pushed up the register and stared up the chimney. One of my fellow lodgers,=
a
coster-monger who shared the opposite room with a butcher, appeared on the
landing, and he was called in and told incoherent things.
"It occurred=
to
me that the radiators, if they fell into the hands of some acute well-educa=
ted
person, would give me away too much, and watching my opportunity, I came in=
to
the room and tilted one of the little dynamos off its fellow on which it was
standing, and smashed both apparatus. Then, while they were trying to expla=
in
the smash, I dodged out of the room and went softly downstairs.
"I went into=
one
of the sitting-rooms and waited until they came down, still speculating and
argumentative, all a little disappointed at finding no 'horrors,' and all a
little puzzled how they stood legally towards me. Then I slipped up again w=
ith
a box of matches, fired my heap of paper and rubbish, put the chairs and
bedding thereby, led the gas to the affair, by means of an india-rubber tub=
e,
and waving a farewell to the room left it for the last time."
"You fired t=
he
house!" exclaimed Kemp.
"Fired the
house. It was the only way to cover my trail--and no doubt it was insured. I
slipped the bolts of the front door quietly and went out into the street. I=
was
invisible, and I was only just beginning to realise the extraordinary advan=
tage
my invisibility gave me. My head was already teeming with plans of all the =
wild
and wonderful things I had now impunity to do."
CHAPTER XXI - IN OXFORD
STREET
"In going downstairs the first=
time
I found an unexpected difficulty because I could not see my feet; indeed I
stumbled twice, and there was an unaccustomed clumsiness in gripping the bo=
lt.
By not looking down, however, I managed to walk on the level passably well.=
"My mood, I =
say,
was one of exaltation. I felt as a seeing man might do, with padded feet and
noiseless clothes, in a city of the blind. I experienced a wild impulse to
jest, to startle people, to clap men on the back, fling people's hats astra=
y,
and generally revel in my extraordinary advantage.
"But hardly =
had
I emerged upon Great Portland Street, however (my lodging was close to the =
big
draper's shop there), when I heard a clashing concussion and was hit violen=
tly
behind, and turning saw a man carrying a basket of soda-water syphons, and
looking in amazement at his burden. Although the blow had really hurt me, I=
found
something so irresistible in his astonishment that I laughed aloud. 'The
devil's in the basket,' I said, and suddenly twisted it out of his hand. He=
let
go incontinently, and I swung the whole weight into the air.
"But a fool =
of a
cabman, standing outside a public house, made a sudden rush for this, and h=
is
extending fingers took me with excruciating violence under the ear. I let t=
he
whole down with a smash on the cabman, and then, with shouts and the clatte=
r of
feet about me, people coming out of shops, vehicles pulling up, I realised =
what
I had done for myself, and cursing my folly, backed against a shop window a=
nd
prepared to dodge out of the confusion. In a moment I should be wedged into=
a
crowd and inevitably discovered. I pushed by a butcher boy, who luckily did=
not
turn to see the nothingness that shoved him aside, and dodged behind the
cab-man's four-wheeler. I do not know how they settled the business, I hurr=
ied straight
across the road, which was happily clear, and hardly heeding which way I we=
nt,
in the fright of detection the incident had given me, plunged into the
afternoon throng of Oxford Street.
"I tried to =
get
into the stream of people, but they were too thick for me, and in a moment =
my
heels were being trodden upon. I took to the gutter, the roughness of which=
I
found painful to my feet, and forthwith the shaft of a crawling hansom dug =
me
forcibly under the shoulder blade, reminding me that I was already bruised
severely. I staggered out of the way of the cab, avoided a perambulator by =
a convulsive
movement, and found myself behind the hansom. A happy thought saved me, and=
as
this drove slowly along I followed in its immediate wake, trembling and ast=
onished
at the turn of my adventure. And not only trembling, but shivering. It was a
bright day in January and I was stark naked and the thin slime of mud that =
covered
the road was freezing. Foolish as it seems to me now, I had not reckoned th=
at,
transparent or not, I was still amenable to the weather and all its
consequences.
"Then sudden=
ly a
bright idea came into my head. I ran round and got into the cab. And so,
shivering, scared, and sniffing with the first intimations of a cold, and w=
ith
the bruises in the small of my back growing upon my attention, I drove slow=
ly
along Oxford Street and past Tottenham Court Road. My mood was as different
from that in which I had sallied forth ten minutes ago as it is possible to=
imagine.
This invisibility indeed! The one thought that possessed me was--how was I =
to
get out of the scrape I was in.
"We crawled =
past
Mudie's, and there a tall woman with five or six yellow-labelled books hail=
ed
my cab, and I sprang out just in time to escape her, shaving a railway van =
narrowly
in my flight. I made off up the roadway to Bloomsbury Square, intending to
strike north past the Museum and so get into the quiet district. I was now =
cruelly
chilled, and the strangeness of my situation so unnerved me that I whimpere=
d as
I ran. At the northward corner of the Square a little white dog ran out of =
the
Pharmaceutical Society's offices, and incontinently made for me, nose down.=
"I had never
realised it before, but the nose is to the mind of a dog what the eye is to=
the
mind of a seeing man. Dogs perceive the scent of a man moving as men percei=
ve
his vision. This brute began barking and leaping, showing, as it seemed to =
me,
only too plainly that he was aware of me. I crossed Great Russell Street,
glancing over my shoulder as I did so, and went some way along Montague Str=
eet
before I realised what I was running towards.
"Then I beca=
me
aware of a blare of music, and looking along the street saw a number of peo=
ple
advancing out of Russell Square, red shirts, and the banner of the Salvation
Army to the fore. Such a crowd, chanting in the roadway and scoffing on the
pavement, I could not hope to penetrate, and dreading to go back and farthe=
r from
home again, and deciding on the spur of the moment, I ran up the white step=
s of
a house facing the museum railings, and stood there until the crowd should =
have
passed. Happily the dog stopped at the noise of the band too, hesitated, and
turned tail, running back to Bloomsbury Square again.
"On came the
band, bawling with unconscious irony some hymn about 'When shall we see His
face?' and it seemed an interminable time to me before the tide of the crowd
washed along the pavement by me. Thud, thud, thud, came the drum with a
vibrating resonance, and for the moment I did not notice two urchins stoppi=
ng
at the railings by me. 'See 'em,' said one. 'See what?' said the other.
'Why--them footmarks--bare. Like what you makes in mud.'
"I looked do=
wn
and saw the youngsters had stopped and were gaping at the muddy footmarks I=
had
left behind me up the newly whitened steps. The passing people elbowed and
jostled them, but their confounded intelligence was arrested. 'Thud, thud,
thud, when, thud, shall we see, thud, his face, thud, thud.' 'There's a bar=
efoot
man gone up them steps, or I don't know nothing,' said one. 'And he ain't n=
ever
come down again. And his foot was a-bleeding.'
"The thick of
the crowd had already passed. 'Looky there, Ted,' quoth the younger of the
detectives, with the sharpness of surprise in his voice, and pointed straig=
ht
to my feet. I looked down and saw at once the dim suggestion of their outli=
ne
sketched in splashes of mud. For a moment I was paralysed.
"'Why, that's
rum,' said the elder. 'Dashed rum! It's just like the ghost of a foot, ain't
it?' He hesitated and advanced with outstretched hand. A man pulled up shor=
t to
see what he was catching, and then a girl. In another moment he would have
touched me. Then I saw what to do. I made a step, the boy started back with=
an
exclamation, and with a rapid movement I swung myself over into the portico=
of
the next house. But the smaller boy was sharp-eyed enough to follow the
movement, and before I was well down the steps and upon the pavement, he had
recovered from his momentary astonishment and was shouting out that the feet
had gone over the wall.
"They rushed
round and saw my new footmarks flash into being on the lower step and upon =
the
pavement. 'What's up?' asked someone. 'Feet! Look! Feet running!'
"Everybody in
the road, except my three pursuers, was pouring along after the Salvation A=
rmy,
and this blow not only impeded me but them. There was an eddy of surprise a=
nd
interrogation. At the cost of bowling over one young fellow I got through, =
and
in another moment I was rushing headlong round the circuit of Russell Squar=
e,
with six or seven astonished people following my footmarks. There was no ti=
me
for explanation, or else the whole host would have been after me.
"Twice I dou=
bled
round corners, thrice I crossed the road and came back upon my tracks, and
then, as my feet grew hot and dry, the damp impressions began to fade. At l=
ast
I had a breathing space and rubbed my feet clean with my hands, and so got =
away
altogether. The last I saw of the chase was a little group of a dozen peopl=
e perhaps,
studying with infinite perplexity a slowly drying footprint that had result=
ed
from a puddle in Tavistock Square, a footprint as isolated and incomprehens=
ible
to them as Crusoe's solitary discovery.
"This running
warmed me to a certain extent, and I went on with a better courage through =
the
maze of less frequented roads that runs hereabouts. My back had now become =
very
stiff and sore, my tonsils were painful from the cabman's fingers, and the =
skin
of my neck had been scratched by his nails; my feet hurt exceedingly and I =
was
lame from a little cut on one foot. I saw in time a blind man approaching m=
e,
and fled limping, for I feared his subtle intuitions. Once or twice acciden=
tal
collisions occurred and I left people amazed, with unaccountable curses rin=
ging
in their ears. Then came something silent and quiet against my face, and ac=
ross
the Square fell a thin veil of slowly falling flakes of snow. I had caught a
cold, and do as I would I could not avoid an occasional sneeze. And every d=
og
that came in sight, with its pointing nose and curious sniffing, was a terr=
or
to me.
"Then came m=
en
and boys running, first one and then others, and shouting as they ran. It w=
as a
fire. They ran in the direction of my lodging, and looking back down a stre=
et I
saw a mass of black smoke streaming up above the roofs and telephone wires.=
It
was my lodging burning; my clothes, my apparatus, all my resources indeed, =
except
my cheque-book and the three volumes of memoranda that awaited me in Great
Portland Street, were there. Burning! I had burnt my boats--if ever a man d=
id!
The place was blazing."
The Invisible Man
paused and thought. Kemp glanced nervously out of the window. "Yes?&qu=
ot;
he said. "Go on."
CHAPTER XXII - IN THE
EMPORIUM
"So last January, with the beg=
inning
of a snowstorm in the air about me--and if it settled on me it would betray
me!--weary, cold, painful, inexpressibly wretched, and still but half convi=
nced
of my invisible quality, I began this new life to which I am committed. I h=
ad
no refuge, no appliances, no human being in the world in whom I could confi=
de.
To have told my secret would have given me away--made a mere show and rarit=
y of
me. Nevertheless, I was half-minded to accost some passer-by and throw myse=
lf
upon his mercy. But I knew too clearly the terror and brutal cruelty my adv=
ances
would evoke. I made no plans in the street. My sole object was to get shelt=
er
from the snow, to get myself covered and warm; then I might hope to plan. B=
ut
even to me, an Invisible Man, the rows of London houses stood latched, barr=
ed,
and bolted impregnably.
