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 be
possible. Outside the night was very quiet and still, and the new
moon was setting over the down. Then he examined the keys of the
bedroom and the two dressing-room doors, to satisfy himself that
these also could be made an assurance of freedom. Finally he
expressed himself satisfied. He stood on the hearth-rug and Kemp
heard the sound of a yawn.
"I'm sorry," said the Invisible Man, "if I cannot
tell you all that I have done to-night. But I am worn out. It's
grotesque, no doubt. It's horrible! But believe me, Kemp, it is
quite a possible thing. I have made a discovery. I meant to keep it
to myself. I can't. I must have a partner. And you--We can do such
things--But to-morrow. Now, Kemp, I feel as though I must sleep or
perish."
Kemp stood in the middle of the room staring at the headless
garment. "I suppose I must leave you," he said.
"It's--incredible. Three things happening like this,
overturning all my preconceptions, would make me insane. But it's
real! Is there anything more that I can get you?"
"Only bid me good-night," said Griffin.
"Good-night," said Kemp, and shook an invisible hand.
He walked sideways to the door. Suddenly the dressing-gown walked
quickly towards him. "Understand me!" said the
dressing-gown. "No attempts to hamper me, or capture me!
Or--"
Kemp's face changed a little. "I thought I gave you my
word," he said.
Kemp closed the door softly behind him, and the key was turned
upon him forthwith. Then, as he stood with an expression of passive
amazement on his face, the rapid feet came to the door of the
dressing-room and that too was locked. Kemp slapped his brow with
his hand. "Am I dreaming? Has the world gone mad--or have
I?"
He laughed, and put his hand to the locked door. "Barred out
of my own bedroom, by a flagrant absurdity!" he said.
He walked to the head of the staircase, turned, and stared at the
locked doors. "It's fact," he said. He put his fingers to
his slightly bruised neck. "Undeniable fact!
"But--"
He shook his head hopelessly, turned, and went downstairs.
He lit the dining-room lamp, got out a cigar, and began pacing
the room, ejaculating. Now and then he would argue with himself.
"Invisible!" he said.
"Is there such a thing as an invisible animal? In the sea,
yes. Thousands! millions! All the larvae, all the little nauplii and
tornarias, all the microscopic things, the jelly-fish. In the sea
there are more things invisible than visible! I never thought of
that before. And in the ponds too! All those little pond-life
things-- specks of colourless translucent jelly! But in air? No!
"It can't be.
"But after all--why not?
"If a man was made of glass he would still be visible."
His meditation became profound. The bulk of three cigars had
passed into the invisible or diffused as a white ash over the carpet
before he spoke again. Then it was merely an exclamation. He turned
aside, walked out of the room, and went into his little consulting-
room and lit the gas there. It was a little room, because Dr. Kemp
did not live by practice, and in it were the day's newspapers. The
morning's paper lay carelessly opened and thrown aside. He caught it
up, turned it over, and read the account of a "Strange Story
from Iping" that the Mariner at Port Stowe had spelt over so
painfully to Mr. Marvel. Kemp read it swiftly.
"Wrapped up!" said Kemp. "Disguised! Hiding it!
'No one seems to have been aware of his misfortune.' What the devil
is his game?"
He dropped the paper, and his eye went seeking. "Ah!"
he said, and caught up the St. James' Gazette, lying folded up as it
arrived. "Now we shall get at the truth," said Dr. Kemp.
He rent the paper open; a couple of columns confronted him. "An
Entire Village in Sussex goes Mad" was the heading.
"Good Heavens!" said Kemp, reading eagerly an
incredulous account of the events in Iping the previous afternoon,
that have already been described. Over the leaf the report in the
morning paper had been reprinted.
He re-read it. "Ran through the streets striking right and
left. Jaffers insensible. Mr. Huxter in great pain--still unable to
describe what he saw. Painful humiliation--vicar. Women ill with
terror! Windows smashed. This extraordinary story probably a
fabrication. Too good not to print--cum grano!"
He dropped the paper and stared blankly in front of him.
"Probably a fabrication!"
He caught up the paper again, and re-read the whole business.
"But where does the Tramp come in? Why the deuce was he chasing
a Tramp?"
He sat down abruptly on the surgical couch. "He's not only
invisible," he said, "but he's mad! Homicidal!"
When dawn came to mingle its pallor with the lamp-light and cigar
smoke of the dining-room, Kemp was still pacing up and down, trying
to grasp the incredible.
He was altogether too excited to sleep. His servants, descending
sleepily, discovered him, and were inclined to think that overstudy
had worked this ill on him. He gave them extraordinary but quite
explicit instructions to lay breakfast for two in the belvedere
study--and then to confine themselves to the basement and ground-
floor. Then he continued to pace the dining-room until the morning's
paper came. That had much to say and little to tell, beyond the
confirmation of the evening before and a very baldly written account
of another remarkable tale from Port Burdock. This gave Kemp the
essence of the happenings at the Jolly Cricketers, and the name of
Marvel. "He has made me keep with him twenty-four hours,"
Marvel testified. Certain minor facts were added to the Iping story,
notably the cutting of the village telegraph-wire. But there was
nothing to throw light on the connection between the Invisible Man
and the Tramp; for Mr. Marvel had supplied no information about the
three books, or the money with which he was lined. The incredulous
tone had vanished and a shoal of reporters and inquirers were
already at work elaborating the matter.
Kemp read every scrap of the report and sent his housemaid out to
get every one of the morning papers she could. These also he
devoured.
"He is invisible!" he said. "And it reads like
rage growing to mania! The things he may do! The things he may do!
And he's upstairs free as the air. What on earth ought I to do?
"For instance, would it be a breach of faith if--? No."
He went to a little untidy desk in the corner, and began a note.
He tore this up half written, and wrote another. He read it over and
considered it. Then he took an envelope and addressed it to
"Colonel Adye, Port Burdock."
The Invisible Man awoke even as Kemp was doing this. He awoke in
an evil temper, and Kemp, alert for every sound, heard his pattering
feet rush suddenly across the bedroom overhead. Then a chair was
flung over and the wash-hand stand tumbler smashed. Kemp hurried
upstairs and rapped eagerly.
