so easily produced. I don’t know if you have ever seen a really good conjuror.”
“I won’t argue again,” said Cuss. “We’ve discussed all that already, Bunting. And now there are these books. Ah! Greek letters certainly.”
He pointed to the middle of the page. Mr. Bunting flushed slightly and brought his face nearer, apparently finding some difficulty with his glasses. Suddenly he felt a strange feeling at the nape of his neck. He tried to raise his head, and encountered an immovable resistance. The feeling was a curious pressure: a heavy, firm hand bore his chin to the table.
“Don’t move, gentlemen” whispered a voice.
Mr. Bunting looked into the face of Cuss, and saw a reflection of his own astonishment.
“I’m sorry to treat you like this,” said the Voice, “but it’s unavoidable. Since when did you learn to pry into an investigator’s private memoranda?”
Two chins struck the table simultaneously, and two sets of teeth rattled.
“Where have they put my clothes? Listen,” said the Voice. “The windows are fastened and I’ve taken the key out of the door. I am a strong man, and I have the poker-besides being invisible. There’s not the slightest doubt that I could kill you both and get away quite easily if I wanted to-do you understand? Very well. If I let you go, will you promise not to try any nonsense and do what I tell you?”
The vicar and the doctor looked at one another.
“Yes,” said Mr. Bunting, and the doctor repeated it.
Then the pressure on the necks relaxed, and the doctor and the vicar sat up, both very red in the face and wriggling their heads.
“Please keep sitting where you are,” said the Invisible Man. “Here’s the poker, you see.”
“When I came into this room,” continued the Invisible Man, after presenting the poker to the tip of the nose of each of his visitors, “I did not expect to find it occupied, and I expected to find, in addition to my books of memoranda, my clothing. Where is it? No-don’t rise. I can see it’s gone. Though the days are warm enough for an invisible man, the evenings are quite chilly. I want clothing-and I must also have those three books.”
Chapter XII
The Invisible Man Loses His Temper
At this point the narrative should break off again. While these things were going on in the parlour, and while Mr. Huxter was watching Mr. Marvel smoking his pipe against the gate, not a dozen yards away were Mr. Hall and Teddy Henfrey discussing the event in Iping.
Suddenly there came a violent thud against the door of the parlour, a sharp cry, and then-silence.
“Hallo!” said Teddy Henfrey.
Mr. Hall understood things slowly but surely.
“That isn’t right,” he said, and came round from behind the bar towards the parlour door.
He and Teddy approached the door together, with intent faces.
“Something wrong,” said Hall, and Henfrey nodded.
Whiffs of an unpleasant chemical odour met them, and there was a muffled sound of conversation, very rapid and subdued.
“Are you all right there?” asked Hall, rapping.
The muttered conversation ceased abruptly, for a moment silence, then the conversation was resumed, in hissing whispers, then a sharp cry of “No! no, you don’t!” There came a sudden motion and a brief struggle. Silence again.
“What the devil?” exclaimed Henfrey.
“Are you all right there?” asked Mr. Hall, sharply, again.
The Vicar’s voice answered with a curious jerking intonation:
“Quite right. Please don’t interrupt.”
“Odd!” said Mr. Henfrey.
“Odd!” said Mr. Hall.
“They say, ‘Don’t interrupt,’” said Henfrey.
“I heard this,” said Hall.
“And a sniff,” said Henfrey.
They remained listening. The conversation was rapid and subdued.
“I can’t,” said Mr. Bunting, his voice rising; “I tell you, sir, I will not.”
“What was that?” asked Henfrey.
“He says he will not,” said Hall. “Was he speaking to us?”
“Disgraceful!” said Mr. Bunting, within.
“‘Disgraceful,’” said Mr. Henfrey. “I heard it. Who’s that speaking now?” asked Henfrey.
“Mr. Cuss, I suppose,” said Hall. “Can you hear anything?”
Silence.
“Sounds like throwing the table-cloth about,” said Hall.
Mrs. Hall appeared behind the bar. Hall made gestures of silence. This aroused Mrs. Hall’s opposition.
“What are you listening there for, Hall?” she asked. “Do you have nothing better to do?”
Hall and Henfrey, rather crestfallen, tiptoed back to the bar, gesticulating to explain to her.
At first she refused to understand. Then she insisted on Hall keeping silence, while Henfrey told her his story.
“I heard him say ‘disgraceful’; that I did,” said Hall.
“I heard that, too, Mrs. Hall,” said Henfrey.
“So-” began Mrs. Hall.
“Hsh!” said Mr. Teddy Henfrey. “Do you hear the window?”
“What window?” asked Mrs. Hall.
“Parlour window,” said Henfrey.
Everyone stood listening intently. Abruptly Huxter’s door opened and Huxter appeared, eyes staring with excitement, arms gesticulating.
“Stop thief!” cried Huxter and ran across the oblong towards the yard gates, and vanished.
Simultaneously came a tumult from the parlour, and a sound of windows being closed.
Hall, Henfrey, and the rest rushed out at once into the street. They saw someone whisk round the corner towards the road, and Mr. Huxter executing a complicated leap in the air that ended on his face. The people in the street were standing astonished or running towards them.
Mr. Huxter was stunned. Hall and the two labourers from the Tap rushed at once to the corner, and saw Mr. Marvel vanishing by the corner of the church wall. They have made the impossible conclusion that this was the Invisible Man suddenly become visible. But Hall had hardly run a dozen yards before he gave a loud shout of astonishment and went flying sideways, clutching one of the labourers and bringing him to the ground. The second labourer resumed the pursuit, but fell down. Then, as the first labourer stood up, he was kicked sideways by a blow that might have felled an ox.
When Hall and Henfrey and the labourers ran out of the house, Mrs. Hall remained in the bar. And suddenly the parlour door was opened, and Mr. Cuss appeared, and without glancing at her rushed at once down the steps toward the corner.
“Hold him!” he cried. “Don’t let him drop that parcel.”
He knew nothing of the existence of Marvel. The face of Mr. Cuss was angry and resolute.
“Hold him!” he bawled. “He’s got my trousers! And all the Vicar’s clothes! I’ll get him in a minute!” he cried to Henfrey as he passed the Huxter, and, coming round the corner to join the tumult, was promptly knocked off his feet. Somebody in full flight trod heavily on his finger. He yelled, struggled to regain his feet, was knocked against and thrown down again, and became aware that he was involved not in a capture, but a rout. Everyone was running back to the village. He rose again and was hit severely behind the ear. He ran back to the “Coach and Horses”, leaping over the deserted