"But now," said Kemp, with a side glance out of the
window, "what are we to do?"
He moved nearer his guest as he spoke in such a manner as to
prevent the possibility of a glimpse of the three men who were
advancing up the hill road--with an intolerable slowness, as it
seemed to Kemp.
"What were you planning to do when you were heading for Port
Burdock? Had you any plan?"
"I was going to clear out of the country. But I have altered
that plan rather since seeing you. I thought it would be wise, now
the weather is hot and invisibility possible, to make for the South.
Especially as my secret was known, and every one would be on the
lookout for a masked and muffled man. You have a line of steamers
from here to France. My idea was to get aboard one and run the risks
of the passage. Thence I could go by train into Spain, or else get
to Algiers. It would not be difficult. There a man might always be
invisible--and yet live. And do things. I was using that tramp as a
money box and luggage carrier, until I decided how to get my books
and things sent over to meet me."
"That's clear."
"And then the filthy brute must needs try and rob me! He has
hidden my books, Kemp. Hidden my books! If I can lay my hands on
him!"
"Best plan to get the books out of him first."
"But where is he? Do you know?"
"He's in the town police station, locked up, by his own
request, in the strongest cell in the place."
"Cur!" said the Invisible Man.
"But that hangs up your plans a little."
"We must get those books; those books are vital."
"Certainly," said Kemp, a little nervously, wondering
if he heard footsteps outside. "Certainly we must get those
books. But that won't be difficult, if he doesn't know they're for
you."
"No," said the Invisible Man, and thought.
Kemp tried to think of something to keep the talk going, but the
Invisible Man resumed of his own accord.
"Blundering into your house, Kemp," he said,
"changes all my plans. For you are a man that can understand.
In spite of all that has happened, in spite of this publicity, of
the loss of my books, of what I have suffered, there still remain
great possibilities, huge possibilities--
"You have told no one I am here?" he asked abruptly.
Kemp hesitated. "That was implied," he said.
"No one?" insisted Griffin.
"Not a soul."
"Ah! Now--" The Invisible Man stood up, and sticking
his arms akimbo began to pace the study.
"I made a mistake, Kemp, a huge mistake, in carrying this
thing through alone. I have wasted strength, time, opportunities.
Alone--it is wonderful how little a man can do alone! To rob a
little, to hurt a little, and there is the end.
"What I want, Kemp, is a goal-keeper, a helper, and a
hiding- place, an arrangement whereby I can sleep and eat and rest
in peace, and unsuspected. I must have a confederate. With a
confederate, with food and rest--a thousand things are possible.
"Hitherto I have gone on vague lines. We have to consider
all that invisibility means, all that it does not mean. It means
little advantage for eavesdropping and so forth--one makes sounds.
It's of little help, a little help perhaps--in housebreaking and so
forth. Once you've caught me you could easily imprison me. But on
the other hand I am hard to catch. This invisibility, in fact, is
only good in two cases: It's useful in getting away, it's useful in
approaching. It's particularly useful, therefore, in killing. I can
walk round a man, whatever weapon he has, choose my point, strike as
I like. Dodge as I like. Escape as I like."
Kemp's hand went to his moustache. Was that a movement
downstairs?
"And it is killing we must do, Kemp."
"It is killing we must do," repeated Kemp. "I'm
listening to your plan, Griffin, but I'm not agreeing, mind. Why
killing?"
"Not wanton killing but a judicious slaying. The point is
they know there is an Invisible Man--as well as we know there is an
Invisible Man. And that Invisible Man, Kemp, must now establish a
Reign of Terror. Yes--no doubt it's startling. But I mean it. A
Reign of Terror. He must take some town like your Burdock and
terrify and dominate it. He must issue his orders. He can do that in
a thousand ways--scraps of paper thrust under doors would suffice.
And all who disobey his orders he must kill, and kill all who would
defend the disobedient."
"Humph!" said Kemp, no longer listening to Griffin but
to the sound of his front door opening and closing.
"It seems to me, Griffin," he said, to cover his
wandering attention, "that your confederate would be in a
difficult position."
"No one would know he was a confederate," said the
Invisible Man, eagerly. And then suddenly, "Hush! What's that
downstairs?"
"Nothing," said Kemp, and suddenly began to speak loud
and fast. "I don't agree to this, Griffin," he said.
"Understand me, I don't agree to this. Why dream of playing a
game against the race? How can you hope to gain happiness? Don't be
a lone wolf. Publish your results; take the world--take the nation
at least--into your confidence. Think what you might do with a
million helpers--"
The Invisible Man interrupted Kemp. "There are footsteps
coming upstairs," he said in a low voice.
"Nonsense," said Kemp.
"Let me see," said the Invisible Man, and advanced, arm
extended, to the door.
Kemp hesitated for a second and then moved to intercept him. The
Invisible Man started and stood still. "Traitor!" cried
the Voice, and suddenly the dressing-gown opened, and sitting down
the Unseen began to disrobe. Kemp made three swift steps to the
door, and forthwith the Invisible Man--his legs had vanished--sprang
to his feet with a shout. Kemp flung the door open.
As it opened, there came a sound of hurrying feet downstairs and
voices.
With a quick movement Kemp thrust the Invisible Man back, sprang
aside, and slammed the door. The key was outside and ready. In
another moment Griffin would have been alone in the belvedere study,
a prisoner. Save for one little thing. The key had been slipped in
hastily that morning. As Kemp slammed the door it fell noisily upon
the carpet.
Kemp's face became white. He tried to grip the door handle with
both hands. For a moment he stood lugging. Then the door gave six
inches. But he got it closed again. The second time it was jerked a
foot wide, and the dressing-gown came wedging itself into the
opening. His throat was gripped by invisible fingers, and he left
his hold on the handle to defend himself. He was forced back,
tripped and pitched heavily into the corner of the landing. The
empty dressing- gown was flung on the top of him.
Halfway up the staircase was Colonel Adye, the recipient of
Kemp's letter, the chief of the Burdock police. He was staring
aghast at the sudden appearance of Kemp, followed by the
extraordinary sight of clothing tossing empty in the air. He saw
Kemp felled, and struggling to his feet. He saw him rush forward,
and go down again, felled like an ox.
Then suddenly he was struck violently. By nothing! A vast weight,
it seemed, leapt upon him, and he was hurled headlong down the
staircase, with a grip at his throat and a knee in his groin. An
invisible foot trod on his back, a ghostly patter passed downstairs,
he heard the two police officers in the hall shout and run, and the
front door of the house slammed violently.
He rolled over and sat up staring. He saw, staggering down the
staircase, Kemp, dusty and dishevelled, one side of his face white
from a blow, his lip bleeding, holding a pink dressing-gown and some
underclothing in his arms.
"My God!" cried Kemp, "the game's up! He's
gone!"
