Doctor Kemp had continued writing in his study until the shots disturbed him. Crack, crack, crack, they came one after the other.
"Hello!" said Doctor Kemp, putting his pen into his mouth again and listening. "Who's letting off revolvers in Burdock? What are the asses at now?"
He went to the south window, threw it open, and leaning out stared down on the network of windows, gas-lamps and shops with black patches of roof and yard that made up the town at night. "Looks like a crowd down the hill," he said, "by the Cricketers," and remained watching. Then his eyes wandered over the town to far away where the ships' lights shone, and the pier glowed, a little illuminated pavilion like a gem of yellow light. The moon in its first quarter hung over the western hill, and the stars were clear and almost tropically bright.
After five minutes, during which his mind had travelled into a remote speculation of social conditions of the future, and lost itself at last over the time dimension, Doctor Kemp roused himself with a sigh, pulled down the window again, and returned to his writing-desk.
It must have been about an hour after this that the front-door bell rang. He had been writing slackly and with intervals of abstraction, since the shots. He sat listening. He heard the servant answer the door, and waited for her feet on the staircase, but she did not come. "Wonder what that was," said Doctor Kemp.
He tried to resume his work, failed, got up, went downstairs from his study to the landing, rang, and called over the balustrade to the housemaid as she appeared in the hall below. "Was that a letter?" he asked.
"Only a runaway ring, sir," she answered.
"I'm restless to-night," he said to himself. He went back to his study, and this time attacked his work resolutely. In a little while he was hard at work again, and the only sounds in the room were the ticking of the clock and the subdued sound of his pen, hurrying in the very centre of the circle of light his lamp-shade threw on his table.
It was two o'clock before Doctor Kemp had finished his work for the night. He got up, yawned, and went downstairs to bed. He had already removed his coat and waist-coat, when he noticed that he was thirsty. He took a candle and went down to the dining-room in search of a siphon and whisky.
Doctor Kemp's scientific pursuits had made him a very observant man, and as he recrossed the hall, he noticed a dark spot on the floor near the mat at the foot of the stairs. He went on upstairs, and then it suddenly occurred to him to ask himself what the spot on the floor might be. Apparently some subconscious element was at work. At any rate, he turned, went back to the hall, put down the siphon and whisky, and bending down, touched the spot. Without any great surprise he found it had the stickiness and colour of drying blood.
He picked up his drink again, and returned upstairs, looking about him and trying to explain the blood-spot. On the landing he saw something and stopped astonished. The door-handle of his own room was blood-stained.
He looked at his own hand. It was quite clean, and then he remembered that the door of his room had been open when he came down from his study, and that consequently he had not touched the handle at all. He went straight into his room, his face quite calm - perhaps a little more resolute that usual. His glance, wandering inquisitively, fell on the bed. On the eiderdown was a patch of blood, and the sheet had been torn. He had not noticed this before because he had walked straight to the dressing-table. On the further side the bed- clothes were depressed as if some one had been recently sitting there.
Then he had an odd impression that he had heard a loud voice say, "Good Heavens! - Kemp!" But Doctor Kemp was no believer in Voices.
He stood staring at the tumbled sheets. Was that really a voice? He looked about again, but noticed nothing more than the disordered and blood-stained bed. Then he distinctly heard a movement across the room, near the wash-basin. All men, however highly educated, retain some superstitious ideas. The feeling that is called "eerie" came upon him. He closed the door of the room, came forward to the dressing-table, and put down his drink. Suddenly, with a jump, he perceived a blood-stained bandage hanging in mid-air, between him and the wash-basin.
He stared at this in amazement. It was an empty bandage, a bandage properly tied but quite empty. He would have advanced to grasp it, but a touch stopped him, and a voice speaking quite close to him.
"Kemp!" said the Voice.
"Eh?" said Kemp, with his mouth open.
"Keep your nerve," said the Voice. "I'm an Invisible Man."
Kemp made no answer for a while, simply stared at the bandage. "Invisible Man," he said.
"I'm an Invisible Man," repeated the Voice.
The story he had been ridiculing only that morning rushed through Kemp's brain. He does not appear to have been either very much frightened or very greatly surprised at the moment. Realisation came later.
