by H. G. Wells
CHAPTER X
MR. MARVEL'S VISIT TO IPING
After the first gusty panic had spent itself Iping becameargumentative. Scepticism suddenly reared its head--rather nervousscepticism, not at all assured of its back, but scepticismnevertheless. It is so much easier not to believe in an invisibleman; and those who had actually seen him dissolve into air, or feltthe strength of his arm, could be counted on the fingers of twohands. And of these witnesses Mr. Wadgers was presently missing,having retired impregnably behind the bolts and bars of his ownhouse, and Jaffers was lying stunned in the parlour of the "Coachand Horses." Great and strange ideas transcending experience oftenhave less effect upon men and women than smaller, more tangibleconsiderations. Iping was gay with bunting, and everybody was ingala dress. Whit Monday had been looked forward to for a month ormore. By the afternoon even those who believed in the Unseen werebeginning to resume their little amusements in a tentative fashion,on the supposition that he had quite gone away, and with thesceptics he was already a jest. But people, sceptics and believersalike, were remarkably sociable all that day.
Haysman's meadow was gay with a tent, in which Mrs. Bunting andother ladies were preparing tea, while, without, the Sunday-schoolchildren ran races and played games under the noisy guidance of thecurate and the Misses Cuss and Sackbut. No doubt there was a slightuneasiness in the air, but people for the most part had the senseto conceal whatever imaginative qualms they experienced. On thevillage green an inclined strong [rope?], down which, clingingthe while to a pulley-swung handle, one could be hurled violently againsta sack at the other end, came in for considerable favour among theadolescents, as also did the swings and the cocoanut shies. Therewas also promenading, and the steam organ attached to a smallroundabout filled the air with a pungent flavour of oil and withequally pungent music. Members of the club, who had attendedchurch in the morning, were splendid in badges of pink and green,and some of the gayer-minded had also adorned their bowler hatswith brilliant-coloured favours of ribbon. Old Fletcher, whoseconceptions of holiday-making were severe, was visible through thejasmine about his window or through the open door (whichever wayyou chose to look), poised delicately on a plank supported on twochairs, and whitewashing the ceiling of his front room.
About four o'clock a stranger entered the village from the directionof the downs. He was a short, stout person in an extraordinarilyshabby top hat, and he appeared to be very much out of breath. Hischeeks were alternately limp and tightly puffed. His mottled facewas apprehensive, and he moved with a sort of reluctant alacrity. Heturned the corner of the church, and directed his way to the "Coachand Horses." Among others old Fletcher remembers seeing him, andindeed the old gentleman was so struck by his peculiar agitationthat he inadvertently allowed a quantity of whitewash to run downthe brush into the sleeve of his coat while regarding him.
This stranger, to the perceptions of the proprietor of the cocoanutshy, appeared to be talking to himself, and Mr. Huxter remarked thesame thing. He stopped at the foot of the "Coach and Horses" steps,and, according to Mr. Huxter, appeared to undergo a severe internalstruggle before he could induce himself to enter the house. Finallyhe marched up the steps, and was seen by Mr. Huxter to turn to theleft and open the door of the parlour. Mr. Huxter heard voices fromwithin the room and from the bar apprising the man of his error."That room's private!" said Hall, and the stranger shut the doorclumsily and went into the bar.
In the course of a few minutes he reappeared, wiping his lips withthe back of his hand with an air of quiet satisfaction that somehowimpressed Mr. Huxter as assumed. He stood looking about him forsome moments, and then Mr. Huxter saw him walk in an oddly furtivemanner towards the gates of the yard, upon which the parlour windowopened. The stranger, after some hesitation, leant against one ofthe gate-posts, produced a short clay pipe, and prepared to fillit. His fingers trembled while doing so. He lit it clumsily, andfolding his arms began to smoke in a languid attitude, an attitudewhich his occasional glances up the yard altogether belied.
All this Mr. Huxter saw over the canisters of the tobacco window,and the singularity of the man's behaviour prompted him to maintainhis observation.
Presently the stranger stood up abruptly and put his pipe in hispocket. Then he vanished into the yard. Forthwith Mr. Huxter,conceiving he was witness of some petty larceny, leapt round hiscounter and ran out into the road to intercept the thief. As he didso, Mr. Marvel reappeared, his hat askew, a big bundle in a bluetable-cloth in one hand, and three books tied together--as it provedafterwards with the Vicar's braces--in the other. Directly he sawHuxter he gave a sort of gasp, and turning sharply to the left,began to run. "Stop, thief!" cried Huxter, and set off after him.Mr. Huxter's sensations were vivid but brief. He saw the man justbefore him and spurting briskly for the church corner and the hillroad. He saw the village flags and festivities beyond, and a face orso turned towards him. He bawled, "Stop!" again. He had hardly goneten strides before his shin was caught in some mysterious fashion,and he was no longer running, but flying with inconceivable rapiditythrough the air. He saw the ground suddenly close to his face. Theworld seemed to splash into a million whirling specks of light, andsubsequent proceedings interested him no more.