Chapter VI

The Stranger without Disguise

The stranger remained in his room until noon. All that time he did not get any meals. He rang his bell several times, but no one answered him.

The news of the burglary at the Vicarage arrived, and they put two and two together.

What the stranger did is unknown. Now and then one could hear curses, and a violent smashing of bottles.

The little group of scared but curious people gathered near the inn.

About noon the stranger suddenly opened his door and stood looking at the three or four people in the bar. “Mrs. Hall,” he called. Somebody went and called for Mrs. Hall.

Mrs. Hall appeared after an interval. She had come holding an unsettled bill. “Is it your bill you want, sir?” she said.

“Why haven’t you prepared my breakfast?”

“Why isn’t my bill paid?” said Mrs. Hall.

“I told you three days ago I expected money to arrive —”

“I told you three days ago I wasn’t going to wait for any money to arrive.”

The stranger swore.

“And keep your swearing to yourself, sir,” said Mrs. Hall.

The stranger looked angrier than ever. “Look here, my good woman —” he began.

“Don’t ’good woman’ me,” said Mrs. Hall.

“My money hasn’t come. Still I have some in my pocket —”

“Before I take any money from you, or you get any breakfasts,” said Mrs. Hall, “you have to tell me one or two things I don’t understand. I want to know what you did to my chair, and I want to know how it was your room was empty and how you got in it again? And I want to know —”

Suddenly the stranger raised his gloved hands, and said. “Stop!” with extraordinary violence. “You don’t understand,” he said, “who I am or what I am. I’ll show you.” Then he put his hand over his face and gave Mrs. Hall something which she took automatically. Then, when she saw what it was, she screamed loudly, and dropped it. The nose – it was the stranger’s nose! pink and shining – lay on the floor. Then he took off his spectacles, his hat, and pulled at his whiskers and bandages. Off they came.

It was worse than anything. Mrs. Hall, standing open-mouthed and horrified, shrieked at what she saw, and ran to the door of the house.

Every one began to move. They were prepared for scars, disfigurement – but nothing! The bandages and false hair fell to the floor. Every one saw the figure up to the coat-collar, and then – nothing, nothing at all!

People down the street heard shouts and shrieks, and looking up the street saw a crowd running out of the “Coach and Horses”.

They saw Mrs. Hall fall down, and Mr. Teddy Henfrey jump over her.

Everyone all the way down the street began running towards the inn, and in a short time a crowd of perhaps forty people gathered in front of the “Coach and Horses”. Everybody talked at once.

A few minutes later they saw Mr. Hall, very red and serious, then Mr. Bobby Jaffers, the village constable, marching towards the house. Mr. Hall marched up the steps, to the stranger’s door and found it open. Jaffers marched in, Hall next. They saw the headless figure, with bread in one gloved hand and cheese in the other.

“What the devil’s this?” came an angry question from above the collar of the figure.

“I have a warrant here, mister,” said Mr. Jaffers.

“Keep off!” said the stranger. Off came his glove, and was thrown in Jaffers’s face. In another moment Jaffers gripped him by the handless arm. He was kicked on the leg, but he kept his grip. The stranger was now headless and handless – for he had pulled off his gloves.

It was the strangest thing in the world to hear that voice coming as out of nothing. Jaffers took out a pair of handcuffs. Then he looked helpless.

“Damn it! Can’t use them!”

The stranger unbuttoned his coat. Then he started doing something with his shoes and socks.

“Why!” said Hall suddenly, “that’s not a man at all. It’s just empty clothes. Look! You can see inside his clothes. I could put my arm —”

He stretched his hand; it seemed to meet something in the air. “I wish you’d keep your fingers out of my eye,” said the angry voice.

“The fact is, I’m all here: head, hands, legs and all the rest of it, but I’m invisible.”

The suit, now all unbuttoned and hanging on the invisible body, stood up.

Several other men had now entered the room, so it was crowded. “Invisible, eh?” said Jaffers.

“It’s strange, perhaps, but it’s not a crime. Why am I attacked by a policeman?”

“Ah!” said Jaffers. “No doubt you are a bit difficult to see in this light, but I got a warrant and it’s all correct. What I’m after isn’t invisibility, it’s burglary. Somebody has broken into a house and taken money.”

The figure sat down and took off the shoes, socks, and trousers.

“Stop that,” said Jaffers, suddenly realizing what was happening. He gripped the coat, it struggled, and the shirt slipped out of it and left it empty in his hand. “Hold him!” said Jaffers loudly. “When he gets the clothes off —”

“Hold him!” cried every one, trying to catch the white shirt, which was now all that was visible of the stranger.

