The Invisible Man by H.G. Wells Chapter 23 In Drury Lane Part One

The Invisible Man

by H.G. Wells

Chapter 23

In Drury Lane

Part One

"But you begin now to realise," said the Invisible Man, "the full

disadvantage of my condition. I had no shelter--no covering--to

get clothing was to forego all my advantage, to make myself a

strange and terrible thing. I was fasting; for to eat, to fill

myself with unassimilated matter, would be to become grotesquely

visible again."

"I never thought of that," said Kemp.

"Nor had I. And the snow had warned me of other dangers. I could not

go abroad in snow--it would settle on me and expose me. Rain, too,

would make me a watery outline, a glistening surface of a man--a

bubble. And fog--I should be like a fainter bubble in a fog,

a surface, a greasy glimmer of humanity. Moreover, as I went

abroad--in the London air--I gathered dirt about my ankles, floating

smuts and dust upon my skin. I did not know how long it would be

before I should become visible from that cause also. But I saw

clearly it could not be for long.

"Not in London at any rate.

"I went into the slums towards Great Portland Street, and found

myself at the end of the street in which I had lodged. I did not

go that way, because of the crowd halfway down it opposite to the

still smoking ruins of the house I had fired. My most immediate

problem was to get clothing. What to do with my face puzzled me.

Then I saw in one of those little miscellaneous shops--news,

sweets, toys, stationery, belated Christmas tomfoolery, and so

forth--an array of masks and noses. I realised that problem was

solved. In a flash I saw my course. I turned about, no longer

aimless, and went--circuitously in order to avoid the busy ways,

towards the back streets north of the Strand; for I remembered,

though not very distinctly where, that some theatrical costumiers

had shops in that district.

"The day was cold, with a nipping wind down the northward running

streets. I walked fast to avoid being overtaken. Every crossing was

a danger, every passenger a thing to watch alertly. One man as I

was about to pass him at the top of Bedford Street, turned upon

me abruptly and came into me, sending me into the road and almost

under the wheel of a passing hansom. The verdict of the cab-rank

was that he had had some sort of stroke. I was so unnerved by this

encounter that I went into Covent Garden Market and sat down for

some time in a quiet corner by a stall of violets, panting and

trembling. I found I had caught a fresh cold, and had to turn out

after a time lest my sneezes should attract attention.

"At last I reached the object of my quest, a dirty, fly-blown little

shop in a by-way near Drury Lane, with a window full of tinsel

robes, sham jewels, wigs, slippers, dominoes and theatrical

photographs. The shop was old-fashioned and low and dark, and the

house rose above it for four storeys, dark and dismal. I peered

through the window and, seeing no one within, entered. The opening

of the door set a clanking bell ringing. I left it open, and walked

round a bare costume stand, into a corner behind a cheval glass. For

a minute or so no one came. Then I heard heavy feet striding across

a room, and a man appeared down the shop.

"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

credible figure. And incidentally of course I could rob the house

of any available money.

"The man who had just entered the shop was a short, slight,

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 to 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 with his foot spitefully, and went

muttering back to the house door.

"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 reopened. 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--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 on 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 just managed to get by 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 then he stopped again

with the same puzzled anger on his face. He was becoming aware of

the faint sounds of my movements about him. The man must have had

diabolically acute hearing. He suddenly flashed into rage. 'If

there's anyone 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 tumble-down,

damp so that the paper in the attics was peeling from the walls, and

rat infested. Some 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 peering 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. That

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 lips. 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, 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--"

The