Человек-невидимка / The Invisible Man + аудиоприложение

“Of course,” said Mr. Bunting, wiping his spectacles and feeling suddenly very uncomfortable-for he had no Greek left in his mind worth talking about; “yes-the Greek, of course, may give us a clue.”

“I’ll find you a place.”

“I’d rather glance through the volumes first,” said Mr. Bunting, still wiping his glasses. “A general impression first, Cuss, and then, you know, we can try to find the clue.”

He coughed, put on his glasses, coughed again. Then he took the volume Cuss handed him. And then something happened.

The door opened suddenly.

Both gentlemen started violently, looked round, and were relieved to see a rosy face beneath a furry silk hat.

“Whisky?” asked the face.

“No,” said both gentlemen at once.

“Over the other side, my man,” said Mr. Bunting. “And please shut that door,” said Mr. Cuss, irritably.

“All right,” said the intruder and he vanished and closed the door.

“A sailor, I think,” said Mr. Bunting. “Amusing fellows, they are.”

“It quite made me jump,” said Cuss. “The door was opening like that.”

Mr. Bunting smiled as if he had not jumped.

“And now,” he said with a sigh, “these books.”

Someone sniffed as he did so.

“One thing is indisputable,” said Bunting, drawing up a chair next to that of Cuss. “Very strange things happened 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? Hallucinations are so easily produced. I don’t know if you have ever seen a really good conjuror.”

“I won’t argue again,” said Cuss. “We’ve discussed all that already, Bunting. And now there are these books. Ah! Greek letters certainly.”

He pointed to the middle of the page. Mr. Bunting flushed slightly and brought his face nearer, apparently finding some difficulty with his glasses. Suddenly he felt a strange feeling at the nape of his neck. He tried to raise his head, and encountered an immovable resistance. The feeling was a curious pressure: a heavy, firm hand bore his chin to the table.

“Don’t move, gentlemen” whispered a voice.

Mr. Bunting looked into the face of Cuss, and saw a reflection of his own astonishment.

“I’m sorry to treat you like this,” said the Voice, “but it’s unavoidable. Since when did you learn to pry into an investigator’s private memoranda?”

Two chins struck the table simultaneously, and two sets of teeth rattled.

“Where have they put my clothes? Listen,” said the Voice. “The windows are fastened and I’ve taken the key out of the door. I am a strong man, and I have the poker-besides being invisible. There’s not the slightest doubt that I could kill you both and get away quite easily if I wanted to-do you understand? Very well. If I let you go, will you promise not to try any nonsense and do what I tell you?”

The vicar and the doctor looked at one another.

“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 poker to the tip of the nose of each of his visitors, “I did not expect to find it occupied, and I expected to find, in addition to my books of memoranda, my clothing. Where is it? No-don’t rise. I can see it’s gone. Though the days are warm enough for an invisible man, the evenings are quite chilly. I want clothing-and I must also have those three books.”

Chapter XII The Invisible Man Loses His Temper

At this point the narrative should break off again. 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 the event in Iping.

Suddenly there came a violent thud against the door of the parlour, a sharp cry, and then-silence.

“Hallo!” said Teddy Henfrey.

Mr. Hall understood things slowly but surely.

“That isn’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.

“Something wrong,” said Hall, and Henfrey nodded.

Whiffs of an unpleasant chemical odour met them, and there was a muffled sound of conversation, very rapid and subdued.

“Are you all right there?” asked Hall, rapping.

The muttered conversation 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 a brief struggle. Silence again.

“What the devil?” exclaimed Henfrey.

“Are you all right there?” asked Mr. Hall, sharply, again.

The Vicar’s voice answered with a curious jerking intonation:

“Quite right. Please don’t interrupt.”

“Odd!” said Mr. Henfrey.

“Odd!” said Mr. Hall.

“They say, ‘Don’t interrupt,’” said Henfrey.