"Only one th=
ing
could I see clearly before me--the cold exposure and misery of the snowstorm
and the night.
"And then I =
had
a brilliant idea. I turned down one of the roads leading from Gower Street =
to
Tottenham Court Road, and found myself outside Omniums, the big establishme=
nt
where everything is to be bought--you know the place: meat, grocery, linen,
furniture, clothing, oil paintings even--a huge meandering collection of sh=
ops rather
than a shop. I had thought I should find the doors open, but they were clos=
ed,
and as I stood in the wide entrance a carriage stopped outside, and a man in
uniform--you know the kind of personage with 'Omnium' on his cap--flung open
the door. I contrived to enter, and walking down the shop--it was a departm=
ent
where they were selling ribbons and gloves and stockings and that kind of t=
hing--came
to a more spacious region devoted to picnic baskets and wicker furniture.
"I did not f=
eel
safe there, however; people were going to and fro, and I prowled restlessly
about until I came upon a huge section in an upper floor containing multitu=
des
of bedsteads, and over these I clambered, and found a resting-place at last
among a huge pile of folded flock mattresses. The place was already lit up =
and
agreeably warm, and I decided to remain where I was, keeping a cautious eye=
on
the two or three sets of shopmen and customers who were meandering through =
the
place, until closing time came. Then I should be able, I thought, to rob the
place for food and clothing, and disguised, prowl through it and examine it=
s resources,
perhaps sleep on some of the bedding. That seemed an acceptable plan. My id=
ea
was to procure clothing to make myself a muffled but acceptable figure, to =
get
money, and then to recover my books and parcels where they awaited me, take=
a
lodging somewhere and elaborate plans for the complete realisation of the
advantages my invisibility gave me (as I still imagined) over my fellow-men=
.
"Closing time
arrived quickly enough. It could not have been more than an hour after I to=
ok
up my position on the mattresses before I noticed the blinds of the windows
being drawn, and customers being marched doorward. And then a number of bri=
sk
young men began with remarkable alacrity to tidy up the goods that remained
disturbed. I left my lair as the crowds diminished, and prowled cautiously =
out into
the less desolate parts of the shop. I was really surprised to observe how
rapidly the young men and women whipped away the goods displayed for sale
during the day. All the boxes of goods, the hanging fabrics, the festoons of
lace, the boxes of sweets in the grocery section, the displays of this and
that, were being whipped down, folded up, slapped into tidy receptacles, and
everything that could not be taken down and put away had sheets of some coa=
rse stuff
like sacking flung over them. Finally all the chairs were turned up on to t=
he
counters, leaving the floor clear. Directly each of these young people had
done, he or she made promptly for the door with such an expression of anima=
tion
as I have rarely observed in a shop assistant before. Then came a lot of
youngsters scattering sawdust and carrying pails and brooms. I had to dodge=
to
get out of the way, and as it was, my ankle got stung with the sawdust. For
some time, wandering through the swathed and darkened departments, I could =
hear
the brooms at work. And at last a good hour or more after the shop had been
closed, came a noise of locking doors. Silence came upon the place, and I f=
ound
myself wandering through the vast and intricate shops, galleries, show-room=
s of
the place, alone. It was very still; in one place I remember passing near o=
ne
of the Tottenham Court Road entrances and listening to the tapping of
boot-heels of the passers-by.
"My first vi=
sit
was to the place where I had seen stockings and gloves for sale. It was dar=
k,
and I had the devil of a hunt after matches, which I found at last in the
drawer of the little cash desk. Then I had to get a candle. I had to tear d=
own
wrappings and ransack a number of boxes and drawers, but at last I managed =
to
turn out what I sought; the box label called them lambswool pants, and lamb=
swool
vests. Then socks, a thick comforter, and then I went to the clothing place=
and
got trousers, a lounge jacket, an overcoat and a slouch hat--a clerical sor=
t of
hat with the brim turned down. I began to feel a human being again, and my =
next
thought was food.
"Upstairs wa=
s a
refreshment department, and there I got cold meat. There was coffee still in
the urn, and I lit the gas and warmed it up again, and altogether I did not=
do
badly. Afterwards, prowling through the place in search of blankets--I had =
to
put up at last with a heap of down quilts--I came upon a grocery section wi=
th a
lot of chocolate and candied fruits, more than was good for me indeed--and =
some
white burgundy. And near that was a toy department, and I had a brilliant i=
dea.
I found some artificial noses--dummy noses, you know, and I thought of dark
spectacles. But Omniums had no optical department. My nose had been a
difficulty indeed--I had thought of paint. But the discovery set my mind
running on wigs and masks and the like. Finally I went to sleep in a heap of
down quilts, very warm and comfortable.
"My last
thoughts before sleeping were the most agreeable I had had since the change=
. I
was in a state of physical serenity, and that was reflected in my mind. I
thought that I should be able to slip out unobserved in the morning with my
clothes upon me, muffling my face with a white wrapper I had taken, purchas=
e,
with the money I had taken, spectacles and so forth, and so complete my
disguise. I lapsed into disorderly dreams of all the fantastic things that =
had happened
during the last few days. I saw the ugly little Jew of a landlord vociferat=
ing
in his rooms; I saw his two sons marvelling, and the wrinkled old woman's
gnarled face as she asked for her cat. I experienced again the strange
sensation of seeing the cloth disappear, and so I came round to the windy
hillside and the sniffing old clergyman mumbling 'Earth to earth, ashes to
ashes, dust to dust,' at my father's open grave.
"'You also,'
said a voice, and suddenly I was being forced towards the grave. I struggle=
d,
shouted, appealed to the mourners, but they continued stonily following the
service; the old clergyman, too, never faltered droning and sniffing through
the ritual. I realised I was invisible and inaudible, that overwhelming for=
ces
had their grip on me. I struggled in vain, I was forced over the brink, the=
coffin
rang hollow as I fell upon it, and the gravel came flying after me in
spadefuls. Nobody heeded me, nobody was aware of me. I made convulsive
struggles and awoke.
"The pale Lo=
ndon
dawn had come, the place was full of a chilly grey light that filtered round
the edges of the window blinds. I sat up, and for a time I could not think
where this ample apartment, with its counters, its piles of rolled stuff, i=
ts
heap of quilts and cushions, its iron pillars, might be. Then, as recollect=
ion
came back to me, I heard voices in conversation.
"Then far do=
wn
the place, in the brighter light of some department which had already raised
its blinds, I saw two men approaching. I scrambled to my feet, looking abou=
t me
for some way of escape, and even as I did so the sound of my movement made =
them
aware of me. I suppose they saw merely a figure moving quietly and quickly =
away.
'Who's that?' cried one, and 'Stop there!' shouted the other. I dashed arou=
nd a
corner and came full tilt--a faceless figure, mind you!--on a lanky lad of
fifteen. He yelled and I bowled him over, rushed past him, turned another
corner, and by a happy inspiration threw myself behind a counter. In another
moment feet went running past and I heard voices shouting, 'All hands to th=
e doors!'
asking what was 'up,' and giving one another advice how to catch me.
"Lying on the
ground, I felt scared out of my wits. But--odd as it may seem--it did not o=
ccur
to me at the moment to take off my clothes as I should have done. I had mad=
e up
my mind, I suppose, to get away in them, and that ruled me. And then down t=
he
vista of the counters came a bawling of 'Here he is!'
"I sprang to=
my
feet, whipped a chair off the counter, and sent it whirling at the fool who=
had
shouted, turned, came into another round a corner, sent him spinning, and
rushed up the stairs. He kept his footing, gave a view hallo, and came up t=
he
staircase hot after me. Up the staircase were piled a multitude of those br=
ight-coloured
pot things--what are they?"
"Art pots,&q=
uot;
suggested Kemp.
"That's it! =
Art
pots. Well, I turned at the top step and swung round, plucked one out of a =
pile
and smashed it on his silly head as he came at me. The whole pile of pots w=
ent
headlong, and I heard shouting and footsteps running from all parts. I made=
a
mad rush for the refreshment place, and there was a man in white like a man=
cook,
who took up the chase. I made one last desperate turn and found myself among
lamps and ironmongery. I went behind the counter of this, and waited for my
cook, and as he bolted in at the head of the chase, I doubled him up with a
lamp. Down he went, and I crouched down behind the counter and began whippi=
ng
off my clothes as fast as I could. Coat, jacket, trousers, shoes were all
right, but a lambswool vest fits a man like a skin. I heard more men coming=
, my
cook was lying quiet on the other side of the counter, stunned or scared
speechless, and I had to make another dash for it, like a rabbit hunted out=
of
a wood-pile.
"'This way,
policeman!' I heard someone shouting. I found myself in my bedstead storero=
om
again, and at the end of a wilderness of wardrobes. I rushed among them, we=
nt
flat, got rid of my vest after infinite wriggling, and stood a free man aga=
in,
panting and scared, as the policeman and three of the shopmen came round the
corner. They made a rush for the vest and pants, and collared the trousers.=
'He's
dropping his plunder,' said one of the young men. 'He must be somewhere her=
e.'
"But they did
not find me all the same.
"I stood
watching them hunt for me for a time, and cursing my ill-luck in losing the
clothes. Then I went into the refreshment-room, drank a little milk I found=
there,
and sat down by the fire to consider my position.
"In a little
while two assistants came in and began to talk over the business very excit=
edly
and like the fools they were. I heard a magnified account of my depredation=
s,
and other speculations as to my whereabouts. Then I fell to scheming again.=
The
insurmountable difficulty of the place, especially now it was alarmed, was =
to
get any plunder out of it. I went down into the warehouse to see if there w=
as
any chance of packing and addressing a parcel, but I could not understand t=
he
system of checking. About eleven o'clock, the snow having thawed as it fell,
and the day being finer and a little warmer than the previous one, I decided
that the Emporium was hopeless, and went out again, exasperated at my want =
of success,
with only the vaguest plans of action in my mind."
CHAPTER XXIII - IN DRURY =
LANE
"But you begin now to realise,=
"
said the Invisible Man, "the full disadvantage of my condition. I had =
no
shelter--no covering--to get clothing was to forego all my advantage, to ma=
ke
myself a strange and terrible thing. I was fasting; for to eat, to fill mys=
elf
with unassimilated matter, would be to become grotesquely visible again.&qu=
ot;
"I never tho=
ught
of that," said Kemp.
"Nor had I. =
And
the snow had warned me of other dangers. I could not go abroad in snow--it
would settle on me and expose me. Rain, too, would make me a watery outline=
, a
glistening surface of a man--a bubble. And fog--I should be like a fainter
bubble in a fog, a surface, a greasy glimmer of humanity. Moreover, as I we=
nt abroad--in
the London air--I gathered dirt about my ankles, floating smuts and dust up=
on
my skin. I did not know how long it would be before I should become visible
from that cause also. But I saw clearly it could not be for long.
