“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 make myself a strange and terrible thing. I was fasting; for to eat,
to fill myself with unassimilated matter, would be to become grotesquely
visible again.”
“I never thought 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 went abroad in the
London air I gathered dirt about my ankles, floating smuts and dust upon 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 London at any rate.
“I went into the slums towards Great Portland Street, and
found myself at the end of the street 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 and noses. I realised that
problem was solved. In a flash I saw my course. I turned 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 Street, turned upon me
abruptly and came into me, sending me into the road and almost 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 stall 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 through 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 stand, 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.
“My plans were now perfectly definite. I proposed to
make my way into the house, secrete myself upstairs, watch my opportunity, and
when everything was quiet, rummage 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 rob 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 forward to follow him, and at the noise of my
movement he stopped dead. I did so too, 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 satisfied. 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 open and I slipped into the
inner room.
“It was a queer 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 they were all
shut. I could not get out of the room while he was there; I could
scarcely move because of his alertness, and there was a draught down my
back. Twice I strangled a sneeze just in time.
“The spectacular quality of my sensations was curious and
novel, but for all that I was heartily 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 had 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 the 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 scullery. 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 door. 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 was 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 him. 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 the threat
unfinished. He put his hand in his pocket, failed to find what he wanted,
and 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 possible. 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 unfurnished, and others were
littered with theatrical lumber, bought second-hand, I judged, 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 clothes before I did anything
further, and my first attempt brought down a pile from 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 myself sufficiently to watch my
opportunity. By this time I knew he was alone in the 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 stood 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 that house in a disguise without his seeing
me. I couldn’t think of any other way 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, and 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 me ”
“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 enough 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, after 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 house, 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 blame anyone,” said Kemp. “It’s quite out of
fashion. What did you do next?”
“I was hungry. Downstairs I found a loaf and some rank
cheese more than sufficient to satisfy 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 excitement 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 garments.
“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 possession, and some
powder, rouge, and sticking-plaster.
“I had thought 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 amount of time before I could vanish again.
Finally I chose a mask of the better type, 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 burst 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 the 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 down 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,” said 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 happened when you went out into the Strand?”
“Oh! disillusionment again. I thought my troubles
were over. Practically I thought I had impunity 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 had merely
to fling aside my garments and vanish. No person could hold me. I
could take 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 to 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 said. ‘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 line 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. That 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 politics, 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 there to work. I had one hope. It was a
half idea! I have it still. It is a full blown idea now. A
way of getting back! Of restoring what I have done. When I
choose. When I have done all I mean to do invisibly. And that is
what I chiefly want 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 started. 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 out, you rather to judge by the papers ”
“I did. Rather. Did I kill that fool of a
constable?”
“No,” said 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 ever been created has been sent to
cross me.
“If I have much 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.
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