Kemp read a strange missive, written in pencil on a greasy sheet
of paper.
"You have been amazingly energetic and clever," this
letter ran, "though what you stand to gain by it I cannot
imagine. You are against me. For a whole day you have chased me; you
have tried to rob me of a night's rest. But I have had food in spite
of you, I have slept in spite of you, and the game is only
beginning. The game is only beginning. There is nothing for it, but
to start the Terror. This announces the first day of the Terror.
Port Burdock is no longer under the Queen tell your Colonel of
Police, and the rest of them; it is under me--the Terror! This is
day one of year one of the new epoch --the Epoch of the Invisible
Man. I am Invisible Man the First. To begin with the rule will be
easy. The first day there will be one execution for the sake of
example--a man named Kemp. Death starts for him to-day. He may lock
himself away, hide himself away, get guards about him, put on armour
if he likes; Death, the unseen Death, is coming. Let him take
precautions; it will impress my people. Death starts from the
pillar-box by midday. The letter will fall in as the postman comes
along, then off! The game begins. Death starts. Help him not, my
people, lest Death fall upon you also. To-day Kemp is to die."
Kemp read this letter twice. "It's no hoax," he said.
"That's his voice! And he means it."
He turned the folded sheet over and saw on the addressed side of
it the postmark Hintondean, and the prosaic detail, "2d. to
pay."
He got up, leaving his lunch unfinished--the letter had come by
the one o'clock post--and went into his study. He rang for his
housekeeper, and told her to go round the house at once, examine all
the fastenings of the windows, and close all the shutters. He closed
the shutters of his study himself. From a locked drawer in his
bedroom he took a little revolver, examined it carefully, and put it
into the pocket of his lounge jacket. He wrote a number of brief
notes, one to Colonel Adye, gave them to his servant to take, with
explicit instructions as to her way of leaving the house.
"There is no danger," he said, and added a mental
reservation, "to you." He remained meditative for a space
after doing this, and then returned to his cooling lunch.
He ate with gaps of thought. Finally he struck the table sharply.
"We will have him!" he said; "and I am the bait. He
will come too far."
He went up to the belvedere, carefully shutting every door after
him. "It's a game," he said, "an odd game--but the
chances are all for me, Mr. Griffin, in spite of your invisibility.
Griffin contra mundum--with a vengeance!"
He stood at the window staring at the hot hillside. "He must
get food every day--and I don't envy him. Did he really sleep last
night? Out in the open somewhere--secure from collisions. I wish we
could get some good cold wet weather instead of the heat.
"He may be watching me now."
He went close to the window. Something rapped smartly against the
brickwork over the frame, and made him start violently.
"I'm getting nervous," said Kemp. But it was five
minutes before he went to the window again. "It must have been
a sparrow," he said.
Presently he heard the front-door bell ringing, and hurried
downstairs. He unbolted and unlocked the door, examined the chain,
put it up, and opened cautiously without showing himself. A familiar
voice hailed him. It was Adye.
"Your servant's been assaulted, Kemp," he said round
the door.
"What!" exclaimed Kemp.
"Had that note of yours taken away from her. He's close
about here. Let me in."
Kemp released the chain, and Adye entered through as narrow an
opening as possible. He stood in the hall, looking with infinite
relief at Kemp refastening the door. "Note was snatched out of
her hand. Scared her horribly. She's down at the station. Hysterics.
He's close here. What was it about?"
Kemp swore.
"What a fool I was," said Kemp. "I might have
known. It's not an hour's walk from Hintondean. Already!"
"What's up?" said Adye.
"Look here!" said Kemp, and led the way into his study.
He handed Adye the Invisible Man's letter. Adye read it and whistled
softly. "And you--?" said Adye.
"Proposed a trap--like a fool," said Kemp, "and
sent my proposal out by a maid servant. To him."
Adye followed Kemp's profanity.
"He'll clear out," said Adye.
"Not he," said Kemp.
A resounding smash of glass came from upstairs. Adye had a
silvery glimpse of a little revolver half out of Kemp's pocket.
"It's a window, upstairs!" said Kemp, and led the way up.
There came a second smash while they were still on the staircase.
When they reached the study they found two of the three windows
smashed, half the room littered with splintered glass, and one big
flint lying on the writing table. The two men stopped in the
doorway, contemplating the wreckage. Kemp swore again, and as he did
so the third window went with a snap like a pistol, hung starred for
a moment, and collapsed in jagged, shivering triangles into the
room.
"What's this for?" said Adye.
"It's a beginning," said Kemp.
"There's no way of climbing up here?"
"Not for a cat," said Kemp.
"No shutters?"
"Not here. All the downstairs rooms--Hullo!"
Smash, and then whack of boards hit hard came from downstairs.
"Confound him! said Kemp. "That must be--yes--it's one of
the bedrooms. He's going to do all the house. But he's a fool. The
shutters are up, and the glass will fall outside. He'll cut his
feet."