"Not in Lond=
on
at any rate.
"I went into=
the
slums towards Great Portland Street, and found myself at the end of the str=
eet
in which I had lodged. I did not go that way, because of the crowd halfway =
down
it opposite to the still smoking ruins of the house I had fired. My most
immediate problem was to get clothing. What to do with my face puzzled me. =
Then
I saw in one of those little miscellaneous shops--news, sweets, toys,
stationery, belated Christmas tomfoolery, and so forth--an array of masks a=
nd
noses. I realised that problem was solved. In a flash I saw my course. I tu=
rned
about, no longer aimless, and went--circuitously in order to avoid the busy
ways, towards the back streets north of the Strand; for I remembered, though
not very distinctly where, that some theatrical costumiers had shops in that
district.
"The day was
cold, with a nipping wind down the northward running streets. I walked fast=
to
avoid being overtaken. Every crossing was a danger, every passenger a thing=
to
watch alertly. One man as I was about to pass him at the top of Bedford Str=
eet,
turned upon me abruptly and came into me, sending me into the road and almo=
st under
the wheel of a passing hansom. The verdict of the cab-rank was that he had =
had
some sort of stroke. I was so unnerved by this encounter that I went into
Covent Garden Market and sat down for some time in a quiet corner by a stal=
l of
violets, panting and trembling. I found I had caught a fresh cold, and had =
to
turn out after a time lest my sneezes should attract attention.
"At last I reached the object of my quest, a dirty, fly-blown little shop in a by-way = near Drury Lane, with a window full of tinsel robes, sham jewels, wigs, slippers, dominoes and theatrical photographs. The shop was old-fashioned and low and= dark, and the house rose above it for four storeys, dark and dismal. I peered thr= ough the window and, seeing no one within, entered. The opening of the door set a clanking bell ringing. I left it open, and walked round a bare costume stan= d, into a corner behind a cheval glass. For a minute or so no one came. Then I heard heavy feet striding across a room, and a man appeared down the shop.<= o:p>
"My plans we=
re
now perfectly definite. I proposed to make my way into the house, secrete
myself upstairs, watch my opportunity, and when everything was quiet, rumma=
ge
out a wig, mask, spectacles, and costume, and go into the world, perhaps a
grotesque but still a credible figure. And incidentally of course I could r=
ob
the house of any available money.
"The man who=
had
just entered the shop was a short, slight, hunched, beetle-browed man, with
long arms and very short bandy legs. Apparently I had interrupted a meal. He
stared about the shop with an expression of expectation. This gave way to
surprise, and then to anger, as he saw the shop empty. 'Damn the boys!' he
said. He went to stare up and down the street. He came in again in a minute,
kicked the door to with his foot spitefully, and went muttering back to the
house door.
"I came forw=
ard
to follow him, and at the noise of my movement he stopped dead. I did so to=
o,
startled by his quickness of ear. He slammed the house door in my face.
"I stood
hesitating. Suddenly I heard his quick footsteps returning, and the door
reopened. He stood looking about the shop like one who was still not satisf=
ied.
Then, murmuring to himself, he examined the back of the counter and peered
behind some fixtures. Then he stood doubtful. He had left the house door op=
en
and I slipped into the inner room.
"It was a qu=
eer
little room, poorly furnished and with a number of big masks in the corner.=
On
the table was his belated breakfast, and it was a confoundedly exasperating
thing for me, Kemp, to have to sniff his coffee and stand watching while he
came in and resumed his meal. And his table manners were irritating. Three
doors opened into the little room, one going upstairs and one down, but the=
y were
all shut. I could not get out of the room while he was there; I could scarc=
ely
move because of his alertness, and there was a draught down my back. Twice I
strangled a sneeze just in time.
"The spectac=
ular
quality of my sensations was curious and novel, but for all that I was hear=
tily
tired and angry long before he had done his eating. But at last he made an =
end
and putting his beggarly crockery on the black tin tray upon which he had h=
ad
his teapot, and gathering all the crumbs up on the mustard stained cloth, he
took the whole lot of things after him. His burden prevented his shutting t=
he
door behind him--as he would have done; I never saw such a man for shutting
doors--and I followed him into a very dirty underground kitchen and sculler=
y. I
had the pleasure of seeing him begin to wash up, and then, finding no good =
in
keeping down there, and the brick floor being cold on my feet, I returned
upstairs and sat in his chair by the fire. It was burning low, and scarcely
thinking, I put on a little coal. The noise of this brought him up at once,=
and
he stood aglare. He peered about the room and was within an ace of touching=
me.
Even after that examination, he scarcely seemed satisfied. He stopped in the
doorway and took a final inspection before he went down.
"I waited in=
the
little parlour for an age, and at last he came up and opened the upstairs d=
oor.
I just managed to get by him.
"On the
staircase he stopped suddenly, so that I very nearly blundered into him. He
stood looking back right into my face and listening. 'I could have sworn,' =
he
said. His long hairy hand pulled at his lower lip. His eye went up and down=
the
staircase. Then he grunted and went on up again.
"His hand wa=
s on
the handle of a door, and then he stopped again with the same puzzled anger=
on
his face. He was becoming aware of the faint sounds of my movements about h=
im.
The man must have had diabolically acute hearing. He suddenly flashed into
rage. 'If there's anyone in this house--' he cried with an oath, and left t=
he threat
unfinished. He put his hand in his pocket, failed to find what he wanted, a=
nd
rushing past me went blundering noisily and pugnaciously downstairs. But I =
did
not follow him. I sat on the head of the staircase until his return.
"Presently he
came up again, still muttering. He opened the door of the room, and before I
could enter, slammed it in my face.
"I resolved =
to
explore the house, and spent some time in doing so as noiselessly as possib=
le.
The house was very old and tumble-down, damp so that the paper in the attics
was peeling from the walls, and rat infested. Some of the door handles were
stiff and I was afraid to turn them. Several rooms I did inspect were unfur=
nished,
and others were littered with theatrical lumber, bought second-hand, I judg=
ed,
from its appearance. In one room next to his I found a lot of old clothes. I
began routing among these, and in my eagerness forgot again the evident
sharpness of his ears. I heard a stealthy footstep and, looking up just in
time, saw him peering in at the tumbled heap and holding an old-fashioned
revolver in his hand. I stood perfectly still while he stared about
open-mouthed and suspicious. 'It must have been her,' he said slowly. 'Damn
her!'
"He shut the
door quietly, and immediately I heard the key turn in the lock. Then his
footsteps retreated. I realised abruptly that I was locked in. For a minute=
I
did not know what to do. I walked from door to window and back, and stood
perplexed. A gust of anger came upon me. But I decided to inspect the cloth=
es
before I did anything further, and my first attempt brought down a pile fro=
m an
upper shelf. This brought him back, more sinister than ever. That time he
actually touched me, jumped back with amazement and stood astonished in the
middle of the room.
"Presently he
calmed a little. 'Rats,' he said in an undertone, fingers on lips. He was
evidently a little scared. I edged quietly out of the room, but a plank
creaked. Then the infernal little brute started going all over the house,
revolver in hand and locking door after door and pocketing the keys. When I
realised what he was up to I had a fit of rage--I could hardly control myse=
lf
sufficiently to watch my opportunity. By this time I knew he was alone in t=
he
house, and so I made no more ado, but knocked him on the head."
"Knocked him=
on
the head?" exclaimed Kemp.
"Yes--stunned
him--as he was going downstairs. Hit him from behind with a stool that stoo=
d on
the landing. He went downstairs like a bag of old boots."
"But--I say!=
The
common conventions of humanity--"
"Are all very
well for common people. But the point was, Kemp, that I had to get out of t=
hat
house in a disguise without his seeing me. I couldn't think of any other wa=
y of
doing it. And then I gagged him with a Louis Quatorze vest and tied him up =
in a
sheet."
"Tied him up=
in
a sheet!"
"Made a sort=
of
bag of it. It was rather a good idea to keep the idiot scared and quiet, an=
d a
devilish hard thing to get out of--head away from the string. My dear Kemp,
it's no good your sitting glaring as though I was a murderer. It had to be
done. He had his revolver. If once he saw me he would be able to describe m=
e--"
"But
still," said Kemp, "in England--to-day. And the man was in his own
house, and you were--well, robbing."
"Robbing!
Confound it! You'll call me a thief next! Surely, Kemp, you're not fool eno=
ugh
to dance on the old strings. Can't you see my position?"
"And his
too," said Kemp.
The Invisible Man
stood up sharply. "What do you mean to say?"
Kemp's face grew a
trifle hard. He was about to speak and checked himself. "I suppose, af=
ter
all," he said with a sudden change of manner, "the thing had to be
done. You were in a fix. But still--"
"Of course I=
was
in a fix--an infernal fix. And he made me wild too--hunting me about the ho=
use,
fooling about with his revolver, locking and unlocking doors. He was simply
exasperating. You don't blame me, do you? You don't blame me?"
"I never bla=
me
anyone," said Kemp. "It's quite out of fashion. What did you do
next?"
"I was hungr=
y.
Downstairs I found a loaf and some rank cheese--more than sufficient to sat=
isfy
my hunger. I took some brandy and water, and then went up past my impromptu
bag--he was lying quite still--to the room containing the old clothes. This
looked out upon the street, two lace curtains brown with dirt guarding the =
window.
I went and peered out through their interstices. Outside the day was bright=
--by
contrast with the brown shadows of the dismal house in which I found myself,
dazzlingly bright. A brisk traffic was going by, fruit carts, a hansom, a
four-wheeler with a pile of boxes, a fishmonger's cart. I turned with spots=
of
colour swimming before my eyes to the shadowy fixtures behind me. My excite=
ment
was giving place to a clear apprehension of my position again. The room was
full of a faint scent of benzoline, used, I suppose, in cleaning the garmen=
ts.
"I began a
systematic search of the place. I should judge the hunchback had been alone=
in
the house for some time. He was a curious person. Everything that could
possibly be of service to me I collected in the clothes storeroom, and then=
I
made a deliberate selection. I found a handbag I thought a suitable possess=
ion,
and some powder, rouge, and sticking-plaster.
"I had thoug=
ht
of painting and powdering my face and all that there was to show of me, in
order to render myself visible, but the disadvantage of this lay in the fact
that I should require turpentine and other appliances and a considerable am=
ount
of time before I could vanish again. Finally I chose a mask of the better t=
ype,
slightly grotesque but not more so than many human beings, dark glasses,
greyish whiskers, and a wig. I could find no underclothing, but that I could
buy subsequently, and for the time I swathed myself in calico dominoes and =
some
white cashmere scarfs. I could find no socks, but the hunchback's boots were
rather a loose fit and sufficed. In a desk in the shop were three sovereigns
and about thirty shillings' worth of silver, and in a locked cupboard I bur=
st
in the inner room were eight pounds in gold. I could go forth into the world
again, equipped.
