The Invisible Man

“Listen,” 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 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, 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 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, 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 run about stark—6the evenings are chilly. I want clothing— and other accommodation. And I must also have those three books.”

CHAPTER XII THE INVISIBLE MAN LOSES HIS TEMPER

It is unavoidable that at this point the narrative should break off again, for a certain very painful reason that will presently be apparent. And 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 Hen–frey discussing in a state of cloudy puzzlement the one Iping topic.

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

“Hul–lo!” said Teddy Henfrey.

“Hul–lo!” from the tap.

Mr. Hall took things 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. “Summat1 wrong,” said Hall, and Henfrey nodded agreement. Whiffs of an unpleasant chemical odour met them, and there was a muffled sound of conversation, very rapid and subdued.

“You all raight, thur?”2 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!”3 There came a sudden motion and the oversetting of a chair, a brief struggle. Silence again.

“What the dooce!” exclaimed Henfrey sotto voce.4

“You—all—raight—thur?” asked Mr. Hall sharply again.

The vicar’s voice answered with a curious jerking intonation. “Quite ri–ight. Please don’t—interrupt.”

“Odd!” said Mr. Henfrey.

“Odd!” said Mr. Hall.

“Says, ’Don’t interrupt,’ ” said Henfrey.

“I heerd’n,”5 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 speakin’ to us, wuz he?”

“Disgraceful!” said Mr. Bunting within.

“ ’Disgraceful,’ ” 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 sounds within indistinct and perplexing.

“Sounds like throwing the tablecloth about,” said Hall.

Mrs. Hall appeared behind the bar. Hall made gestures of silence and invitation. This roused Mrs. Hall’s wifely opposition.

“What yer listenin’ there for, Hall?” she asked. “Ain’t you nothin’ better to do—busy day like this?”

Hall tried to convey everything by grimaces and dumb show,6 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 refused 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 about.

“I heerd’n say ’disgraceful’; that I did,” said Hall.

“I heard that, Mis’ Hall,” said Henfrey.

“Like as not,”7 began Mrs. Hall.

“Hsh!” said Mr. Teddy Henfrey. “Didn’t I hear the window?”

“What window?” asked Mrs. Hall.

“Parlour window,” said Henfrey.

Every one stood listening intently. Mrs. Hall’s eyes, directed straight before her, saw, without 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 opened, 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 came a tumult from the parlour, and a sound of windows being closed.