"I thought it was all a lie," he said. The thought uppermost in his mind was the reiterated arguments of the morning. "Have you a bandage on?" he asked.
"Yes," said the Invisible Man.
"Oh!" said Kemp, and then roused himself. "I say!" he said. "But this is nonsense. It's some trick." He stepped forward suddenly, and his hand, extended towards the bandage, met invisible fingers.
He recoiled at the touch and his colour changed.
"Keep steady, Kemp, for God's sake! I want help badly. Stop!"
The hand gripped his arm. He hit at it.
"Kemp!" cried the Voice. "Kemp! Keep steady!" and the grip tightened.
A frantic desire to free himself took possession of Kemp. The hand of the bandaged arm gripped his shoulder, and he was suddenly tripped and thrown backwards upon the bed. He opened his mouth to shout, and the corner of the sheet was pushed between his teeth. The Invisible Man had him down, but his arms were free and he hit and tried to kick savagely.
"Listen to reason, will you?" said the Invisible Man, sticking to him in spite of a pounding in the ribs. "By Heaven! you'll madden me in a minute!
"Lie still, you fool!" shouted the Invisible Man in Kemp's ear.
Kemp struggled for another moment and then lay still.
"If you shout I'll smash your face," said the Invisible Man, relieving his mouth.
"I'm an Invisible Man. It's no foolishness, and no magic. I really am an Invisible Man. And I want your help. I don't want to hurt you, but if you behave like a frantic peasant, I must. Don't you remember me, Kemp? - Griffin, of University College?"
"Let me get up," said Kemp. "I'll stay where I am. And let me sit quiet for a minute."
He sat up and felt his neck.
"I am Griffin, of University College, and I have made myself invisible. I am just an ordinary man - a man you have known - made invisible."
"Griffin?" said Kemp.
"Griffin," answered the Voice - "a younger student, almost an albino, six feet high, and broad, with a pink and white face and red eyes - who won the medal for chemistry."
"I am confused," said Kemp. "My brain is rioting. What has this to do with Griffin?"
"I am Griffin."
Kempt thought. "It's horrible," he said. "But what devilry must happen to make a man invisible?"
"It's no devilry. It's a process, logical and intelligible enough - "
"It's horrible!" said Kemp. "How on earth - ?"
"It's horrible enough. But I'm wounded and in pain, and tired - Great God! Kemp, you are a man. Take it steady. Give me some food and drink, and let me sit down here."
Kemp stared at the bandage as it moved across the room, then saw a basket chair pulled across the floor and come to a stop near the bed. It creaked, and the seat was depressed a quarter of an inch or so. He rubbed his eyes and felt his neck again. "This beats ghosts," he said, and laughed stupidly.
"That's better. Thank Heaven, you're getting sensible!"
"Or silly," said Kemp, and rubbed his eyes.
"Give me some whisky. I'm near dead."
"It didn't feel so. Where are you? If I get up shall I run into you? There! all right. Whisky? Here. Where shall I give it you?"
The chair creaked and Kemp felt the glass taken away from him. He let go by an effort; his instinct was all against it. It came to rest poised twenty inches above the front edge of the seat of the chair. He stared at it in infinite perplexity. "This is - this must be - hypnotism. You must have suggested you are invisible."
"Nonsense," said the Voice.
"It's ridiculous."
"Listen to me."
"I demonstrated conclusively this morning," began Kemp, "that invisibility - "
"Never mind what you've demonstrated! - I'm starving," said the Voice, "and the night is - chilly to a man without clothes."
"Food!" said Kemp.
The glass of whisky tilted itself. "Yes," said the Invisible Man, putting it down. "Have you got a dressing gown?"
Kemp made some exclamation in an undertone. He walked to a wardrobe and produced a robe of dark scarlet. "This do?" he asked. It was taken from him. It hung limp for a moment in mid-air, fluttered weirdly, stood full and decorous buttoning itself, and sat down in his chair. "Pants, socks, slippers would be a comfort," said the Unseen. "And food."
"Anything. But this is the insanest thing I ever was in, in my life!"