"Then came a
curious hesitation. Was my appearance really credible? I tried myself with a
little bedroom looking-glass, inspecting myself from every point of view to
discover any forgotten chink, but it all seemed sound. I was grotesque to t=
he theatrical
pitch, a stage miser, but I was certainly not a physical impossibility.
Gathering confidence, I took my looking-glass down into the shop, pulled do=
wn
the shop blinds, and surveyed myself from every point of view with the help=
of
the cheval glass in the corner.
"I spent some
minutes screwing up my courage and then unlocked the shop door and marched =
out
into the street, leaving the little man to get out of his sheet again when =
he
liked. In five minutes a dozen turnings intervened between me and the
costumier's shop. No one appeared to notice me very pointedly. My last
difficulty seemed overcome."
He stopped again.=
"And you
troubled no more about the hunchback?" said Kemp.
"No," s=
aid
the Invisible Man. "Nor have I heard what became of him. I suppose he
untied himself or kicked himself out. The knots were pretty tight."
He became silent =
and
went to the window and stared out.
"What happen=
ed when
you went out into the Strand?"
"Oh!--disill=
usionment
again. I thought my troubles were over. Practically I thought I had impunit=
y to
do whatever I chose, everything--save to give away my secret. So I thought.
Whatever I did, whatever the consequences might be, was nothing to me. I ha=
d merely
to fling aside my garments and vanish. No person could hold me. I could tak=
e my
money where I found it. I decided to treat myself to a sumptuous feast, and
then put up at a good hotel, and accumulate a new outfit of property. I felt
amazingly confident; it's not particularly pleasant recalling that I was an
ass. I went into a place and was already ordering lunch, when it occurred t=
o me
that I could not eat unless I exposed my invisible face. I finished ordering
the lunch, told the man I should be back in ten minutes, and went out
exasperated. I don't know if you have ever been disappointed in your
appetite."
"Not quite so
badly," said Kemp, "but I can imagine it."
"I could have
smashed the silly devils. At last, faint with the desire for tasteful food,=
I
went into another place and demanded a private room. 'I am disfigured,' I s=
aid.
'Badly.' They looked at me curiously, but of course it was not their
affair--and so at last I got my lunch. It was not particularly well served,=
but
it sufficed; and when I had had it, I sat over a cigar, trying to plan my l=
ine
of action. And outside a snowstorm was beginning.
"The more I
thought it over, Kemp, the more I realised what a helpless absurdity an
Invisible Man was--in a cold and dirty climate and a crowded civilised city.
Before I made this mad experiment I had dreamt of a thousand advantages. Th=
at
afternoon it seemed all disappointment. I went over the heads of the things=
a
man reckons desirable. No doubt invisibility made it possible to get them, =
but
it made it impossible to enjoy them when they are got. Ambition--what is the
good of pride of place when you cannot appear there? What is the good of the
love of woman when her name must needs be Delilah? I have no taste for poli=
tics,
for the blackguardisms of fame, for philanthropy, for sport. What was I to =
do?
And for this I had become a wrapped-up mystery, a swathed and bandaged
caricature of a man!"
He paused, and his
attitude suggested a roving glance at the window.
"But how did=
you
get to Iping?" said Kemp, anxious to keep his guest busy talking.
"I went ther=
e to
work. I had one hope. It was a half idea! I have it still. It is a full blo=
wn
idea now. A way of getting back! Of restoring what I have done. When I choo=
se.
When I have done all I mean to do invisibly. And that is what I chiefly wan=
t to
talk to you about now."
"You went
straight to Iping?"
"Yes. I had
simply to get my three volumes of memoranda and my cheque-book, my luggage =
and
underclothing, order a quantity of chemicals to work out this idea of mine-=
-I
will show you the calculations as soon as I get my books--and then I starte=
d.
Jove! I remember the snowstorm now, and the accursed bother it was to keep =
the
snow from damping my pasteboard nose."
"At the
end," said Kemp, "the day before yesterday, when they found you o=
ut,
you rather--to judge by the papers--"
"I did. Rath=
er.
Did I kill that fool of a constable?"
"No," s=
aid
Kemp. "He's expected to recover."
"That's his
luck, then. I clean lost my temper, the fools! Why couldn't they leave me
alone? And that grocer lout?"
"There are no
deaths expected," said Kemp.
"I don't know
about that tramp of mine," said the Invisible Man, with an unpleasant
laugh.
"By Heaven,
Kemp, you don't know what rage is! ... To have worked for years, to have
planned and plotted, and then to get some fumbling purblind idiot messing
across your course! ... Every conceivable sort of silly creature that has e=
ver
been created has been sent to cross me.
"If I have m=
uch
more of it, I shall go wild--I shall start mowing 'em.
"As it is,
they've made things a thousand times more difficult."
"No doubt it=
's
exasperating," said Kemp, drily.
CHAPTER XXIV - THE PLAN T=
HAT
FAILED
"But now," said Kemp, wit=
h a
side glance out of the window, "what are we to do?"
He moved nearer h=
is
guest as he spoke in such a manner as to prevent the possibility of a sudden
glimpse of the three men who were advancing up the hill road--with an
intolerable slowness, as it seemed to Kemp.
"What were y=
ou
planning to do when you were heading for Port Burdock? Had you any plan?&qu=
ot;
"I was going=
to
clear out of the country. But I have altered that plan rather since seeing =
you.
I thought it would be wise, now the weather is hot and invisibility possibl=
e,
to make for the South. Especially as my secret was known, and everyone woul=
d be
on the lookout for a masked and muffled man. You have a line of steamers fr=
om
here to France. My idea was to get aboard one and run the risks of the pass=
age.
Thence I could go by train into Spain, or else get to Algiers. It would not=
be
difficult. There a man might always be invisible--and yet live. And do thin=
gs.
I was using that tramp as a money box and luggage carrier, until I decided =
how
to get my books and things sent over to meet me."
"That's
clear."
"And then the
filthy brute must needs try and rob me! He has hidden my books, Kemp. Hidde=
n my
books! If I can lay my hands on him!"
"Best plan to
get the books out of him first."
"But where is
he? Do you know?"
"He's in the
town police station, locked up, by his own request, in the strongest cell in
the place."
"Cur!" =
said
the Invisible Man.
"But that ha=
ngs
up your plans a little."
"We must get
those books; those books are vital."
"Certainly,&=
quot;
said Kemp, a little nervously, wondering if he heard footsteps outside.
"Certainly we must get those books. But that won't be difficult, if he
doesn't know they're for you."
"No," s=
aid
the Invisible Man, and thought.
Kemp tried to thi=
nk
of something to keep the talk going, but the Invisible Man resumed of his o=
wn
accord.
"Blundering =
into
your house, Kemp," he said, "changes all my plans. For you are a =
man
that can understand. In spite of all that has happened, in spite of this
publicity, of the loss of my books, of what I have suffered, there still re=
main
great possibilities, huge possibilities--"
"You have to=
ld
no one I am here?" he asked abruptly.
Kemp hesitated.
"That was implied," he said.
"No one?&quo=
t;
insisted Griffin.
"Not a
soul."
"Ah! Now--&q=
uot;
The Invisible Man stood up, and sticking his arms akimbo began to pace the
study.
"I made a
mistake, Kemp, a huge mistake, in carrying this thing through alone. I have
wasted strength, time, opportunities. Alone--it is wonderful how little a m=
an
can do alone! To rob a little, to hurt a little, and there is the end.
"What I want,
Kemp, is a goal-keeper, a helper, and a hiding-place, an arrangement whereb=
y I
can sleep and eat and rest in peace, and unsuspected. I must have a
confederate. With a confederate, with food and rest--a thousand things are =
possible.
"Hitherto I =
have
gone on vague lines. We have to consider all that invisibility means, all t=
hat
it does not mean. It means little advantage for eavesdropping and so forth-=
-one
makes sounds. It's of little help--a little help perhaps--in housebreaking =
and
so forth. Once you've caught me you could easily imprison me. But on the ot=
her
hand I am hard to catch. This invisibility, in fact, is only good in two ca=
ses:
It's useful in getting away, it's useful in approaching. It's particularly
useful, therefore, in killing. I can walk round a man, whatever weapon he h=
as,
choose my point, strike as I like. Dodge as I like. Escape as I like."=
Kemp's hand went =
to
his moustache. Was that a movement downstairs?
"And it is
killing we must do, Kemp."
"It is killi=
ng
we must do," repeated Kemp. "I'm listening to your plan, Griffin,=
but
I'm not agreeing, mind. Why killing?"
"Not wanton
killing, but a judicious slaying. The point is, they know there is an Invis=
ible
Man--as well as we know there is an Invisible Man. And that Invisible Man,
Kemp, must now establish a Reign of Terror. Yes; no doubt it's startling. B=
ut I
mean it. A Reign of Terror. He must take some town like your Burdock and te=
rrify
and dominate it. He must issue his orders. He can do that in a thousand way=
s--scraps
of paper thrust under doors would suffice. And all who disobey his orders he
must kill, and kill all who would defend them."
"Humph!"
said Kemp, no longer listening to Griffin but to the sound of his front door
opening and closing.
"It seems to=
me,
Griffin," he said, to cover his wandering attention, "that your
confederate would be in a difficult position."
"No one would
know he was a confederate," said the Invisible Man, eagerly. And then
suddenly, "Hush! What's that downstairs?"
"Nothing,&qu=
ot;
said Kemp, and suddenly began to speak loud and fast. "I don't agree to
this, Griffin," he said. "Understand me, I don't agree to this. W=
hy
dream of playing a game against the race? How can you hope to gain happines=
s?
Don't be a lone wolf. Publish your results; take the world--take the nation=
at
least--into your confidence. Think what you might do with a million
helpers--"
The Invisible Man
interrupted--arm extended. "There are footsteps coming upstairs,"=
he
said in a low voice.
"Nonsense,&q=
uot;
said Kemp.
"Let me
see," said the Invisible Man, and advanced, arm extended, to the door.=
And then things
happened very swiftly. Kemp hesitated for a second and then moved to interc=
ept
him. The Invisible Man started and stood still. "Traitor!" cried =
the
Voice, and suddenly the dressing-gown opened, and sitting down the Unseen b=
egan
to disrobe. Kemp made three swift steps to the door, and forthwith the
Invisible Man--his legs had vanished--sprang to his feet with a shout. Kemp
flung the door open.
As it opened, the=
re
came a sound of hurrying feet downstairs and voices.
