The Invisible Man
Page 14
"My plans were now perfectly definite. I proposed to make my way into the house, secrete myself upstairs, watch my opportunity, and, when everything was quiet, rummage out a wig, mask, spectacles, and costume, and go into the world, perhaps a grotesque but still a creditable figure. And, incidentally, of course, I could rob the house of any available money.
"The man who had entered the shop was a short, slightly hunched, beetle-browed man with long arms and very short bandy legs. Apparently I had interrupted a meal. He stared about the shop with an expression of expectation. This gave way to surprise, and then anger, as he saw the shop empty. 'Damn the boys!' he said. He went to stare up and down the street. He came in again in a minute, kicked the door to[3] with his foot spitefully, and went muttering back to the house door.[4]
"I came forward to follow him, and at the noise of my movement he stopped dead. I did so too, startled by his quickness of ear. He slammed the house door in my face.
"I stood hesitating. Suddenly I heard his quick footsteps returning, and the door re-opened. He stood looking about the shop like one who was still not satisfied. Then, murmuring to himself, he examined the back of the counter and peered behind some fixtures. Then he stood doubtful. He had left the house door open, and I slipped into the inner room.
"It was a queer little room, poorly furnished, and with a number of big masks in the corner. On the table was his belated breakfast, and it was a confoundedly exasperating thing for me, Kemp, to have to sniff his coffee and stand watching while he came in and resumed his meal. And his table manners were irritating. Three doors opened into the little room, one going upstairs and one down, but they were all shut. I could not get out of the room while he was there; I could scarcely move because of his alertness, and there was a draught down my back. Twice I strangled a sneeze just in time.
"The spectacular quality of my sensations was curious and novel, but for all that I was heartily tired and angry long before he had done his eating. But at last he made an end, and putting his beggarly crockery on the black tin tray upon which he had had his teapot, and gathering all the crumbs up on the mustard-stained cloth, he took the whole lot of things after him. His burden prevented his shutting the door behind him—as he would have done. I never saw such a man for shutting doors—[5] and I followed him into a very dirty underground kitchen and scullery. I had the pleasure of seeing him begin to wash up, and then, finding no good in keeping down there, and the brick floor being cold to my feet, I returned upstairs and sat in his chair by the fire. It was burning low, and scarcely thinking, I put on a little coal. The noise of this brought him up at once, and he stood aglare. He peered about the room and was within an ace of touching me. Even after that examination he scarcely seemed satisfied. He stopped in the doorway and took a final inspection before he went down.
"I waited in the little parlour for an age, and at last he came up and opened the upstairs door. I crept close after him.
"On the staircase he stopped suddenly, so that I very nearly blundered into him. He stood looking back right into my face, and listening. 'I could have sworn,' he said. His long, hairy hand pulled at his lower lip; his eye went up and down the staircase. Then he grunted, and went on up again.
"His hand was on the handle of a door, and there he stopped again, with the same puzzled anger on his face. He was becoming aware of the faint sound of my movements about him. The man must have had diabolically acute hearing. He suddenly flashed into rage: 'If there's any one in this house—' he cried, with an oath, and left the threat unfinished. He put his hand in his pocket, failed to find what he wanted, and, rushing past me, went blundering noisily and pugnaciously downstairs. But I did not follow him; I sat on the head of the staircase until his return.
"Presently he came up again, still muttering. He opened the door of the room, and, before I could enter, slammed it in my face.
"I resolved to explore the house, and spent some time in doing so as noiselessly as possible. The house was very old and tumbledown, damp, so that the paper in the attics was peeling from the walls, and rat-infested. Most of the door handles were stiff, and I was afraid to turn them. Several rooms I did inspect were unfurnished, and others were littered with theatrical lumber, bought second-hand, I judged from its appearance. In one room next to his I found a lot of old clothes. I began routing among these, and in my eagerness forgot again the evident sharpness of his ears. I heard a stealthy footstep, and, looking up just in time, saw him peeping in at the tumbled heap and holding an old-fashioned revolver in his hand. I stood perfectly still while he stared about open-mouthed and suspicious. 'It must have been her,' he said slowly. 'Damn her!'
"He shut the door quietly, and immediately I heard the key turn in the lock. Then his footsteps retreated. I realised abruptly that I was locked in. For a minute I did not know what to do. I walked from door to window and back, and stood perplexed. A gust of anger came upon me. But I decided to inspect the clothes before I did anything further, and my first attempt brought down a pile from an upper shelf. This brought him back, more sinister than ever. This time he actually touched me, jumped back with amazement, and stood astonished in the middle of the room.
