The Invisible Man by H.G. Wells Chapter 9 Mr. Thomas Marvel, Part two

The Invisible Man

by H.G. Wells

Chapter 9

Mr. Thomas Marvel, Part two

It's fretting about them blarsted boots. I'm off my blessed blooming

chump. 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 with

self-control.

"Well?" said Mr. Thomas Marvel, with a strange feeling of having

been 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 of

his neck.

"Very well," said the Voice, in a tone of relief. "Then I'm going

to throw flints at you till you think differently."

"But where _are_ yer?"

The Voice made no answer. Whizz came a flint, apparently out of

the air, and missed Mr. Marvel's shoulder by a hair's-breadth.

Mr. Marvel, turning, saw a flint jerk up into the air, trace a

complicated path, hang for a moment, and then fling at his feet

with almost invisible rapidity. He was too amazed to dodge. Whizz

it came, and ricochetted from a bare toe into the ditch. Mr. Thomas

Marvel jumped a foot and howled aloud. Then he started to run,

tripped over an unseen obstacle, and came head over heels into a

sitting position.

"_Now_," said the Voice, as a third stone curved upward and hung in

the air above the tramp. "Am I imagination?"

Mr. Marvel by way of reply struggled to his feet, and was

immediately rolled over again. He lay quiet for a moment. "If you

struggle any more," said the Voice, "I shall throw the flint at

your head."

"It's a fair do," said Mr. Thomas Marvel, sitting up, taking his

wounded toe in hand and fixing his eye on the third missile. "I

don'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 with

pain. "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 want

you to understand."

"Anyone could see that. There is no need for you to be so confounded

impatient, mister. _Now_ then. Give us a notion. How are you hid?"

"I'm invisible. That's the great point. And what I want you to

understand 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 just

thin 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, needing

covering 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't

be so darn out-of-the-way like, then--_Lord_!" he said, "how you made

me jump!--gripping me like that!"

He felt the hand that had closed round his wrist with his disengaged

fingers, and his fingers went timorously up the arm, patted a

muscular chest, and explored a bearded face. Marvel's face was

astonishment.

"I'm dashed!" he said. "If this don't beat cock-fighting! Most

remarkable!--And there I can see a rabbit clean through you, 'arf

a mile away! Not a bit of you visible--except--"

He scrutinised the apparently empty space keenly. "You 'aven't been

eatin' 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. Thomas

Marvel. "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 to

that--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 is

the 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--How

is 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, with

other things. I've left them long enough. If you won't--well! But

you _will--must_."

"Look here," said Mr. Marvel. "I'm too flabbergasted. Don't knock

me about any more. And leave me go. I must get steady a bit. And

you've pretty near broken my toe. It's all so unreasonable. Empty

downs, empty sky. Nothing visible for miles except the bosom of

Nature. 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 the

job 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 except

some of those fools down there, who knows there is such a thing as

an invisible man. You have to be my helper. Help me--and I will

do great things for you. An invisible man is a man of power." He

stopped 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. Marvel

gave 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 is

to help you--just tell me what I got to do. (Lord!) Whatever you

want done, that I'm most willing to do."