surrounded by wise books, bright windows in this life of ours lit by the shining souls of men. I see few strangers, and have but a small household. My days I devote to reading and to experiments in chemistry, and I spend many of the clear nights in the study of astronomy. There is, though I do not know how there is or why there is, a sense of infinite peace and protection in the glittering hosts of heaven. There it must be, I think, in the vast and eternal laws of matter, and not in the daily cares and sins and troubles of men, that whatever is more than animal within us must find its solace and its hope. I hope, or I could not live. And so, in hope and solitude, my story ends.
EDWARD PRENDICK
THE INVISIBLE MAN
CHAPTER I. THE STRANGE MAN’S ARRIVAL
CHAPTER II. MR. TEDDY HENFREY’S FIRST IMPRESSIONS
CHAPTER III. THE THOUSAND AND ONE BOTTLES
CHAPTER IV. MR. CUSS INTERVIEWS THE STRANGER
CHAPTER V. THE BURGLARY AT THE VICARAGE
CHAPTER VI. THE FURNITURE THAT WENT MAD
CHAPTER VII. THE UNVEILING OF THE STRANGER
CHAPTER X. MR. MARVEL’S VISIT TO IPING
CHAPTER XI. IN THE “COACH AND HORSES”
CHAPTER XII. THE INVISIBLE MAN LOSES HIS TEMPER
CHAPTER XIII. MR. MARVEL DISCUSSES HIS RESIGNATION
CHAPTER XV. THE MAN WHO WAS RUNNING
CHAPTER XVI. IN THE “JOLLY CRICKETERS”
CHAPTER XVII. DR. KEMP’S VISITOR
CHAPTER XVIII. THE INVISIBLE MAN SLEEPS
CHAPTER XIX. CERTAIN FIRST PRINCIPLES
CHAPTER XX. AT THE HOUSE IN GREAT PORTLAND STREET
CHAPTER XXIV. THE PLAN THAT FAILED
CHAPTER XXV. THE HUNTING OF THE INVISIBLE MAN
CHAPTER XXVI. THE WICKSTEED MURDER
CHAPTER XXVII. THE SIEGE OF KEMP’S HOUSE
CHAPTER XXVIII. THE HUNTER HUNTED
CHAPTER I
THE STRANGE MAN’S ARRIVAL
The stranger came early in February, one wintry day, through a biting wind and a driving snow, the last snowfall of the year, over the down, walking from Bramblehurst railway station, and carrying a little black portmanteau in his thickly gloved hand. He was wrapped up from head to foot, and the brim of his soft felt hat hid every inch of his face but the shiny tip of his nose; the snow had piled itself against his shoulders and chest, and added a white crest to the burden he carried. He staggered into the “Coach and Horses” more dead than alive, and flung his portmanteau down. “A fire,” he cried, “in the name of human charity! A room and a fire!” He stamped and shook the snow from off himself in the bar, and followed Mrs. Hall into her guest parlour to strike his bargain. And with that much introduction, that and a couple of sovereigns flung upon the table, he took up his quarters in the inn.
Mrs. Hall lit the fire and left him there while she went to prepare him a meal with her own hands. A guest to stop at Iping in the wintertime was an unheard-of piece of luck, let alone a guest who was no “haggler,” and she was resolved to show herself worthy of her good fortune. As soon as the bacon was well under way, and Millie, her lymphatic aid, had been brisked up a bit by a few deftly chosen expressions of contempt, she carried the cloth, plates, and glasses into the parlour and began to lay them with the utmost éclat. Although the fire was burning up briskly, she was surprised to see that her visitor still wore his hat and coat, standing with his back to her and staring out of the window at the falling snow in the yard. His gloved hands were clasped behind him, and he seemed to be lost in thought. She noticed that the melting snow that still sprinkled his shoulders dripped upon her carpet. “Can I take your hat and coat, sir?” she said, “and give them a good dry in the kitchen?”
“No,” he said without turning.
She was not sure she had heard him, and was about to repeat her question.
He turned his head and looked at her over his shoulder. “I prefer to keep them on,” he said with emphasis, and she noticed that he wore big blue spectacles with sidelights, and had a bush side-whisker over his coat-collar that completely hid his cheeks and face.
“Very well, sir,” she said. “As you like. In a bit the room will be warmer.”
He made no answer, and had turned his face away from her again, and Mrs. Hall, feeling that her conversational advances were illtimed, laid the rest of the table things in a quick staccato and whisked out of the room. When she returned he was still standing there, like a man of stone, his back hunched, his collar turned up, his dripping hat-brim turned down, hiding his face and ears completely. She put down the eggs and bacon with considerable emphasis, and called rather than said to him, “Your lunch is served, sir.”
“Thank you,” he said at the same time, and