Another window proclaimed its destruction. The two men stood on
the landing perplexed. "I have it! said Adye. "Let me have
a stick or something, and I'll go down to the station and get the
bloodhounds put on. That ought to settle him! They're hard by--not
ten minutes--"
Another window went the way of its fellows.
"You haven't a revolver?" asked Adye.
Kemp's hand went to his pocket. Then he hesitated. "I
haven't one--at least to spare."
"I'll bring it back," said Adye, "you'll be safe
here."
Kemp handed him the weapon.
"Now for the door," said Adye.
As they stood hesitating in the hall, they heard one of the
first-floor bedroom windows crack and clash. Kemp went to the door
and began to slip the bolts as silently as possible. His face was a
little paler than usual. "You must step straight out,"
said Kemp. In another moment Adye was on the doorstep and the bolts
were dropping back into the staples. He hesitated for a moment,
feeling more comfortable with his back against the door. Then he
marched, upright and square, down the steps. He crossed the lawn and
approached the gate. A little breeze seemed to ripple over the
grass. Something moved near him. "Stop a bit," said a
Voice, and Adye stopped dead and his hand tightened on the revolver.
"Well?" said Adye, white and grim, and every nerve
tense.
"Oblige me by going back to the house," said the Voice,
as tense and grim as Adye's.
"Sorry," said Adye a little hoarsely, and moistened his
lips with his tongue. The Voice was on his left front, he thought.
Suppose he were to take his luck with a shot?
"What are you going for?" said the Voice, and there was
a quick movement of the two, and a flash of sunlight from the open
lip of Adye's pocket.
Adye desisted and thought. "Where I go," he said
slowly, "is my own business." The words were still on his
lips, when an arm came round his neck, his back felt a knee, and he
was sprawling backward. He drew clumsily and fired absurdly, and in
another moment he was struck in the mouth and the revolver wrested
from his grip. He made a vain clutch at a slippery limb, tried to
struggle up and fell back. "Damn!" said Adye. The Voice
laughed. "I'd kill you now if it wasn't the waste of a
bullet," it said. He saw the revolver in mid-air, six feet off,
covering him.
"Well?" said Adye, sitting up.
"Get up," said the Voice.
Adye stood up.
"Attention" said the Voice, and then fiercely,
"Don't try any games. Remember I can see your face if you can't
see mine. You've got to go back to the house."
"He won't let me in," said Adye.
"That's a pity," said the Invisible Man. "I've got
no quarrel with you."
Adye moistened his lips again. He glanced away from the barrel of
the revolver and saw the sea far off very blue and dark under the
midday sun, the smooth green down, the white cliff of the Head, and
the multitudinous town, and suddenly he knew that life was very
sweet. His eyes came back to this little metal thing hanging between
heaven and earth, six yards away. "What am I to do?" he
said sullenly.
"What am I to do?" asked the Invisible Man. "You
will get help. The only thing is for you to go back."
"I will try. If he lets me in will you promise not to rush
the door?"
"I've got no quarrel with you," said the Voice.
Kemp had hurried upstairs after letting Adye out, and now
crouching among the broken glass and peering cautiously over the
edge of the study window-sill, he saw Adye stand parleying with the
Unseen. "Why doesn't he fire?" whispered Kemp to himself.
Then the revolver moved a little and the glint of the sunlight
flashed in Kemp's eyes. He shaded his eyes and tried to see the
source of the blinding beam.
"Surely!" he said. "Adye has given up the
revolver."
"Promise not to rush the door," Adye was saying.
"Don't push a winning game too far. Give a man a chance."
"You go back to the house. I tell you flatly I will not
promise anything."
Adye's decision seemed suddenly made. He turned towards the
house, walking slowly with his hands behind him. Kemp watched him--
puzzled. The revolver vanished, flashed again into sight, vanished
again, and became evident on a closer scrutiny as a little dark
object following Adye. Then things happened very quickly. Adye leapt
backwards, swung round, clutched at this little object, missed it,
threw up his hands and fell forward on his face, leaving a little
puff of blue in the air. Kemp did not hear the sound of the shot.
Adye writhed, raised himself on one arm, fell forward, and lay
still.
For a space Kemp remained staring at the quiet carelessness of
Adye's attitude. The afternoon was very hot and still, nothing
seemed stirring in all the world save a couple of yellow butterflies
chasing each other through the shrubbery between the house and the
road gate. Adye lay on the lawn near the gate. The blinds of all the
villas down the hill-road were drawn, but in one little green
summer-house was a white figure, apparently an old man asleep. Kemp
scrutinised the surroundings of the house for a glimpse of the
revolver, but it had vanished. His eyes came back to Adye. The game
was opening well.