“Hold him! Shut the door! Don’t let him out. I got something! Here he is!” A lot of noise they made. In another moment the struggling, excited men were in the crowded hall.

“I got him!” shouted Jaffers, fighting against his unseen enemy. He got a violent blow in the face, and his fingers relaxed.

Across the road a woman screamed as something hit her, a dog was kicked and ran away.

The Invisible Man escaped. For a minute people stood amazed, and then came panic, and they ran through the village. But Jaffers lay quite still at the steps of the inn.

Chapter VII

Mr. Thomas Marvel

Mr. Thomas Marvel was sitting by the roadside about a mile and a half out of Iping. He was looking at a pair of boots. They were the best boots he had had for a long time, but too large for him. Mr. Thomas Marvel hated large boots, but they were really good. He put the boots on the grass, and looked at them. It suddenly occurred to him that they were very ugly.

“They’re boots, anyhow,” said a Voice behind him.

“They are the ugliest pair in the whole world!”

“H’m,” said the Voice.

“A gentleman on tramp sees a lot of boots. They give you good boots in this county. I’ve got my boots in this county ten years or more. And then they give you something like this.”

“It’s an ugly county,” said the Voice, “and pigs for people.”

Mr. Thomas Marvel turned his head over his shoulder first to the right, then to the left to look at the boots of the man he was talking to, but saw neither legs nor boots. He was greatly amazed. “Where are you?” said Mr. Thomas Marvel. He saw nothing but grass and bushes.

“Am I drunk?” said Mr. Marvel. “Have I had visions? Was I talking to myself?”

“Don’t be alarmed,” said the Voice.

“Where are you? Are you buried?” said Mr. Thomas Marvel after an interval.

There was no answer. The road was empty north and south, and the blue sky was empty too.

“It’s the drink,” said Mr. Thomas Marvel.

“It’s not the drink,” said the Voice.

“Oh!” said Mr. Marvel, and his face grew white. “It’s the drink,” he repeated. “I could have sworn I heard a voice,” he whispered.

“Of course you did.”

“It’s there again,” said Mr. Marvel, closing his eyes with his hands. He was suddenly taken by the collar and shaken violently.

“Don’t be a fool!” said the Voice.

“I’m mad! Or it’s spirits!” said Mr. Marvel.

“Neither mad nor spirits,” said the Voice.

“Listen! You think I’m just imagination?”

“What else can you be?” said Mr. Thomas Marvel.

“Very well,” said the Voice. “Then I’m going to throw stones at you.”

A stone flew through the air and hit Mr. Marvel’s shoulder. Mr. Marvel, turning, saw a stone hang in the air for a moment, and then fall at his feet. Another stone hit his foot. The tramp jumped, and screamed.

“Now,” said the Voice, “am I imagination?”

“I don’t understand it. Stones throwing themselves. Stones talking.”

“It’s very simple,” said the Voice. “I’m an invisible man. That’s what I want you to understand.”

“But where are you?” asked Mr. Marvel.

“Here! Six yards in front of you.”

“Oh, come! I’m not blind.”

“You’re looking through me.”

“What!”

“I am just a man who needs food and drink, clothes, too … But I’m invisible. You see? Invisible. Simple idea. Invisible.”

“What, real?”

“Yes, real.”

“Give me your hand,” said Marvel, “if you are real.”

He felt a hand touch his arm, then his face.

“Most remarkable!” Marvel’s face showed astonishment. “And there I can see a rabbit through you a mile away! Not a bit of you visible – except —”

He looked carefully in front of him. “Have you been eating bread and cheese?” he asked.

“You are quite right. It’s not assimilated into the system.”

“Ah!” said Mr. Marvel. “How did you do it?”

“It’s too long a story. I need help. I saw you suddenly. I was walking, mad with rage, naked, helpless, I could have murdered … And I saw you – ‘Here,’ I said ‘is an outcast like myself. This is the man for me.’ So I turned back and came to you.”

“Lord!” said Mr. Marvel. “But how can I help you?”

“I want you to help me get clothes and shelter, and then with other things. If you won’t —… But you will – must. 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.

He touched Mr. Marvel’s shoulder. Mr. Marvel gave a cry of terror at the touch. “I don’t want to betray you,” said Mr. Marvel. “All I want to do is to help you – just tell me what I have to do. I’ll do what you want.”