by H. G. Wells
CHAPTER IX
MR. THOMAS MARVEL
You must picture Mr. Thomas Marvel as a person of copious, flexiblevisage, a nose of cylindrical protrusion, a liquorish, ample,fluctuating mouth, and a beard of bristling eccentricity. His figureinclined to embonpoint; his short limbs accentuated this inclination.He wore a furry silk hat, and the frequent substitution of twine andshoe-laces for buttons, apparent at critical points of his costume,marked a man essentially bachelor.
Mr. Thomas Marvel was sitting with his feet in a ditch by theroadside over the down towards Adderdean, about a mile and a halfout of Iping. His feet, save for socks of irregular open-work, werebare, his big toes were broad, and pricked like the ears of awatchful dog. In a leisurely manner--he did everything in aleisurely manner--he was contemplating trying on a pair of boots.They were the soundest boots he had come across for a long time, buttoo large for him; whereas the ones he had were, in dry weather, avery comfortable fit, but too thin-soled for damp. Mr. Thomas Marvelhated roomy shoes, but then he hated damp. He had never properlythought out which he hated most, and it was a pleasant day, andthere was nothing better to do. So he put the four shoes in agraceful group on the turf and looked at them. And seeing them thereamong the grass and springing agrimony, it suddenly occurred to himthat both pairs were exceedingly ugly to see. He was not at allstartled by a voice behind him.
"They're boots, anyhow," said the Voice.
"They are--charity boots," said Mr. Thomas Marvel, with his headon one side regarding them distastefully; "and which is the ugliestpair in the whole blessed universe, I'm darned if I know!"
"H'm," said the Voice.
"I've worn worse--in fact, I've worn none. But none so owdaciousugly--if you'll allow the expression. I've been cadging boots--inparticular--for days. Because I was sick of _them_. They're soundenough, of course. But a gentleman on tramp sees such a thunderinglot of his boots. And if you'll believe me, I've raised nothing inthe whole blessed country, try as I would, but _them_. Look at 'em!And a good country for boots, too, in a general way. But it's justmy promiscuous luck. I've got my boots in this country ten years ormore. And then they treat you like this."
"It's a beast of a country," said the Voice. "And pigs for people."
"Ain't it?" said Mr. Thomas Marvel. "Lord! But them boots! It beatsit."
He turned his head over his shoulder to the right, to look at theboots of his interlocutor with a view to comparisons, and lo! wherethe boots of his interlocutor should have been were neither legsnor boots. He was irradiated by the dawn of a great amazement."Where _are_ yer?" said Mr. Thomas Marvel over his shoulder andcoming on all fours. He saw a stretch of empty downs with the windswaying the remote green-pointed furze bushes.
"Am I drunk?" said Mr. Marvel. "Have I had visions? Was I talkingto myself? What the--"
"Don't be alarmed," said a Voice.
"None of your ventriloquising _me_," said Mr. Thomas Marvel, risingsharply to his feet. "Where _are_ yer? Alarmed, indeed!"
"Don't be alarmed," repeated the Voice.
"_You'll_ be alarmed in a minute, you silly fool," said Mr. ThomasMarvel. "Where _are_ yer? Lemme get my mark on yer...
"Are yer _buried_?" said Mr. Thomas Marvel, after an interval.
There was no answer. Mr. Thomas Marvel stood bootless and amazed,his jacket nearly thrown off.
"Peewit," said a peewit, very remote.
"Peewit, indeed!" said Mr. Thomas Marvel. "This ain't no time forfoolery." The down was desolate, east and west, north and south;the road with its shallow ditches and white bordering stakes, ransmooth and empty north and south, and, save for that peewit, theblue sky was empty too. "So help me," said Mr. Thomas Marvel,shuffling his coat on to his shoulders again. "It's the drink!I might ha' known."
"It's not the drink," said the Voice. "You keep your nervessteady."
"Ow!" said Mr. Marvel, and his face grew white amidst its patches."It's the drink!" his lips repeated noiselessly. He remained staringabout him, rotating slowly backwards. "I could have _swore_ I hearda voice," he whispered.
"Of course you did."
"It's there again," said Mr. Marvel, closing his eyes and claspinghis hand on his brow with a tragic gesture. He was suddenly takenby the collar and shaken violently, and left more dazed than ever."Don't be a fool," said the Voice.
