Time Machine and The Invisible Man (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) by H. G. Wells Page A

head.”
    “It’s a fair do,” hf said Mr. Thomas Marvel, sitting up, taking his wounded toe in hand and fixing his eye on the third missile. “I don’t understand it. Stones flinging themselves. Stones talking. Put yourself down. Rot away. hg I’m done.”
    The third flint fell.
    “It’s very simple,” said the voice. “I’m an invisible man.”
    “Tell us something I don’t know,” said Mr. Marvel, gasping with pain. “Where you’ve hid—how you do it—I don’t know. I’m beat.”
    “That’s all,” said the voice. “I’m invisible. That’s what I want you to understand.”
    “Any one could see that. There is no need for you to be so confounded impatient, mister. Now then. Give us a notion. How are you hid?”
    “I’m invisible. That’s the great point. And what I want you to understand is this—”
    “But whereabouts?” interrupted Mr. Marvel.
    “Here! Six yards in front of you.”
    “Oh, come! I ain’t blind. You’ll be telling me next you’re just thin air. I’m not one of your ignorant tramps—”
    “Yes, I am—thin air. You’re looking through me.”
    “What! Ain’t there any stuff to you? Vox et hh —what is it?—jabber. hi Is it that?”
    “I am just a human being—solid, needing food and drink, needing covering too—But I’m invisible. You see? Invisible. Simple idea. Invisible.”
    “What, real like?”
    “Yes, real.”
    “Let’s have a hand of you,” said Marvel, “if you are real. It won’t be so darn out-of-the-way like, then— Lord!” he said, “how you made me jump!—gripping me like that!”
    He felt the hand that had closed round his wrist with his disengaged fingers, and his fingers went timorously up the arm, patted a muscular chest, and explored a bearded face. Marvel’s face was astonishment.
    “I’m dashed!” he said. “If this don’t beat cock-fighting! Most remarkable!—And there I can see a rabbit clean through you, ‘arf a mile away! Not a bit of you visible—except—”
    He scrutinised the apparently empty space keenly. “You ‘aven’t been eatin’ bread and cheese?” 1 he asked, holding the invisible arm.
    “You’re quite right, and it’s not quite assimilated into the system.”
    “Ah!” said Mr. Marvel. “Sort of ghostly, though.”
    “Of course, all this isn’t half so wonderful as you think.”
    “It’s quite wonderful enough for my modest wants,” said Mr. Thomas Marvel. “Howjer manage it! How the dooce is it done?”
    “It’s too long a story. And besides—”
    “I tell you, the whole business fair beats me,” said Mr. Marvel.
    “What I want to say at present is this: I need help. I have come to that—I came upon you suddenly. I was wandering, mad with rage, naked, impotent. hj I could have murdered. And I saw you—”
    “Lord!” said Mr. Marvel.
    “I came up behind you—hesitated—went on—”
    Mr. Marvel’s expression was eloquent.
    “—then stopped. ‘Here,’ I said, ‘is an out-cast like myself. This is the man for me.’ So I turned back and came to you—you. And—”
    “Lord!” said Mr. Marvel. “But I’m all in a dizzy. hk May I ask—How is it? And what you may be requiring in the way of help?—Invisible!”
    “I want you to help me get clothes—and shelter—and then, with other things. I’ve left them long enough. If you won‘t—well! But you will—must.” 2
    “Look here,” said Mr. Marvel. “I’m too flabbergasted. Don’t knock me about any more. And leave me go. I must get steady a bit. And you’ve pretty near broken my toe. It’s all so unreasonable. Empty downs, empty sky. Nothing visible for miles except the bosom of Nature. And then comes a voice. A voice out of heaven! And stones! And a fist!—Lord!”
    “Pull yourself together,” said the voice, “for you have to do the job I’ve chosen for you.”
    Mr. Marvel blew out his cheeks, and his eyes were round.
    “I’ve chosen you,” said the voice. “You are the only man except some of those