Then came a ringing and knocking at the front door, that grew at
last tumultuous, but pursuant to Kemp's instructions the servants
had locked themselves into their rooms. This was followed by a
silence. Kemp sat listening and then began peering cautiously out of
the three windows, one after another. He went to the staircase head
and stood listening uneasily. He armed himself with his bedroom
poker, and went to examine the interior fastenings of the
ground-floor windows again. Everything was safe and quiet. He
returned to the belvedere. Adye lay motionless over the edge of the
gravel just as he had fallen. Coming along the road by the villas
were the housemaid and two policemen.
Everything was deadly still. The three people seemed very slow in
approaching. He wondered what his antagonist was doing.
He started. There was a smash from below. He hesitated and went
downstairs again. Suddenly the house resounded with heavy blows and
the splintering of wood. He heard a smash and the destructive clang
of the iron fastenings of the shutters. He turned the key and opened
the kitchen door. As he did so, the shutters, split and splintering,
came flying inward. He stood aghast. The window frame, save for one
cross bar, was still intact, but only little teeth of glass remained
in the frame. The shutters had been driven in with an axe, and now
the axe was descending in sweeping blows upon the window frame and
the iron bars defending it. Then suddenly it leapt aside and
vanished. He saw the revolver lying on the path outside, and then
the little weapon sprang into the air. He dodged back. The revolver
cracked just too late, and a splinter from the edge of the closing
door flashed over his head. He slammed and locked the door, and as
he stood outside he heard Griffin shouting and laughing. Then the
blows of the axe, with their splitting and smashing accompaniments,
were resumed.
Kemp stood in the passage trying to think. In a moment the
Invisible Man would be in the kitchen. This door would not keep him
a moment, and then--
A ringing came at the front door again. It would be the
policemen. He ran into the hall, put up the chain, and drew the
bolts. He made the girl speak before he dropped the chain, and the
three people blundered into the house in a heap, and Kemp slammed
the door again.
"The Invisible Man!" said Kemp. "He has a
revolver, with two shots--left. He's killed Adye. Shot him anyhow.
Didn't you see him on the lawn? He's lying there."
"Who?" said one of the policemen.
"Adye," said Kemp.
"We came round the back way," said the girl.
"What's that smashing?" asked one of the policemen.
"He's in the kitchen--or will be. He has found an
axe--"
Suddenly the house was full of the Invisible Man's resounding
blows on the kitchen door. The girl stared towards the kitchen,
shuddered, and retreated into the dining-room. Kemp tried to explain
in broken sentences. They heard the kitchen door give.
"This way," cried Kemp, starting into activity, and
bundled the policemen into the dining-room doorway.
"Poker," said Kemp, and rushed to the fender. He handed
a poker to each policeman. He suddenly flung himself backward.
"Whup!" said one policeman, ducked, and caught the axe
on his poker. The pistol snapped its penultimate shot and ripped a
valuable Sidney Cooper. The second policeman brought his poker down
on the little weapon, as one might knock down a wasp, and sent it
rattling to the floor.
At the first clash the girl screamed, stood screaming for a
moment by the fireplace, and then ran to open the shutters--possibly
with an idea of escaping by the shattered window.
The axe receded into the passage, and fell to a position about
two feet from the ground. They could hear the Invisible Man
breathing. "Stand away, you two," he said. "I want
that man Kemp."
"We want you," said the first policeman, making a quick
step forward and wiping with his poker at the Voice. The Invisible
Man must have started back. He blundered into the umbrella stand.
Then, as the policeman staggered with the swing of the blow he had
aimed, the Invisible Man countered with the axe, the helmet crumpled
like paper, and the blow sent the man spinning to the floor at the
head of the kitchen stairs. But the second policeman, aiming behind
the axe with his poker, hit something soft that snapped. There was a
sharp exclamation of pain and the axe fell to the ground. The
policeman wiped again at vacancy and hit nothing; he put his foot on
the axe, and struck again. Then he stood, poker clubbed, listening
intent for the slightest movement.
He heard the dining-room window open, and a quick rush of feet
within. His companion rolled over and sat up with the blood running
down between his eye and ear. "Where is he?" asked the man
on the floor.
"Don't know. I've hit him. He's standing somewhere in the
hall. Unless he's slipped past you. Doctor Kemp--sir."
Pause.
"Doctor Kemp," cried the policeman again.
The second policeman struggled to his feet. He stood up. Suddenly
the faint pad of bare feet on the kitchen stairs could be heard.
"Yap!" cried the first policeman and incontinently flung
his poker. It smashed a little gas bracket.
He made as if he would pursue the Invisible Man downstairs. Then
he thought better of it and stepped into the dining-room.
"Doctor Kemp," he began, and stopped short--
"Doctor Kemp's in here," he said, as his companion
looked over his shoulder.
The dining-room window was wide open, and neither housemaid nor
Kemp was to be seen.
The second policeman's opinion of Kemp was terse and vivid.