"I'm--off--my--blooming--chump," said Mr. Marvel. "It's no good.It's fretting about them blarsted boots. I'm off my blessed bloomingchump. Or it's spirits."
"Neither one thing nor the other," said the Voice. "Listen!"
"Chump," said Mr. Marvel.
"One minute," said the Voice, penetratingly, tremulous withself-control.
"Well?" said Mr. Thomas Marvel, with a strange feeling of havingbeen dug in the chest by a finger.
"You think I'm just imagination? Just imagination?"
"What else _can_ you be?" said Mr. Thomas Marvel, rubbing the back ofhis neck.
"Very well," said the Voice, in a tone of relief. "Then I'm goingto throw flints at you till you think differently."
"But where _are_ yer?"
The Voice made no answer. Whizz came a flint, apparently out ofthe air, and missed Mr. Marvel's shoulder by a hair's-breadth.Mr. Marvel, turning, saw a flint jerk up into the air, trace acomplicated path, hang for a moment, and then fling at his feetwith almost invisible rapidity. He was too amazed to dodge. Whizzit came, and ricochetted from a bare toe into the ditch. Mr. ThomasMarvel jumped a foot and howled aloud. Then he started to run,tripped over an unseen obstacle, and came head over heels into asitting position.
"_Now_," said the Voice, as a third stone curved upward and hung inthe air above the tramp. "Am I imagination?"
Mr. Marvel by way of reply struggled to his feet, and wasimmediately rolled over again. He lay quiet for a moment. "If youstruggle any more," said the Voice, "I shall throw the flint atyour head."
"It's a fair do," said Mr. Thomas Marvel, sitting up, taking hiswounded toe in hand and fixing his eye on the third missile. "Idon't understand it. Stones flinging themselves. Stones talking.Put yourself down. Rot away. 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 withpain. "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 wantyou to understand."
"Anyone could see that. There is no need for you to be so confoundedimpatient, mister. _Now_ then. Give us a notion. How are you hid?"
"I'm invisible. That's the great point. And what I want you tounderstand 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 justthin 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_--what is it?--jabber.Is it that?"
"I am just a human being--solid, needing food and drink, needingcovering 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'tbe so darn out-of-the-way like, then--_Lord_!" he said, "how you mademe jump!--gripping me like that!"
He felt the hand that had closed round his wrist with his disengagedfingers, and his fingers went timorously up the arm, patted amuscular chest, and explored a bearded face. Marvel's face wasastonishment.
"I'm dashed!" he said. "If this don't beat cock-fighting! Mostremarkable!--And there I can see a rabbit clean through you, 'arfa mile away! Not a bit of you visible--except--"
He scrutinised the apparently empty space keenly. "You 'aven't beeneatin' bread and cheese?" 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. ThomasMarvel. "Howjer manage it! How the dooce is it done?"
"It's too long a story. And besides--"
"I tell you, the whole business fairly beats me," said Mr. Marvel.
"What I want to say at present is this: I need help. I have come tothat--I came upon you suddenly. I was wandering, mad with rage,naked, impotent. 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 outcast like myself. This isthe man for me.' So I turned back and came to you--you. And--"
"_Lord_!" said Mr. Marvel. "But I'm all in a tizzy. May I ask--Howis 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, withother things. I've left them long enough. If you won't--well! Butyou _will--must_."
"Look here," said Mr. Marvel. "I'm too flabbergasted. Don't knockme about any more. And leave me go. I must get steady a bit. Andyou've pretty near broken my toe. It's all so unreasonable. Emptydowns, empty sky. Nothing visible for miles except the bosom ofNature. 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 thejob 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 exceptsome of those fools down there, who knows there is such a thing asan invisible man. You have to be my helper. Help me--and I willdo great things for you. An invisible man is a man of power." Hestopped for a moment to sneeze violently.
"But if you betray me," he said, "if you fail to do as I direct you--"He paused and tapped Mr. Marvel's shoulder smartly. Mr. Marvelgave a yelp of terror at the touch. "I don't want to betray you,"said Mr. Marvel, edging away from the direction of the fingers."Don't you go a-thinking that, whatever you do. All I want to do isto help you--just tell me what I got to do. (Lord!) Whatever youwant done, that I'm most willing to do."