The Invisible Man by H.G. Wells Chapter 18 The Invisible Man Sleeps

The Invisible Man
by H.G. Wells
Chapter 18
The Invisible Man Sleeps

Exhausted and wounded as the Invisible Man was, he refused to accept

Kemp's word that his freedom should be respected. He examined the

two windows of the bedroom, drew up the blinds and opened the

sashes, to confirm Kemp's statement that a retreat by them would be

possible. Outside the night was very quiet and still, and the new

moon was setting over the down. Then he examined the keys of the

bedroom and the two dressing-room doors, to satisfy himself that

these also could be made an assurance of freedom. Finally he

expressed himself satisfied. He stood on the hearth rug and Kemp

heard the sound of a yawn.

"I'm sorry," said the Invisible Man, "if I cannot tell you all that

I have done to-night. But I am worn out. It's grotesque, no doubt.

It's horrible! But believe me, Kemp, in spite of your arguments of

this morning, it is quite a possible thing. I have made a discovery.

I meant to keep it to myself. I can't. I must have a partner. And

you.... We can do such things ... But to-morrow. Now, Kemp, I feel

as though I must sleep or perish."

Kemp stood in the middle of the room staring at the headless garment.

"I suppose I must leave you," he said. "It's--incredible. Three

things happening like this, overturning all my preconceptions--would

make me insane. But it's real! Is there anything more that I can

get you?"

"Only bid me good-night," said Griffin.

"Good-night," said Kemp, and shook an invisible hand. He walked

sideways to the door. Suddenly the dressing-gown walked quickly

towards him. "Understand me!" said the dressing-gown. "No attempts

to hamper me, or capture me! Or--"

Kemp's face changed a little. "I thought I gave you my word," he

said.

Kemp closed the door softly behind him, and the key was turned upon

him forthwith. Then, as he stood with an expression of passive

amazement on his face, the rapid feet came to the door of the

dressing-room and that too was locked. Kemp slapped his brow with

his hand. "Am I dreaming? Has the world gone mad--or have I?"

He laughed, and put his hand to the locked door. "Barred out of my

own bedroom, by a flagrant absurdity!" he said.

He walked to the head of the staircase, turned, and stared at the

locked doors. "It's fact," he said. He put his fingers to his

slightly bruised neck. "Undeniable fact!

"But--"

He shook his head hopelessly, turned, and went downstairs.

He lit the dining-room lamp, got out a cigar, and began pacing the

room, ejaculating. Now and then he would argue with himself.

"Invisible!" he said.

"Is there such a thing as an invisible animal? ... In the sea, yes.

Thousands--millions. All the larvae, all the little nauplii and

tornarias, all the microscopic things, the jelly-fish. In the sea

there are more things invisible than visible! I never thought of

that before. And in the ponds too! All those little pond-life

things--specks of colourless translucent jelly! But in air? No!

"It can't be.

"But after all--why not?

"If a man was made of glass he would still be visible."

His meditation became profound. The bulk of three cigars had passed

into the invisible or diffused as a white ash over the carpet before

he spoke again. Then it was merely an exclamation. He turned aside,

walked out of the room, and went into his little consulting-room and

lit the gas there. It was a little room, because Dr. Kemp did not

live by practice, and in it were the day's newspapers. The morning's

paper lay carelessly opened and thrown aside. He caught it up,

turned it over, and read the account of a "Strange Story from Iping"

that the mariner at Port Stowe had spelt over so painfully to Mr.

Marvel. Kemp read it swiftly.

"Wrapped up!" said Kemp. "Disguised! Hiding it! 'No one seems to

have been aware of his misfortune.' What the devil _is_ his game?"

He dropped the paper, and his eye went seeking. "Ah!" he said, and

caught up the _St. James' Gazette_, lying folded up as it arrived.

"Now we shall get at the truth," said Dr. Kemp. He rent the paper

open; a couple of columns confronted him. "An Entire Village in

Sussex goes Mad" was the heading.

"Good Heavens!" said Kemp, reading eagerly an incredulous account

of the events in Iping, of the previous afternoon, that have

already been described. Over the leaf the report in the morning

paper had been reprinted.

He re-read it. "Ran through the streets striking right and left.

Jaffers insensible. Mr. Huxter in great pain--still unable to

describe what he saw. Painful humiliation--vicar. Woman ill with

terror! Windows smashed. This extraordinary story probably a

fabrication. Too good not to print--_cum grano_!"

He dropped the paper and stared blankly in front of him. "Probably

a fabrication!"

He caught up the paper again, and re-read the whole business. "But

when does the Tramp come in? Why the deuce was he chasing a tramp?"

He sat down abruptly on the surgical bench. "He's not only

invisible," he said, "but he's mad! Homicidal!"

When dawn came to mingle its pallor with the lamp-light and cigar

smoke of the dining-room, Kemp was still pacing up and down, trying

to grasp the incredible.

He was altogether too excited to sleep. His servants, descending

sleepily, discovered him, and were inclined to think that

over-study had worked this ill on him. He gave them extraordinary

but quite explicit instructions to lay breakfast for two in the

belvedere study--and then to confine themselves to the basement

and ground-floor. Then he continued to pace the dining-room until

the morning's paper came. That had much to say and little to tell,

beyond the confirmation of the evening before, and a very badly

written account of another remarkable tale from Port Burdock. This

gave Kemp the essence of the happenings at the "Jolly Cricketers,"

and the name of Marvel. "He has made me keep with him twenty-four

hours," Marvel testified. Certain minor facts were added to the

Iping story, notably the cutting of the village telegraph-wire.

But there was nothing to throw light on the connexion between

the Invisible Man and the Tramp; for Mr. Marvel had supplied no

information about the three books, or the money with which he was

lined. The incredulous tone had vanished and a shoal of reporters

and inquirers were already at work elaborating the matter.

Kemp read every scrap of the report and sent his housemaid out to

get every one of the morning papers she could. These also he

devoured.

"He is invisible!" he said. "And it reads like rage growing to

mania! The things he may do! The things he may do! And he's

upstairs free as the air. What on earth ought I to do?"

"For instance, would it be a breach of faith if--? No."

He went to a little untidy desk in the corner, and began a note. He

tore this up half written, and wrote another. He read it over and

considered it. Then he took an envelope and addressed it to "Colonel

Adye, Port Burdock."

The Invisible Man awoke even as Kemp was doing this. He awoke in an

evil temper, and Kemp, alert for every sound, heard his pattering

feet rush suddenly across the bedroom overhead. Then a chair was

flung over and the wash-hand stand tumbler smashed. Kemp hurried

upstairs and rapped eagerly.