With a quick move=
ment
Kemp thrust the Invisible Man back, sprang aside, and slammed the door. The=
key
was outside and ready. In another moment Griffin would have been alone in t=
he
belvedere study, a prisoner. Save for one little thing. The key had been sl=
ipped
in hastily that morning. As Kemp slammed the door it fell noisily upon the
carpet.
Kemp's face became
white. He tried to grip the door handle with both hands. For a moment he st=
ood
lugging. Then the door gave six inches. But he got it closed again. The sec=
ond
time it was jerked a foot wide, and the dressing-gown came wedging itself i=
nto
the opening. His throat was gripped by invisible fingers, and he left his h=
old
on the handle to defend himself. He was forced back, tripped and pitched
heavily into the corner of the landing. The empty dressing-gown was flung on
the top of him.
Halfway up the
staircase was Colonel Adye, the recipient of Kemp's letter, the chief of the
Burdock police. He was staring aghast at the sudden appearance of Kemp,
followed by the extraordinary sight of clothing tossing empty in the air. He
saw Kemp felled, and struggling to his feet. He saw him rush forward, and go
down again, felled like an ox.
Then suddenly he =
was
struck violently. By nothing! A vast weight, it seemed, leapt upon him, and=
he
was hurled headlong down the staircase, with a grip on his throat and a kne=
e in
his groin. An invisible foot trod on his back, a ghostly patter passed
downstairs, he heard the two police officers in the hall shout and run, and=
the
front door of the house slammed violently.
He rolled over and
sat up staring. He saw, staggering down the staircase, Kemp, dusty and
disheveled, one side of his face white from a blow, his lip bleeding, and a
pink dressing-gown and some underclothing held in his arms.
"My God!&quo=
t;
cried Kemp, "the game's up! He's gone!"
CHAPTER XXV - THE HUNTING=
OF
THE INVISIBLE MAN
For a space Kemp was too inarticula=
te to
make Adye understand the swift things that had just happened. They stood on=
the
landing, Kemp speaking swiftly, the grotesque swathings of Griffin still on=
his
arm. But presently Adye began to grasp something of the situation.
"He is
mad," said Kemp; "inhuman. He is pure selfishness. He thinks of
nothing but his own advantage, his own safety. I have listened to such a st=
ory
this morning of brutal self-seeking.... He has wounded men. He will kill th=
em
unless we can prevent him. He will create a panic. Nothing can stop him. He=
is
going out now--furious!"
"He must be
caught," said Adye. "That is certain."
"But how?&qu=
ot;
cried Kemp, and suddenly became full of ideas. "You must begin at once.
You must set every available man to work; you must prevent his leaving this
district. Once he gets away, he may go through the countryside as he wills,
killing and maiming. He dreams of a reign of terror! A reign of terror, I t=
ell
you. You must set a watch on trains and roads and shipping. The garrison mu=
st
help. You must wire for help. The only thing that may keep him here is the =
thought
of recovering some books of notes he counts of value. I will tell you of th=
at!
There is a man in your police station--Marvel."
"I know,&quo=
t;
said Adye, "I know. Those books--yes. But the tramp...."
"Says he has=
n't
them. But he thinks the tramp has. And you must prevent him from eating or
sleeping; day and night the country must be astir for him. Food must be loc=
ked
up and secured, all food, so that he will have to break his way to it. The
houses everywhere must be barred against him. Heaven send us cold nights and
rain! The whole country-side must begin hunting and keep hunting. I tell yo=
u, Adye,
he is a danger, a disaster; unless he is pinned and secured, it is frightfu=
l to
think of the things that may happen."
"What else c=
an
we do?" said Adye. "I must go down at once and begin organising. =
But
why not come? Yes--you come too! Come, and we must hold a sort of council of
war--get Hopps to help--and the railway managers. By Jove! it's urgent. Come
along--tell me as we go. What else is there we can do? Put that stuff
down."
In another moment
Adye was leading the way downstairs. They found the front door open and the
policemen standing outside staring at empty air. "He's got away,
sir," said one.
"We must go = to the central station at once," said Adye. "One of you go on down a= nd get a cab to come up and meet us--quickly. And now, Kemp, what else?"<= o:p>
"Dogs,"
said Kemp. "Get dogs. They don't see him, but they wind him. Get
dogs."
"Good,"
said Adye. "It's not generally known, but the prison officials over at
Halstead know a man with bloodhounds. Dogs. What else?"
"Bear in
mind," said Kemp, "his food shows. After eating, his food shows u=
ntil
it is assimilated. So that he has to hide after eating. You must keep on
beating. Every thicket, every quiet corner. And put all weapons--all implem=
ents
that might be weapons, away. He can't carry such things for long. And what =
he
can snatch up and strike men with must be hidden away."
"Good
again," said Adye. "We shall have him yet!"
"And on the
roads," said Kemp, and hesitated.
"Yes?" =
said
Adye.
"Powdered
glass," said Kemp. "It's cruel, I know. But think of what he may
do!"
Adye drew the air=
in
sharply between his teeth. "It's unsportsmanlike. I don't know. But I'=
ll
have powdered glass got ready. If he goes too far...."
"The man's
become inhuman, I tell you," said Kemp. "I am as sure he will
establish a reign of terror--so soon as he has got over the emotions of this
escape--as I am sure I am talking to you. Our only chance is to be ahead. He
has cut himself off from his kind. His blood be upon his own head."
CHAPTER XXVI - THE WICKST=
EED
MURDER
The Invisible Man seems to have rus=
hed
out of Kemp's house in a state of blind fury. A little child playing near
Kemp's gateway was violently caught up and thrown aside, so that its ankle =
was
broken, and thereafter for some hours the Invisible Man passed out of human=
perceptions.
No one knows where he went nor what he did. But one can imagine him hurrying
through the hot June forenoon, up the hill and on to the open downland behi=
nd
Port Burdock, raging and despairing at his intolerable fate, and sheltering=
at
last, heated and weary, amid the thickets of Hintondean, to piece together
again his shattered schemes against his species. That seems to most probable
refuge for him, for there it was he re-asserted himself in a grimly tragical
manner about two in the afternoon.
One wonders what =
his
state of mind may have been during that time, and what plans he devised. No
doubt he was almost ecstatically exasperated by Kemp's treachery, and thoug=
h we
may be able to understand the motives that led to that deceit, we may still=
imagine
and even sympathise a little with the fury the attempted surprise must have
occasioned. Perhaps something of the stunned astonishment of his Oxford Str=
eet
experiences may have returned to him, for he had evidently counted on Kemp's
co-operation in his brutal dream of a terrorised world. At any rate he vani=
shed
from human ken about midday, and no living witness can tell what he did unt=
il
about half-past two. It was a fortunate thing, perhaps, for humanity, but f=
or
him it was a fatal inaction.
During that time a
growing multitude of men scattered over the countryside were busy. In the
morning he had still been simply a legend, a terror; in the afternoon, by v=
irtue
chiefly of Kemp's drily worded proclamation, he was presented as a tangible=
antagonist,
to be wounded, captured, or overcome, and the countryside began organising
itself with inconceivable rapidity. By two o'clock even he might still have
removed himself out of the district by getting aboard a train, but after two
that became impossible. Every passenger train along the lines on a great pa=
rallelogram
between Southampton, Manchester, Brighton and Horsham, travelled with locked
doors, and the goods traffic was almost entirely suspended. And in a great
circle of twenty miles round Port Burdock, men armed with guns and bludgeons
were presently setting out in groups of three and four, with dogs, to beat =
the
roads and fields.
Mounted policemen
rode along the country lanes, stopping at every cottage and warning the peo=
ple
to lock up their houses, and keep indoors unless they were armed, and all t=
he
elementary schools had broken up by three o'clock, and the children, scared=
and
keeping together in groups, were hurrying home. Kemp's proclamation--signed=
indeed
by Adye--was posted over almost the whole district by four or five o'clock =
in
the afternoon. It gave briefly but clearly all the conditions of the strugg=
le,
the necessity of keeping the Invisible Man from food and sleep, the necessi=
ty
for incessant watchfulness and for a prompt attention to any evidence of his
movements. And so swift and decided was the action of the authorities, so
prompt and universal was the belief in this strange being, that before nigh=
tfall
an area of several hundred square miles was in a stringent state of siege. =
And
before nightfall, too, a thrill of horror went through the whole watching
nervous countryside. Going from whispering mouth to mouth, swift and certain
over the length and breadth of the country, passed the story of the murder =
of
Mr. Wicksteed.
If our supposition
that the Invisible Man's refuge was the Hintondean thickets, then we must
suppose that in the early afternoon he sallied out again bent upon some pro=
ject
that involved the use of a weapon. We cannot know what the project was, but=
the
evidence that he had the iron rod in hand before he met Wicksteed is to me =
at
least overwhelming.
Of course we can =
know
nothing of the details of that encounter. It occurred on the edge of a grav=
el
pit, not two hundred yards from Lord Burdock's lodge gate. Everything point=
s to
a desperate struggle--the trampled ground, the numerous wounds Mr. Wickstee=
d received,
his splintered walking-stick; but why the attack was made, save in a murder=
ous
frenzy, it is impossible to imagine. Indeed the theory of madness is almost
unavoidable. Mr. Wicksteed was a man of forty-five or forty-six, steward to
Lord Burdock, of inoffensive habits and appearance, the very last person in=
the
world to provoke such a terrible antagonist. Against him it would seem the
Invisible Man used an iron rod dragged from a broken piece of fence. He sto=
pped
this quiet man, going quietly home to his midday meal, attacked him, beat d=
own
his feeble defences, broke his arm, felled him, and smashed his head to a
jelly.
Of course, he must
have dragged this rod out of the fencing before he met his victim--he must =
have
been carrying it ready in his hand. Only two details beyond what has already
been stated seem to bear on the matter. One is the circumstance that the gr=
avel
pit was not in Mr. Wicksteed's direct path home, but nearly a couple of hun=
dred
yards out of his way. The other is the assertion of a little girl to the ef=
fect
that, going to her afternoon school, she saw the murdered man
"trotting" in a peculiar manner across a field towards the gravel
pit. Her pantomime of his action suggests a man pursuing something on the
ground before him and striking at it ever and again with his walking-stick.=
She
was the last person to see him alive. He passed out of her sight to his dea=
th,
the struggle being hidden from her only by a clump of beech trees and a sli=
ght depression
in the ground.
Now this, to the
present writer's mind at least, lifts the murder out of the realm of the
absolutely wanton. We may imagine that Griffin had taken the rod as a weapon
indeed, but without any deliberate intention of using it in murder. Wickste=
ed
may then have come by and noticed this rod inexplicably moving through the =
air.
Without any thought of the Invisible Man--for Port Burdock is ten miles
away--he may have pursued it. It is quite conceivable that he may not even =
have
heard of the Invisible Man. One can then imagine the Invisible Man making
off--quietly in order to avoid discovering his presence in the neighbourhoo=
d,
and Wicksteed, excited and curious, pursuing this unaccountably locomotive =
object--finally
striking at it.