He turned out his drawers for the articles, and then went downstairs to the kitchen. He came back with some cold steaks and bread, pulled up a light table, and placed them before his guest. "Never mind knives," said his visitor, and a steak hung in mid-air, with a sound of chewing.
"Invisible!" said Kemp, and sat down on a bedroom chair.
"I always like to put something on before I eat," said the Invisible Man, with a full mouth, eating greedily. "Strange fancy!"
"I suppose that wrist is all right," said Kemp.
"Trust me," said the Invisible Man.
"Of all the strange and wonderful - "
"Exactly. But it's odd I should run into your house to get my bandaging. My first stroke of luck. Anyhow I meant to sleep in this house to-night. You must stand that! It's a filthy nuisance, my blood showing, isn't it? Quite a patch over there. Gets visible as it coagulates, I see. I've been in the house three hours."
"But how's it done?" began Kemp, in a tone of exasperation. "Confound it! The whole business - it's unreasonable from beginning to end."
"Quite reasonable," said the Invisible Man. "Perfectly reasonable."
He reached over and secured the whisky bottle. Kemp stared at the devouring dressing-gown. A ray of candle-light penetrating a torn patch in the right shoulder, made a triangle of light under the left ribs. "What were the shots?" he asked. "How did the shooting begin?"
"There was a fool of a man - a sort of confederate of mine - curse him! - who tried to steal my money. Has done so."
"Is he invisible too?"
"No."
"Well?"
"Can't I have some more to eat before I tell you all that? I'm hungry - in pain. And you want me to tell stories!"
Kemp got up. "You didn't do any shooting?" he asked.
"Not me," said his visitor. "Some fool I'd never seen fired at random. A lot of them got scared. They all got scared at me. Curse them! - I say - I want more to eat than this, Kemp."
"I'll see what there is more to eat downstairs," said Kemp. "Not much, I'm afraid."
After he had finished eating, and he made a heavy meal, the Invisible Man demanded a cigar. He bit the end savagely before Kemp could find a knife, and cursed when the outer leaf loosened. It was strange to see him smoking; his mouth and throat, pharynx and nostrils, became visible as a sort of whirling smoke cast.
"This blessed gift of smoking!" he said, and puffed vigorously. "I'm lucky to have come upon you, Kemp. You must help me. Fancy running into you just now! I'm in a devilish mess. I've been mad, I think. The things I have been through! But we will do things yet. Let me tell you - "
He helped himself to more whisky and soda. Kemp got up, looked about him, and fetched himself a glass from his spare room. "It's wild - but I suppose I may drink."
"You haven't changed much, Kemp, these dozen years. You fair men don't. Cool and methodical - after the first collapse. I must tell you. We will work together!"
"But how was it all done?" said Kemp, "and how did you get like this?"
"For God's sake, let me smoke in peace for a little while! And then I will begin to tell you."
But the story was not told that night. The Invisible Man's wrist was growing painful, he was feverish, exhausted, and his mind came round to remember his chase down the hill and the struggle about the inn. He spoke in fragments of Marvel, he smoked faster, his voice grew angry. Kemp tried to gather what he could.
"He was afraid of me, I could see he was afraid of me," said the Invisible Man many times over. "He meant to give me the slip! What a fool I was!
"The cur!
"I should have killed him - "
"Where did you get the money?" asked Kemp, abruptly.
The Invisible Man was silent for a space. "I can't tell you to-night," he said.
He groaned suddenly and leant forward, supporting his invisible head on invisible hands. "Kemp," he said, "I've had no sleep for nearly three days - except a couple of dozes of an hour or so. I must sleep soon."
"Well, have my room - have this room."
"But how can I sleep? If I sleep - he will get away. Ugh! What does it matter?"
"What's the shot-wound?" asked Kemp, abruptly.
"Nothing - scratch and blood. Oh, God! How I want sleep!"
"Why not?"
The Invisible Man appeared to be looking at Kemp. "Because I've a particular objection to being caught by my fellow-men," he said slowly.
Kemp jumped.
"Fool that I am!" said the Invisible Man, striking the table smartly. "I've put the idea into your head."