"Presently he calmed a little. 'Rats,' he said in an undertone, fingers on lip. He was evidently a little scared. I edged quietly out of the room, but a plank creaked. Then the infernal little brute started going all over the house, revolver in hand, and locking door after door and pocketing the keys. When I realised what he was up to I had a fit of rage—I could hardly control myself sufficiently to watch my opportunity. By this time I knew he was alone in the house, and so I made no more ado,[6] but knocked him on the head."
"Knocked him on the head?" exclaimed Kemp.
"Yes—stunned him—as he was going downstairs. Hit him from behind with a stool that stood on the landing. He went downstairs like a bag of old boots."
"But—I say! The common conventions of humanity—"
"Are all very well for common people. But the point was, Kemp, that I had to get out of that house in a disguise, without his seeing me. I couldn't think of any other way of doing it. And then I gagged him with a Louis Quatorze vest,[7] and tied him up in a sheet!"
"Tied him up in a sheet!"
"Made a sort of bag of it. It was rather a good idea to keep the idiot scared and quiet, and a devilish hard thing to get out of—head away from the string. My dear Kemp, it's no good your sitting and glaring as though I had done a murder. He had his revolver. If once he had seen me he would have been able to describe me—"
"But still," said Kemp, "in England—to-day! And the man was in his own house, and you were—well, robbing."
"Robbing! Confound it! You'll call me a thief next. Surely, Kemp, you're not fool enough to dance on the old strings.[8] Can't you see my position?"
"And his too!" said Kemp.
The Invisible Man stood up sharply. "What do you mean to say?"
Kemp's face grew a trifle hard. He was about to speak, and checked himself. "I suppose, after all," he said, with a sudden change of manner, "the thing had to be done. You were in a fix. But still—"
"Of course I was in a fix—an infernal fix! And he made me wild too—hunting me about the house, fooling about with his revolver, locking and unlocking doors. He was simply exasperating. You don't blame me, do you? You don't blame me?"
"I never blame any one," said Kemp. "It's quite out of fashion. What did you do next?"
"I was hungry. Downstairs I found a loaf and some rank cheese—more than sufficient to satisfy my hunger. I took some brandy and water, and then went up past my impromptu bag—he was lying quite still—to the room containing the old clothes. This looked out upon the street, two lace curtains, brown with dirt, guarding the window. I went and peered out through their interstices. Outside the day was bright—by contrast with the brown shadows of the dismal house in which I found myself, dazzlingly bright. A brisk traffic was going by—fruit carts, a hansom, a four-wheeler with a pile of boxes, a fishmonger's cart.
I turned with spots of colour swimming before my eyes to the shadowy fixtures behind me. My excitement was giving place to a clear apprehension of my position again. The room was full of a faint scent of benzoline, used, I suppose, in cleaning the garments.
"I began a systematic search of the place. I should judge the hunchback had been alone in the house for some time. He was a curious person… Everything that could possibly be of service to me I collected in the clothes storeroom, and then I made a deliberate selection. I found a handbag I thought a suitable possession, and some powder, rouge, and sticking-plaster.
"I had thought of painting and powdering my face and all that there was to show of me, in order to render myself visible, but the disadvantage of this lay in the fact that I should require turpentine and other appliances and a considerable amount of time before I could vanish again. Finally I chose a nose of the better type, slightly grotesque, but not more so than that of many human beings, dark glasses, grayish whiskers, and a wig. I could find no underclothing, but that I could buy subsequently, and for the time I swathed myself in calico dominoes and some white cashmere scarves. I could find no socks, but the hunchback's boots were rather a loose fit,[9] and sufficed. In a desk in the shop were three sovereigns and about thirty shillings-worth of silver, and in a locked cupboard I burst in the inner room were eight pounds in gold, I could go forth into the world again, equipped.
"Then came a curious hesitation. Was my appearance really creditable? I tried myself with a little bedroom looking-glass, inspecting myself from every point of view to discover any forgotten chink, but it all seemed sound. I was grotesque to the theatrical pitch—a stage miser—but I was certainly not a physical impossibility. Gathering confidence, I took my looking-glass down into the shop, pulled down the shop blinds, and surveyed myself from every point of view with the help of the cheval-glass in the corner.