No doubt the
Invisible Man could easily have distanced his middle-aged pursuer under
ordinary circumstances, but the position in which Wicksteed's body was found
suggests that he had the ill luck to drive his quarry into a corner between=
a
drift of stinging nettles and the gravel pit. To those who appreciate the e=
xtraordinary
irascibility of the Invisible Man, the rest of the encounter will be easy to
imagine.
But this is pure
hypothesis. The only undeniable facts--for stories of children are often
unreliable--are the discovery of Wicksteed's body, done to death, and of the
blood-stained iron rod flung among the nettles. The abandonment of the rod =
by
Griffin, suggests that in the emotional excitement of the affair, the purpo=
se
for which he took it--if he had a purpose--was abandoned. He was certainly =
an
intensely egotistical and unfeeling man, but the sight of his victim, his f=
irst
victim, bloody and pitiful at his feet, may have released some long pent
fountain of remorse which for a time may have flooded whatever scheme of ac=
tion
he had contrived.
After the murder =
of
Mr. Wicksteed, he would seem to have struck across the country towards the
downland. There is a story of a voice heard about sunset by a couple of men=
in
a field near Fern Bottom. It was wailing and laughing, sobbing and groaning,
and ever and again it shouted. It must have been queer hearing. It drove up=
across
the middle of a clover field and died away towards the hills.
That afternoon the
Invisible Man must have learnt something of the rapid use Kemp had made of =
his
confidences. He must have found houses locked and secured; he may have loit=
ered
about railway stations and prowled about inns, and no doubt he read the pro=
clamations
and realised something of the nature of the campaign against him. And as the
evening advanced, the fields became dotted here and there with groups of th=
ree
or four men, and noisy with the yelping of dogs. These men-hunters had
particular instructions in the case of an encounter as to the way they shou=
ld
support one another. But he avoided them all. We may understand something o=
f his
exasperation, and it could have been none the less because he himself had
supplied the information that was being used so remorselessly against him. =
For
that day at least he lost heart; for nearly twenty-four hours, save when he
turned on Wicksteed, he was a hunted man. In the night, he must have eaten =
and
slept; for in the morning he was himself again, active, powerful, angry, an=
d malignant,
prepared for his last great struggle against the world.
CHAPTER XXVII - THE SIEGE=
OF
KEMP'S HOUSE
Kemp read a strange missive, writte=
n in
pencil on a greasy sheet of paper.
"You have be=
en
amazingly energetic and clever," this letter ran, "though what you
stand to gain by it I cannot imagine. You are against me. For a whole day y=
ou
have chased me; you have tried to rob me of a night's rest. But I have had =
food
in spite of you, I have slept in spite of you, and the game is only beginni=
ng.
The game is only beginning. There is nothing for it, but to start the Terro=
r.
This announces the first day of the Terror. Port Burdock is no longer under=
the
Queen, tell your Colonel of Police, and the rest of them; it is under me--t=
he
Terror! This is day one of year one of the new epoch--the Epoch of the
Invisible Man. I am Invisible Man the First. To begin with the rule will be
easy. The first day there will be one execution for the sake of example--a =
man
named Kemp. Death starts for him to-day. He may lock himself away, hide him=
self
away, get guards about him, put on armour if he likes--Death, the unseen De=
ath,
is coming. Let him take precautions; it will impress my people. Death starts
from the pillar box by midday. The letter will fall in as the postman comes=
along,
then off! The game begins. Death starts. Help him not, my people, lest Death
fall upon you also. To-day Kemp is to die."
Kemp read this le=
tter
twice, "It's no hoax," he said. "That's his voice! And he me=
ans
it."
He turned the fol=
ded
sheet over and saw on the addressed side of it the postmark Hintondean, and=
the
prosaic detail "2d. to pay."
He got up slowly,
leaving his lunch unfinished--the letter had come by the one o'clock post--=
and
went into his study. He rang for his housekeeper, and told her to go round =
the
house at once, examine all the fastenings of the windows, and close all the=
shutters.
He closed the shutters of his study himself. From a locked drawer in his
bedroom he took a little revolver, examined it carefully, and put it into t=
he
pocket of his lounge jacket. He wrote a number of brief notes, one to Colon=
el
Adye, gave them to his servant to take, with explicit instructions as to her
way of leaving the house. "There is no danger," he said, and adde=
d a mental
reservation, "to you." He remained meditative for a space after d=
oing
this, and then returned to his cooling lunch.
He ate with gaps =
of
thought. Finally he struck the table sharply. "We will have him!"=
he
said; "and I am the bait. He will come too far."
He went up to the
belvedere, carefully shutting every door after him. "It's a game,"=
; he
said, "an odd game--but the chances are all for me, Mr. Griffin, in sp=
ite
of your invisibility. Griffin contra mundum ... with a vengeance."
He stood at the
window staring at the hot hillside. "He must get food every day--and I
don't envy him. Did he really sleep last night? Out in the open
somewhere--secure from collisions. I wish we could get some good cold wet
weather instead of the heat.
"He may be
watching me now."
He went close to =
the
window. Something rapped smartly against the brickwork over the frame, and =
made
him start violently back.
"I'm getting
nervous," said Kemp. But it was five minutes before he went to the win=
dow
again. "It must have been a sparrow," he said.
Presently he heard
the front-door bell ringing, and hurried downstairs. He unbolted and unlock=
ed
the door, examined the chain, put it up, and opened cautiously without show=
ing
himself. A familiar voice hailed him. It was Adye.
"Your servan=
t's
been assaulted, Kemp," he said round the door.
"What!"
exclaimed Kemp.
"Had that no=
te
of yours taken away from her. He's close about here. Let me in."
Kemp released the
chain, and Adye entered through as narrow an opening as possible. He stood =
in
the hall, looking with infinite relief at Kemp refastening the door. "=
Note
was snatched out of her hand. Scared her horribly. She's down at the statio=
n.
Hysterics. He's close here. What was it about?"
Kemp swore.
"What a fool=
I
was," said Kemp. "I might have known. It's not an hour's walk from
Hintondean. Already?"
"What's
up?" said Adye.
"Look
here!" said Kemp, and led the way into his study. He handed Adye the
Invisible Man's letter. Adye read it and whistled softly. "And
you--?" said Adye.
"Proposed a
trap--like a fool," said Kemp, "and sent my proposal out by a maid
servant. To him."
Adye followed Kem=
p's
profanity.
"He'll clear
out," said Adye.
"Not he,&quo=
t;
said Kemp.
A resounding smas=
h of
glass came from upstairs. Adye had a silvery glimpse of a little revolver h=
alf
out of Kemp's pocket. "It's a window, upstairs!" said Kemp, and l=
ed
the way up. There came a second smash while they were still on the staircas=
e.
When they reached the study they found two of the three windows smashed, ha=
lf
the room littered with splintered glass, and one big flint lying on the wri=
ting
table. The two men stopped in the doorway, contemplating the wreckage. Kemp
swore again, and as he did so the third window went with a snap like a pist=
ol,
hung starred for a moment, and collapsed in jagged, shivering triangles into
the room.
"What's this
for?" said Adye.
"It's a
beginning," said Kemp.
"There's no =
way
of climbing up here?"
"Not for a
cat," said Kemp.
"No
shutters?"
"Not here. A=
ll
the downstairs rooms--Hullo!"
Smash, and then w=
hack
of boards hit hard came from downstairs. "Confound him!" said Kem=
p.
"That must be--yes--it's one of the bedrooms. He's going to do all the
house. But he's a fool. The shutters are up, and the glass will fall outsid=
e.
He'll cut his feet."
Another window
proclaimed its destruction. The two men stood on the landing perplexed. &qu=
ot;I
have it!" said Adye. "Let me have a stick or something, and I'll =
go
down to the station and get the bloodhounds put on. That ought to settle hi=
m!
They're hard by--not ten minutes--"
Another window we=
nt
the way of its fellows.
"You haven't=
a
revolver?" asked Adye.
Kemp's hand went =
to
his pocket. Then he hesitated. "I haven't one--at least to spare."=
;
"I'll bring =
it
back," said Adye, "you'll be safe here."
Kemp, ashamed of =
his
momentary lapse from truthfulness, handed him the weapon.
"Now for the
door," said Adye.
As they stood
hesitating in the hall, they heard one of the first-floor bedroom windows c=
rack
and clash. Kemp went to the door and began to slip the bolts as silently as
possible. His face was a little paler than usual. "You must step strai=
ght
out," said Kemp. In another moment Adye was on the doorstep and the bo=
lts
were dropping back into the staples. He hesitated for a moment, feeling mor=
e comfortable
with his back against the door. Then he marched, upright and square, down t=
he
steps. He crossed the lawn and approached the gate. A little breeze seemed =
to
ripple over the grass. Something moved near him. "Stop a bit," sa=
id a
Voice, and Adye stopped dead and his hand tightened on the revolver.
"Well?"
said Adye, white and grim, and every nerve tense.
"Oblige me by
going back to the house," said the Voice, as tense and grim as Adye's.=
"Sorry,"
said Adye a little hoarsely, and moistened his lips with his tongue. The Vo=
ice
was on his left front, he thought. Suppose he were to take his luck with a
shot?
"What are you
going for?" said the Voice, and there was a quick movement of the two,=
and
a flash of sunlight from the open lip of Adye's pocket.
Adye desisted and
thought. "Where I go," he said slowly, "is my own business.&=
quot;
The words were still on his lips, when an arm came round his neck, his back
felt a knee, and he was sprawling backward. He drew clumsily and fired
absurdly, and in another moment he was struck in the mouth and the revolver
wrested from his grip. He made a vain clutch at a slippery limb, tried to
struggle up and fell back. "Damn!" said Adye. The Voice laughed.
"I'd kill you now if it wasn't the waste of a bullet," it said. He
saw the revolver in mid-air, six feet off, covering him.
"Well?"
said Adye, sitting up.
"Get up,&quo=
t;
said the Voice.
Adye stood up.
"Attention,&=
quot;
said the Voice, and then fiercely, "Don't try any games. Remember I can
see your face if you can't see mine. You've got to go back to the house.&qu=
ot;
"He won't le=
t me
in," said Adye.
"That's a
pity," said the Invisible Man. "I've got no quarrel with you.&quo=
t;
Adye moistened his
lips again. He glanced away from the barrel of the revolver and saw the sea=
far
off very blue and dark under the midday sun, the smooth green down, the whi=
te
cliff of the Head, and the multitudinous town, and suddenly he knew that li=
fe
was very sweet. His eyes came back to this little metal thing hanging betwe=
en
heaven and earth, six yards away. "What am I to do?" he said
sullenly.
"What am I to
do?" asked the Invisible Man. "You will get help. The only thing =
is
for you to go back."
