coagulates, I see. It's only the living tissue I've changed, and
only for as long as I'm alive.... I've been in the house three hours."
"But how's it done?" began Kemp, in a tone of exasperation.
"Confound it! The whole business—it's unreasonable from
beginning to end."
"Quite reasonable," said the Invisible Man. "Perfectly reasonable."
He reached over and secured the whiskey bottle. Kemp stared at the
devouring dressing gown. A ray of candle-light penetrating a torn
patch in the right shoulder, made a triangle of light under the
left ribs. "What were the shots?" he asked. "How did the shooting
begin?"
"There was a real fool of a man—a sort of confederate of
mine—curse him!—who tried to steal my money.
Has
done so."
"Is
he
invisible too?"
"No."
"Well?"
"Can't I have some more to eat before I tell you all that? I'm
hungry—in pain. And you want me to tell stories!"
Kemp got up. "
You
didn't do any shooting?" he asked.
"Not me," said his visitor. "Some fool I'd never seen fired at
random. A lot of them got scared. They all got scared at me. Curse
them!—I say—I want more to eat than this, Kemp."
"I'll see what there is to eat downstairs," said Kemp. "Not much,
I'm afraid."
After he had done eating, and he made a heavy meal, the Invisible
Man demanded a cigar. He bit the end savagely before Kemp could
find a knife, and cursed when the outer leaf loosened. It was
strange to see him smoking; his mouth, and throat, pharynx and
nares, became visible as a sort of whirling smoke cast.
"This blessed gift of smoking!" he said, and puffed vigorously.
"I'm lucky to have fallen upon you, Kemp. You must help me. Fancy
tumbling on you just now! I'm in a devilish scrape—I've been mad,
I think. The things I have been through! But we will do things yet.
Let me tell you—"
He helped himself to more whiskey and soda. Kemp got up, looked
about him, and fetched a glass from his spare room. "It's wild—but
I suppose I may drink."
"You haven't changed much, Kemp, these dozen years. You fair men
don't. Cool and methodical—after the first collapse. I must tell
you. We will work together!"
"But how was it all done?" said Kemp, "and how did you get like
this?"
"For God's sake, let me smoke in peace for a little while! And then
I will begin to tell you."
But the story was not told that night. The Invisible Man's wrist
was growing painful; he was feverish, exhausted, and his mind came
round to brood upon his chase down the hill and the struggle about
the inn. He spoke in fragments of Marvel, he smoked faster, his
voice grew angry. Kemp tried to gather what he could.
"He was afraid of me, I could see that he was afraid of me," said
the Invisible Man many times over. "He meant to give me the slip—he
was always casting about! What a fool I was!"
"The cur!
"I should have killed him!"
"Where did you get the money?" asked Kemp, abruptly.
The Invisible Man was silent for a space. "I can't tell you
to-night," he said.
He groaned suddenly and leant forward, supporting his invisible
head on invisible hands. "Kemp," he said, "I've had no sleep for
near three days, except a couple of dozes of an hour or so. I
must sleep soon."
"Well, have my room—have this room."
"But how can I sleep? If I sleep—he will get away. Ugh! What
does it matter?"
"What's the shot wound?" asked Kemp, abruptly.
"Nothing—scratch and blood. Oh, God! How I want sleep!"
"Why not?"
The Invisible Man appeared to be regarding Kemp. "Because I've a
particular objection to being caught by my fellow-men," he said
slowly.
Kemp started.
"Fool that I am!" said the Invisible Man, striking the table
smartly. "I've put the idea into your head."
Chapter XVIII - The Invisible Man Sleeps
*
Exhausted and wounded as the Invisible Man was, he refused to accept
Kemp's word that his freedom should be respected. He examined the
two windows of the bedroom, drew up the blinds and opened the
sashes, to confirm Kemp's statement that a retreat by them would
only for as long as I'm alive.... I've been in the house three hours."
"But how's it done?" began Kemp, in a tone of exasperation.
"Confound it! The whole business—it's unreasonable from
beginning to end."
"Quite reasonable," said the Invisible Man. "Perfectly reasonable."
He reached over and secured the whiskey bottle. Kemp stared at the
devouring dressing gown. A ray of candle-light penetrating a torn
patch in the right shoulder, made a triangle of light under the
left ribs. "What were the shots?" he asked. "How did the shooting
begin?"
"There was a real fool of a man—a sort of confederate of
mine—curse him!—who tried to steal my money.
Has
done so."
"Is
he
invisible too?"
"No."
"Well?"
"Can't I have some more to eat before I tell you all that? I'm
hungry—in pain. And you want me to tell stories!"
Kemp got up. "
You
didn't do any shooting?" he asked.
"Not me," said his visitor. "Some fool I'd never seen fired at
random. A lot of them got scared. They all got scared at me. Curse
them!—I say—I want more to eat than this, Kemp."
"I'll see what there is to eat downstairs," said Kemp. "Not much,
I'm afraid."
After he had done eating, and he made a heavy meal, the Invisible
Man demanded a cigar. He bit the end savagely before Kemp could
find a knife, and cursed when the outer leaf loosened. It was
strange to see him smoking; his mouth, and throat, pharynx and
nares, became visible as a sort of whirling smoke cast.
"This blessed gift of smoking!" he said, and puffed vigorously.
"I'm lucky to have fallen upon you, Kemp. You must help me. Fancy
tumbling on you just now! I'm in a devilish scrape—I've been mad,
I think. The things I have been through! But we will do things yet.
Let me tell you—"
He helped himself to more whiskey and soda. Kemp got up, looked
about him, and fetched a glass from his spare room. "It's wild—but
I suppose I may drink."
"You haven't changed much, Kemp, these dozen years. You fair men
don't. Cool and methodical—after the first collapse. I must tell
you. We will work together!"
"But how was it all done?" said Kemp, "and how did you get like
this?"
"For God's sake, let me smoke in peace for a little while! And then
I will begin to tell you."
But the story was not told that night. The Invisible Man's wrist
was growing painful; he was feverish, exhausted, and his mind came
round to brood upon his chase down the hill and the struggle about
the inn. He spoke in fragments of Marvel, he smoked faster, his
voice grew angry. Kemp tried to gather what he could.
"He was afraid of me, I could see that he was afraid of me," said
the Invisible Man many times over. "He meant to give me the slip—he
was always casting about! What a fool I was!"
"The cur!
"I should have killed him!"
"Where did you get the money?" asked Kemp, abruptly.
The Invisible Man was silent for a space. "I can't tell you
to-night," he said.
He groaned suddenly and leant forward, supporting his invisible
head on invisible hands. "Kemp," he said, "I've had no sleep for
near three days, except a couple of dozes of an hour or so. I
must sleep soon."
"Well, have my room—have this room."
"But how can I sleep? If I sleep—he will get away. Ugh! What
does it matter?"
"What's the shot wound?" asked Kemp, abruptly.
"Nothing—scratch and blood. Oh, God! How I want sleep!"
"Why not?"
The Invisible Man appeared to be regarding Kemp. "Because I've a
particular objection to being caught by my fellow-men," he said
slowly.
Kemp started.
"Fool that I am!" said the Invisible Man, striking the table
smartly. "I've put the idea into your head."
Chapter XVIII - The Invisible Man Sleeps
*
Exhausted and wounded as the Invisible Man was, he refused to accept
Kemp's word that his freedom should be respected. He examined the
two windows of the bedroom, drew up the blinds and opened the
sashes, to confirm Kemp's statement that a retreat by them would
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