The Invisible Man By H.G. Wells Chapter 7 The Unveiling of the Stranger

The Invisible Man

By H.G. Wells

Chapter7

The Unveiling of the Stranger

The stranger went into the little parlour of the "Coach and Horses"

about half-past five in the morning, and there he remained until

near midday, the blinds down, the door shut, and none, after Hall's

repulse, venturing near him.

All that time he must have fasted. Thrice he rang his bell, the

third time furiously and continuously, but no one answered him.

"Him and his 'go to the devil' indeed!" said Mrs. Hall. Presently

came an imperfect rumour of the burglary at the vicarage, and two

and two were put together. Hall, assisted by Wadgers, went off to

find Mr. Shuckleforth, the magistrate, and take his advice. No one

ventured upstairs. How the stranger occupied himself is unknown.

Now and then he would stride violently up and down, and twice came

an outburst of curses, a tearing of paper, and a violent smashing

of bottles.

The little group of scared but curious people increased. Mrs. Huxter

came over; some gay young fellows resplendent in black ready-made

jackets and _pique_ paper ties--for it was Whit Monday--joined

the group with confused interrogations. Young Archie Harker

distinguished himself by going up the yard and trying to peep

under the window-blinds. He could see nothing, but gave reason

for supposing that he did, and others of the Iping youth

presently joined him.

It was the finest of all possible Whit Mondays, and down the

village street stood a row of nearly a dozen booths, a shooting

gallery, and on the grass by the forge were three yellow and

chocolate waggons and some picturesque strangers of both sexes

putting up a cocoanut shy. The gentlemen wore blue jerseys, the

ladies white aprons and quite fashionable hats with heavy plumes.

Wodger, of the "Purple Fawn," and Mr. Jaggers, the cobbler, who

also sold old second-hand ordinary bicycles, were stretching a

string of union-jacks and royal ensigns (which had originally

celebrated the first Victorian Jubilee) across the road.

And inside, in the artificial darkness of the parlour, into which

only one thin jet of sunlight penetrated, the stranger, hungry we

must suppose, and fearful, hidden in his uncomfortable hot wrappings,

pored through his dark glasses upon his paper or chinked his dirty

little bottles, and occasionally swore savagely at the boys, audible

if invisible, outside the windows. In the corner by the fireplace

lay the fragments of half a dozen smashed bottles, and a pungent

twang of chlorine tainted the air. So much we know from what was

heard at the time and from what was subsequently seen in the room.

About noon he suddenly opened his parlour door and stood glaring

fixedly at the three or four people in the bar. "Mrs. Hall," he

said. Somebody went sheepishly and called for Mrs. Hall.

Mrs. Hall appeared after an interval, a little short of breath, but

all the fiercer for that. Hall was still out. She had deliberated

over this scene, and she came holding a little tray with an

unsettled bill upon it. "Is it your bill you're wanting, sir?" she

said.

"Why wasn't my breakfast laid? Why haven't you prepared my meals

and answered my bell? Do you think I live without eating?"

"Why isn't my bill paid?" said Mrs. Hall. "That's what I want to

know."

"I told you three days ago I was awaiting a remittance--"

"I told you two days ago I wasn't going to await no remittances.

You can't grumble if your breakfast waits a bit, if my bill's been

waiting these five days, can you?"

The stranger swore briefly but vividly.

"Nar, nar!" from the bar.

"And I'd thank you kindly, sir, if you'd keep your swearing to

yourself, sir," said Mrs. Hall.

The stranger stood looking more like an angry diving-helmet than

ever. It was universally felt in the bar that Mrs. Hall had the

better of him. His next words showed as much.

"Look here, my good woman--" he began.

"Don't 'good woman' _me_," said Mrs. Hall.

"I've told you my remittance hasn't come."

"Remittance indeed!" said Mrs. Hall.

"Still, I daresay in my pocket--"

"You told me three days ago that you hadn't anything but a

sovereign's worth of silver upon you."

"Well, I've found some more--"

"'Ul-lo!" from the bar.

"I wonder where you found it," said Mrs. Hall.

That seemed to annoy the stranger very much. He stamped his foot.

"What do you mean?" he said.

"That I wonder where you found it," said Mrs. Hall. "And before I

take any bills or get any breakfasts, or do any such things

whatsoever, you got to tell me one or two things I don't understand,

and what nobody don't understand, and what everybody is very anxious

to understand. I want to know what you been doing t'my chair

upstairs, and I want to know how 'tis your room was empty, and how

you got in again. Them as stops in this house comes in by the

doors--that's the rule of the house, and that you _didn't_ do, and

what I want to know is how you _did_ come in. And I want to know--"

Suddenly the stranger raised his gloved hands clenched, stamped his

foot, and said, "Stop!" with such extraordinary violence that he

silenced her instantly.

"You don't understand," he said, "who I am or what I am. I'll show

you. By Heaven! I'll show you." Then he put his open palm over his

face and withdrew it. The centre of his face became a black cavity.

"Here," he said. He stepped forward and handed Mrs. Hall something

which she, staring at his metamorphosed face, accepted automatically.

Then, when she saw what it was, she screamed loudly, dropped it, and

staggered back. The nose--it was the stranger's nose! pink and

shining--rolled on the floor.

Then he removed his spectacles, and everyone in the bar gasped. He

took off his hat, and with a violent gesture tore at his whiskers

and bandages. For a moment they resisted him. A flash of horrible

anticipation passed through the bar. "Oh, my Gard!" said some one.

Then off they came.

It was worse than anything. Mrs. Hall, standing open-mouthed and

horror-struck, shrieked at what she saw, and made for the door of

the house. Everyone began to move. They were prepared for scars,

disfigurements, tangible horrors, but nothing! The bandages and

false hair flew across the passage into the bar, making a

hobbledehoy jump to avoid them. Everyone tumbled on everyone else

down the steps. For the man who stood there shouting some incoherent

explanation, was a solid gesticulating figure up to the coat-collar

of him, and then--nothingness, no visible thing at all!