"I will try.=
If
he lets me in will you promise not to rush the door?"
"I've got no
quarrel with you," said the Voice.
Kemp had hurried
upstairs after letting Adye out, and now crouching among the broken glass a=
nd
peering cautiously over the edge of the study window sill, he saw Adye stand
parleying with the Unseen. "Why doesn't he fire?" whispered Kemp =
to himself.
Then the revolver moved a little and the glint of the sunlight flashed in
Kemp's eyes. He shaded his eyes and tried to see the source of the blinding
beam.
"Surely!&quo=
t;
he said, "Adye has given up the revolver."
"Promise not=
to
rush the door," Adye was saying. "Don't push a winning game too f=
ar.
Give a man a chance."
"You go back=
to
the house. I tell you flatly I will not promise anything."
Adye's decision
seemed suddenly made. He turned towards the house, walking slowly with his
hands behind him. Kemp watched him--puzzled. The revolver vanished, flashed
again into sight, vanished again, and became evident on a closer scrutiny a=
s a
little dark object following Adye. Then things happened very quickly. Adye
leapt backwards, swung around, clutched at this little object, missed it, t=
hrew
up his hands and fell forward on his face, leaving a little puff of blue in=
the
air. Kemp did not hear the sound of the shot. Adye writhed, raised himself =
on
one arm, fell forward, and lay still.
For a space Kemp
remained staring at the quiet carelessness of Adye's attitude. The afternoon
was very hot and still, nothing seemed stirring in all the world save a cou=
ple
of yellow butterflies chasing each other through the shrubbery between the
house and the road gate. Adye lay on the lawn near the gate. The blinds of =
all the
villas down the hill-road were drawn, but in one little green summer-house =
was
a white figure, apparently an old man asleep. Kemp scrutinised the surround=
ings
of the house for a glimpse of the revolver, but it had vanished. His eyes c=
ame
back to Adye. The game was opening well.
Then came a ringi=
ng
and knocking at the front door, that grew at last tumultuous, but pursuant =
to
Kemp's instructions the servants had locked themselves into their rooms. Th=
is
was followed by a silence. Kemp sat listening and then began peering cautio=
usly
out of the three windows, one after another. He went to the staircase head =
and
stood listening uneasily. He armed himself with his bedroom poker, and went=
to
examine the interior fastenings of the ground-floor windows again. Everythi=
ng
was safe and quiet. He returned to the belvedere. Adye lay motionless over =
the
edge of the gravel just as he had fallen. Coming along the road by the vill=
as were
the housemaid and two policemen.
Everything was de=
adly
still. The three people seemed very slow in approaching. He wondered what h=
is
antagonist was doing.
He started. There=
was
a smash from below. He hesitated and went downstairs again. Suddenly the ho=
use
resounded with heavy blows and the splintering of wood. He heard a smash and
the destructive clang of the iron fastenings of the shutters. He turned the=
key
and opened the kitchen door. As he did so, the shutters, split and splinter=
ing,
came flying inward. He stood aghast. The window frame, save for one crossba=
r,
was still intact, but only little teeth of glass remained in the frame. The
shutters had been driven in with an axe, and now the axe was descending in
sweeping blows upon the window frame and the iron bars defending it. Then
suddenly it leapt aside and vanished. He saw the revolver lying on the path
outside, and then the little weapon sprang into the air. He dodged back. Th=
e revolver
cracked just too late, and a splinter from the edge of the closing door fla=
shed
over his head. He slammed and locked the door, and as he stood outside he h=
eard
Griffin shouting and laughing. Then the blows of the axe with its splitting=
and
smashing consequences, were resumed.
Kemp stood in the
passage trying to think. In a moment the Invisible Man would be in the kitc=
hen.
This door would not keep him a moment, and then--
A ringing came at=
the
front door again. It would be the policemen. He ran into the hall, put up t=
he
chain, and drew the bolts. He made the girl speak before he dropped the cha=
in,
and the three people blundered into the house in a heap, and Kemp slammed t=
he
door again.
"The Invisib=
le
Man!" said Kemp. "He has a revolver, with two shots--left. He's
killed Adye. Shot him anyhow. Didn't you see him on the lawn? He's lying
there."
"Who?" =
said
one of the policemen.
"Adye,"
said Kemp.
"We came in =
the
back way," said the girl.
"What's that
smashing?" asked one of the policemen.
"He's in the
kitchen--or will be. He has found an axe--"
Suddenly the house
was full of the Invisible Man's resounding blows on the kitchen door. The g=
irl
stared towards the kitchen, shuddered, and retreated into the dining-room. =
Kemp
tried to explain in broken sentences. They heard the kitchen door give.
"This way,&q=
uot;
said Kemp, starting into activity, and bundled the policemen into the
dining-room doorway.
"Poker,"
said Kemp, and rushed to the fender. He handed the poker he had carried to =
the
policeman and the dining-room one to the other. He suddenly flung himself
backward.
"Whup!"
said one policeman, ducked, and caught the axe on his poker. The pistol sna=
pped
its penultimate shot and ripped a valuable Sidney Cooper. The second police=
man
brought his poker down on the little weapon, as one might knock down a wasp,
and sent it rattling to the floor.
At the first clash
the girl screamed, stood screaming for a moment by the fireplace, and then =
ran
to open the shutters--possibly with an idea of escaping by the shattered
window.
The axe receded i=
nto
the passage, and fell to a position about two feet from the ground. They co=
uld
hear the Invisible Man breathing. "Stand away, you two," he said.
"I want that man Kemp."
"We want
you," said the first policeman, making a quick step forward and wiping
with his poker at the Voice. The Invisible Man must have started back, and =
he blundered
into the umbrella stand.
Then, as the
policeman staggered with the swing of the blow he had aimed, the Invisible =
Man
countered with the axe, the helmet crumpled like paper, and the blow sent t=
he
man spinning to the floor at the head of the kitchen stairs. But the second
policeman, aiming behind the axe with his poker, hit something soft that
snapped. There was a sharp exclamation of pain and then the axe fell to the
ground. The policeman wiped again at vacancy and hit nothing; he put his fo=
ot
on the axe, and struck again. Then he stood, poker clubbed, listening intent
for the slightest movement.
He heard the
dining-room window open, and a quick rush of feet within. His companion rol=
led
over and sat up, with the blood running down between his eye and ear.
"Where is he?" asked the man on the floor.
"Don't know.
I've hit him. He's standing somewhere in the hall. Unless he's slipped past
you. Doctor Kemp--sir."
Pause.
"Doctor
Kemp," cried the policeman again.
The second police=
man
began struggling to his feet. He stood up. Suddenly the faint pad of bare f=
eet
on the kitchen stairs could be heard. "Yap!" cried the first
policeman, and incontinently flung his poker. It smashed a little gas brack=
et.
He made as if he
would pursue the Invisible Man downstairs. Then he thought better of it and
stepped into the dining-room.
"Doctor
Kemp--" he began, and stopped short.
"Doctor Kemp=
's a
hero," he said, as his companion looked over his shoulder.
The dining-room
window was wide open, and neither housemaid nor Kemp was to be seen.
The second
policeman's opinion of Kemp was terse and vivid.
CHAPTER XXVIII - THE HUNT=
ER
HUNTED
Mr. Heelas, Mr. Kemp's nearest neig=
hbour
among the villa holders, was asleep in his summer house when the siege of
Kemp's house began. Mr. Heelas was one of the sturdy minority who refused t=
o believe
"in all this nonsense" about an Invisible Man. His wife, however,=
as
he was subsequently to be reminded, did. He insisted upon walking about his
garden just as if nothing was the matter, and he went to sleep in the after=
noon
in accordance with the custom of years. He slept through the smashing of the
windows, and then woke up suddenly with a curious persuasion of something
wrong. He looked across at Kemp's house, rubbed his eyes and looked again. =
Then
he put his feet to the ground, and sat listening. He said he was damned, but
still the strange thing was visible. The house looked as though it had been
deserted for weeks--after a violent riot. Every window was broken, and every
window, save those of the belvedere study, was blinded by the internal
shutters.
"I could have
sworn it was all right"--he looked at his watch--"twenty minutes
ago."
He became aware o=
f a
measured concussion and the clash of glass, far away in the distance. And t=
hen,
as he sat open-mouthed, came a still more wonderful thing. The shutters of =
the
drawing-room window were flung open violently, and the housemaid in her out=
door
hat and garments, appeared struggling in a frantic manner to throw up the s=
ash.
Suddenly a man appeared beside her, helping her--Dr. Kemp! In another moment
the window was open, and the housemaid was struggling out; she pitched forw=
ard
and vanished among the shrubs. Mr. Heelas stood up, exclaiming vaguely and
vehemently at all these wonderful things. He saw Kemp stand on the sill, sp=
ring
from the window, and reappear almost instantaneously running along a path i=
n the
shrubbery and stooping as he ran, like a man who evades observation. He
vanished behind a laburnum, and appeared again clambering over a fence that
abutted on the open down. In a second he had tumbled over and was running a=
t a
tremendous pace down the slope towards Mr. Heelas.
"Lord!"
cried Mr. Heelas, struck with an idea; "it's that Invisible Man brute!
It's right, after all!"
With Mr. Heelas to
think things like that was to act, and his cook watching him from the top
window was amazed to see him come pelting towards the house at a good nine
miles an hour. There was a slamming of doors, a ringing of bells, and the v=
oice
of Mr. Heelas bellowing like a bull. "Shut the doors, shut the windows,
shut everything!--the Invisible Man is coming!" Instantly the house wa=
s full
of screams and directions, and scurrying feet. He ran himself to shut the
French windows that opened on the veranda; as he did so Kemp's head and
shoulders and knee appeared over the edge of the garden fence. In another
moment Kemp had ploughed through the asparagus, and was running across the
tennis lawn to the house.
"You can't c=
ome
in," said Mr. Heelas, shutting the bolts. "I'm very sorry if he's
after you, but you can't come in!"
Kemp appeared wit=
h a
face of terror close to the glass, rapping and then shaking frantically at =
the
French window. Then, seeing his efforts were useless, he ran along the vera=
nda,
vaulted the end, and went to hammer at the side door. Then he ran round by =
the
side gate to the front of the house, and so into the hill-road. And Mr. Hee=
las
staring from his window--a face of horror--had scarcely witnessed Kemp vani=
sh,
ere the asparagus was being trampled this way and that by feet unseen. At t=
hat
Mr. Heelas fled precipitately upstairs, and the rest of the chase is beyond=
his
purview. But as he passed the staircase window, he heard the side gate slam=
.
Emerging into the
hill-road, Kemp naturally took the downward direction, and so it was he cam=
e to
run in his own person the very race he had watched with such a critical eye
from the belvedere study only four days ago. He ran it well, for a man out =
of training,
and though his face was white and wet, his wits were cool to the last. He r=
an
with wide strides, and wherever a patch of rough ground intervened, wherever
there came a patch of raw flints, or a bit of broken glass shone dazzling, =
he
crossed it and left the bare invisible feet that followed to take what line
they would.