"I spent some minutes screwing up my courage, and then unlocked the shop door, and marched out into the street, leaving the little man to get out of his sheet again when he liked. In five minutes a dozen turnings intervened between me and the costumier's shop. No one appeared to notice me very pointedly. My last difficulty seemed overcome."
He stopped again.
"And you troubled no more about the hunchback?" said Kemp.
"No," said the Invisible Man. "Nor have I heard what became of him. I suppose he untied himself or kicked himself out. The knots were pretty tight."
He became silent, and went to the window and stared out.
"What happened when you went out into the Strand?"
"Oh! Disillusionment again. I thought my troubles were over. Practically, I thought I had impunity to do whatever I chose, everything—save to give away my secret. So I thought. Whatever I did, whatever the consequences might be, was nothing to me. I had merely to fling aside my garments and vanish. No person could hold me. I could take my money where I found it. i decided to treat myself to a sumptuous feast, and then put up at a good hotel, and accumulate a new outfit of property. I felt amazingly confident; it's not particularly pleasant to recall that I was an ass. I went into a place and was already ordering a lunch, when it occurred to me that I could not eat unless I exposed my invisible face. I finished ordering the lunch, told the man I should be back in ten minutes, and went out exasperated. I don't know if you have ever been disappointed in your appetite."
"Not quite so badly," said Kemp, "but I can imagine it."
"I could have smashed the silly devils. At last, faint with the desire for tasteful food, I went into another place and demanded a private room. 'I am disfigured,' I said, 'badly.' They looked at me curiously, but of course it was not their affair—and so at last I got my lunch. It was not particularly well served, but it sufficed, and when I had had it, I sat over a cigar, trying to plan my line of action. And outside a snowstorm was beginning.
"The more I thought it over, Kemp, the more I realised what a helpless absurdity an Invisible Man was—in a cold and dirty climate and a crowded, civilised city. Before I made this mad experiment I had dreamt of a thousand advantages. That afternoon it seemed all disappointment. I went over the heads of the things a man reckons desirable.[10] No doubt invisibility made it possible to get them, but it made it impossible to enjoy them when they are got. Ambition—what is the good of pride of place[11] when you cannot appear there? What is the good of the love of woman when her name must needs be Delilah?[12] I have no taste for politics, for the blackguardisms of fame, for philanthropy, for sport. What was I to do? And for this I had become a wrapped-up mystery, a swathed and bandaged caricature of a man."
He paused, and his attitude suggested a roving glance at the window.
"But how did you get to Iping?" said Kemp, anxious to keep his guest busy talking.
"I went there to work. I had one hope, It was a half idea! I have it still. It is a fullblown idea now. A way of getting back! Of restoring what I have done. When I choose. When I have done all I mean to do invisibly. And that is what I chiefly want to talk to you about now—"
"You went straight to Iping?"
"Yes, I had simply to get my three volumes of memoranda and my cheque-book, my luggage and underclothing, order a quantity of chemicals to work out this idea of mine—I will show you the calculations as soon as I get my books—and then I started. Jove! I remember the snowstorm now, and the accursed bother it was to keep the snow from damping my pasteboard nose—"
"At the end," said Kemp, "the day before yesterday, when they found you out, you rather—to judge by the papers—"
"I did. Rather. Did I kill that fool of a constable?"
"No," said Kemp. "He's expected to recover."
"That's his luck, then. I clean lost my temper, the fools! Why couldn't they leave me alone? And that grocer lout?"
"There's no death expected," said Kemp.
"I don't know about that tramp of mine," said the Invisible Man, with an unpleasant laugh.
"By heaven, Kemp, men of your stamp don't know what rage is!… To have worked for years, to have planned and plotted, and then to get some fumbling, purblind idiot messing across your course!… Every conceivable sort of silly creature that has ever been created has been sent to cross me… If I have much more of it, I shall go wild—I shall start mowing 'em.
"As it is, they've made things a thousand times more difficult."
Chapter XXIV
The Plan That Failed
"But now," said Kemp, with a side-glance out of the window, "what are we to do?"
He moved nearer his guest to prevent the possibility of a sudden 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 look-out 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 to Algiers. It would not be difficult. There a man might be invisible always, 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 to 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[1] your plans a little."
"We must get those books; those books are vital."
"Certainly," sa
id 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.[2] 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."