Человек-невидимка / The Invisible Man + аудиоприложение

Mrs. Hall could hear the murmur of voices for the next ten minutes, then a cry of surprise, a chair flung aside, a laughter, quick steps to the door, and Cuss appeared, his face white, his eyes huge. 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 strange laughing, and then footsteps came across the room. She could not see his face where she stood. The parlour door slammed, and the place was silent again.

Cuss went straight 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.

“That chap at the inn-”

“Well?”

“Give me something to drink,” said Cuss, and he sat down. Then told the vicar of the interview he had just had.

“I went in,” he gasped, “he had his hands in his pockets as I came in, and he sat down in his chair. I told him I’d heard he took an interest in science. He said yes. Then he sniffed. I kept my eyes open. Bottles-chemicals-everywhere. Balance, test-tubes, and a smell of evening primrose. I asked him if he was researching. He said he was. A long research? ‘A damnable long research,’ said he. ‘Oh,’ said I. He had been given a prescription, most valuable prescription-what for he wouldn’t say. Was it medical? ‘Damn you! That’s none of your business!’ I apologised. He read the prescription. Five ingredients. He put it down and turned his head. Draught of air from window lifted the paper. He was working in a room with an open fireplace. I saw a flicker, and there was the prescription burning and lifting chimney ward. He rushed towards it just as it whisked up the chimney. So! He lifted his arm. And that time…”

“Well?”

“No hand-just an empty sleeve. Lord! I thought, there’s something odd in that. What the devil keeps that sleeve up and open, if there’s nothing in it? There was nothing in it, I tell you. Nothing, absolutely nothing! I could see right down it to the elbow, and there was a glimmer of light shining through a tear of the cloth. ‘Good God!’ I said. Then he stopped. Stared at me with those black glasses 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 quickly. ‘How the devil,’ said I, ‘can you move an empty sleeve like that?’ ‘Empty sleeve?’ ‘Yes,’ said I, ‘an empty sleeve.’ ‘It’s an empty sleeve, is it? You saw it was an empty sleeve?’ He stood up right away. I stood up too. He came towards me in three very slow steps, and stood quite close. ‘You said it was an empty sleeve?’ he said. ‘Certainly,’ I said. 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. ‘Well?’ said I, clearing my throat, ‘there’s nothing in it.’ 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. “It’s all very well for you to laugh, but I tell you I was so startled, I hit his cuff hard, and turned around, and ran out of the room.”

Cuss stopped. There was no mistaking the sincerity of his panic.

“When I hit his cuff,” said Cuss, “I tell you, it felt exactly like hitting an arm. And there wasn’t an arm! There wasn’t the ghost of an arm!”

Mr. Bunting thought 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, “a most remarkable story.”

Chapter V The Burglary at the Vicarage

The facts of the burglary at the vicarage came to us chiefly through the stories of the vicar and his wife. It occurred in the morning. Mrs. Bunting 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, but sat up in bed listening. She then distinctly heard the bare feet coming out of the dressing-room and walking along the passage towards the staircase. As soon as she felt assured of this, she aroused Mr. Bunting as quietly as possible. He put on his spectacles, her dressing-gown and his slippers, and went out to listen. He heard quite distinctly a noise at his study downstairs, and then a sneeze.

At that he returned to his bedroom, armed himself with the poker, and descended the staircase as noiselessly as possible. Mrs. Bunting came out, too.