For the first tim=
e in
his life Kemp discovered that the hill-road was indescribably vast and
desolate, and that the beginnings of the town far below at the hill foot we=
re
strangely remote. Never had there been a slower or more painful method of
progression than running. All the gaunt villas, sleeping in the afternoon s=
un, looked
locked and barred; no doubt they were locked and barred--by his own orders.=
But
at any rate they might have kept a lookout for an eventuality like this! The
town was rising up now, the sea had dropped out of sight behind it, and peo=
ple
down below were stirring. A tram was just arriving at the hill foot. Beyond
that was the police station. Was that footsteps he heard behind him? Spurt.=
The people below =
were
staring at him, one or two were running, and his breath was beginning to sa=
w in
his throat. The tram was quite near now, and the "Jolly Cricketers&quo=
t;
was noisily barring its doors. Beyond the tram were posts and heaps of
gravel--the drainage works. He had a transitory idea of jumping into the tr=
am
and slamming the doors, and then he resolved to go for the police station. =
In
another moment he had passed the door of the "Jolly Cricketers," =
and
was in the blistering fag end of the street, with human beings about him. T=
he
tram driver and his helper--arrested by the sight of his furious haste--sto=
od
staring with the tram horses unhitched. Further on the astonished features =
of
navvies appeared above the mounds of gravel.
His pace broke a
little, and then he heard the swift pad of his pursuer, and leapt forward
again. "The Invisible Man!" he cried to the navvies, with a vague
indicative gesture, and by an inspiration leapt the excavation and placed a
burly group between him and the chase. Then abandoning the idea of the poli=
ce station
he turned into a little side street, rushed by a greengrocer's cart, hesita=
ted
for the tenth of a second at the door of a sweetstuff shop, and then made f=
or
the mouth of an alley that ran back into the main Hill Street again. Two or
three little children were playing here, and shrieked and scattered at his
apparition, and forthwith doors and windows opened and excited mothers reve=
aled
their hearts. Out he shot into Hill Street again, three hundred yards from =
the
tram-line end, and immediately he became aware of a tumultuous vociferation=
and
running people.
He glanced up the
street towards the hill. Hardly a dozen yards off ran a huge navvy, cursing=
in
fragments and slashing viciously with a spade, and hard behind him came the
tram conductor with his fists clenched. Up the street others followed these
two, striking and shouting. Down towards the town, men and women were runni=
ng,
and he noticed clearly one man coming out of a shop-door with a stick in his
hand. "Spread out! Spread out!" cried some one. Kemp suddenly gra=
sped
the altered condition of the chase. He stopped, and looked round, panting.
"He's close here!" he cried. "Form a line across--"
He was hit hard u=
nder
the ear, and went reeling, trying to face round towards his unseen antagoni=
st.
He just managed to keep his feet, and he struck a vain counter in the air. =
Then
he was hit again under the jaw, and sprawled headlong on the ground. In ano=
ther
moment a knee compressed his diaphragm, and a couple of eager hands gripped=
his
throat, but the grip of one was weaker than the other; he grasped the wrist=
s,
heard a cry of pain from his assailant, and then the spade of the navvy came
whirling through the air above him, and struck something with a dull thud. =
He
felt a drop of moisture on his face. The grip at his throat suddenly relaxe=
d,
and with a convulsive effort, Kemp loosed himself, grasped a limp shoulder,=
and
rolled uppermost. He gripped the unseen elbows near the ground. "I've =
got
him!" screamed Kemp. "Help! Help--hold! He's down! Hold his
feet!"
In another second
there was a simultaneous rush upon the struggle, and a stranger coming into=
the
road suddenly might have thought an exceptionally savage game of Rugby foot=
ball
was in progress. And there was no shouting after Kemp's cry--only a sound o=
f blows
and feet and heavy breathing.
Then came a mighty
effort, and the Invisible Man threw off a couple of his antagonists and ros=
e to
his knees. Kemp clung to him in front like a hound to a stag, and a dozen h=
ands
gripped, clutched, and tore at the Unseen. The tram conductor suddenly got =
the
neck and shoulders and lugged him back.
Down went the hea=
p of
struggling men again and rolled over. There was, I am afraid, some savage
kicking. Then suddenly a wild scream of "Mercy! Mercy!" that died
down swiftly to a sound like choking.
"Get back, y=
ou
fools!" cried the muffled voice of Kemp, and there was a vigorous shov=
ing
back of stalwart forms. "He's hurt, I tell you. Stand back!"
There was a brief
struggle to clear a space, and then the circle of eager faces saw the doctor
kneeling, as it seemed, fifteen inches in the air, and holding invisible ar=
ms
to the ground. Behind him a constable gripped invisible ankles.
"Don't you l=
eave
go of en," cried the big navvy, holding a blood-stained spade; "h=
e's
shamming."
"He's not
shamming," said the doctor, cautiously raising his knee; "and I'll
hold him." His face was bruised and already going red; he spoke thickly
because of a bleeding lip. He released one hand and seemed to be feeling at=
the
face. "The mouth's all wet," he said. And then, "Good God!&q=
uot;
He stood up abrup=
tly
and then knelt down on the ground by the side of the thing unseen. There wa=
s a
pushing and shuffling, a sound of heavy feet as fresh people turned up to
increase the pressure of the crowd. People now were coming out of the house=
s.
The doors of the "Jolly Cricketers" stood suddenly wide open. Very
little was said.
Kemp felt about, =
his
hand seeming to pass through empty air. "He's not breathing," he
said, and then, "I can't feel his heart. His side--ugh!"
Suddenly an old
woman, peering under the arm of the big navvy, screamed sharply. "Looky
there!" she said, and thrust out a wrinkled finger.
And looking where=
she
pointed, everyone saw, faint and transparent as though it was made of glass=
, so
that veins and arteries and bones and nerves could be distinguished, the
outline of a hand, a hand limp and prone. It grew clouded and opaque even as
they stared.
"Hullo!"
cried the constable. "Here's his feet a-showing!"
And so, slowly,
beginning at his hands and feet and creeping along his limbs to the vital
centres of his body, that strange change continued. It was like the slow
spreading of a poison. First came the little white nerves, a hazy grey sket=
ch
of a limb, then the glassy bones and intricate arteries, then the flesh and
skin, first a faint fogginess, and then growing rapidly dense and opaque. P=
resently
they could see his crushed chest and his shoulders, and the dim outline of =
his
drawn and battered features.
When at last the
crowd made way for Kemp to stand erect, there lay, naked and pitiful on the
ground, the bruised and broken body of a young man about thirty. His hair a=
nd
brow were white--not grey with age, but white with the whiteness of
albinism--and his eyes were like garnets. His hands were clenched, his eyes
wide open, and his expression was one of anger and dismay.
"Cover his
face!" said a man. "For Gawd's sake, cover that face!" and t=
hree
little children, pushing forward through the crowd, were suddenly twisted r=
ound
and sent packing off again.
Someone brought a
sheet from the "Jolly Cricketers," and having covered him, they
carried him into that house. And there it was, on a shabby bed in a tawdry,
ill-lighted bedroom, surrounded by a crowd of ignorant and excited people,
broken and wounded, betrayed and unpitied, that Griffin, the first of all m=
en
to make himself invisible, Griffin, the most gifted physicist the world has
ever seen, ended in infinite disaster his strange and terrible career.
THE EPILOGUE
So ends the story of the strange an=
d evil
experiments of the Invisible Man. And if you would learn more of him you mu=
st
go to a little inn near Port Stowe and talk to the landlord. The sign of the
inn is an empty board save for a hat and boots, and the name is the title of
this story. The landlord is a short and corpulent little man with a nose of
cylindrical proportions, wiry hair, and a sporadic rosiness of visage. Drink
generously, and he will tell you generously of all the things that happened=
to
him after that time, and of how the lawyers tried to do him out of the trea=
sure
found upon him.
"When they f=
ound
they couldn't prove who's money was which, I'm blessed," he says, &quo=
t;if
they didn't try to make me out a blooming treasure trove! Do I look like a
Treasure Trove? And then a gentleman gave me a guinea a night to tell the s=
tory
at the Empire Music 'All--just to tell 'em in my own words--barring one.&qu=
ot;
And if you want to
cut off the flow of his reminiscences abruptly, you can always do so by ask=
ing
if there weren't three manuscript books in the story. He admits there were =
and
proceeds to explain, with asseverations that everybody thinks he has 'em! B=
ut
bless you! he hasn't. "The Invisible Man it was took 'em off to hide '=
em
when I cut and ran for Port Stowe. It's that Mr. Kemp put people on with the
idea of my having 'em."
And then he subsi=
des
into a pensive state, watches you furtively, bustles nervously with glasses,
and presently leaves the bar.
He is a bachelor
man--his tastes were ever bachelor, and there are no women folk in the hous=
e.
Outwardly he buttons--it is expected of him--but in his more vital privacie=
s,
in the matter of braces for example, he still turns to string. He conducts =
his house
without enterprise, but with eminent decorum. His movements are slow, and h=
e is
a great thinker. But he has a reputation for wisdom and for a respectable
parsimony in the village, and his knowledge of the roads of the South of
England would beat Cobbett.
And on Sunday
mornings, every Sunday morning, all the year round, while he is closed to t=
he
outer world, and every night after ten, he goes into his bar parlour, beari=
ng a
glass of gin faintly tinged with water, and having placed this down, he loc=
ks
the door and examines the blinds, and even looks under the table. And then,=
being
satisfied of his solitude, he unlocks the cupboard and a box in the cupboard
and a drawer in that box, and produces three volumes bound in brown leather,
and places them solemnly in the middle of the table. The covers are
weather-worn and tinged with an algal green--for once they sojourned in a d=
itch
and some of the pages have been washed blank by dirty water. The landlord s=
its
down in an armchair, fills a long clay pipe slowly--gloating over the books=
the
while. Then he pulls one towards him and opens it, and begins to study
it--turning over the leaves backwards and forwards.
His brows are knit
and his lips move painfully. "Hex, little two up in the air, cross and=
a
fiddle-de-dee. Lord! what a one he was for intellect!"
Presently he rela=
xes
and leans back, and blinks through his smoke across the room at things
invisible to other eyes. "Full of secrets," he says. "Wonder=
ful
secrets!"
"Once I get =
the
haul of them--Lord!"
"I wouldn't =
do
what he did; I'd just--well!" He pulls at his pipe.
So he lapses into=
a
dream, the undying wonderful dream of his life. And though Kemp has fished
unceasingly, no human being save the landlord knows those books are there, =
with
the subtle secret of invisibility and a dozen other strange secrets written
therein. And none other will know of them until he dies.