IN THE “COACH AND HORSES”
Now in order clearly to understand what had happened
in the inn, it is necessary to go back to the moment
when Mr. Marvel first came into view of Mr. Huxter’s
window.
At that precise moment Mr. Cuss and Mr. Bunting were
in the parlour. They were seriously investigating
the strange occurrences of the morning, and were,
with Mr. Hall’s permission, making a thorough
examination of the Invisible Man’s belongings.
Jaffers had partially recovered from his fall and
had gone home in the charge of his sympathetic friends.
The stranger’s scattered garments had been removed
by Mrs. Hall and the room tidied up. And on the
table under the window where the stranger had been
wont to work, Cuss had hit almost at once on three
big books in manuscript labelled “Diary.”
“Diary!” said Cuss, putting the three
books on the table. “Now, at any rate,
we shall learn something.” The Vicar stood
with his hands on the table.
“Diary,” repeated Cuss, sitting down,
putting two volumes to support the third, and opening
it. “H’m—no name on the
fly-leaf. Bother!—cypher. And
figures.”
The vicar came round to look over his shoulder.
Cuss turned the pages over with a face suddenly disappointed.
“I’m—dear me! It’s
all cypher, Bunting.”
“There are no diagrams?” asked Mr. Bunting.
“No illustrations throwing light—”
“See for yourself,” said Mr. Cuss.
“Some of it’s mathematical and some of
it’s Russian or some such language (to judge
by the letters), and some of it’s Greek.
Now the Greek I thought you—”
“Of course,” said Mr. Bunting, taking
out and wiping his spectacles and feeling suddenly
very uncomfortable—for he had no Greek
left in his mind worth talking about; “yes—the
Greek, of course, may furnish a clue.”
“I’ll find you a place.”
“I’d rather glance through the volumes
first,” said Mr. Bunting, still wiping.
“A general impression first, Cuss, and then,
you know, we can go looking for clues.”
He coughed, put on his glasses, arranged them fastidiously,
coughed again, and wished something would happen to
avert the seemingly inevitable exposure. Then
he took the volume Cuss handed him in a leisurely
manner. And then something did happen.
The door opened suddenly.
Both gentlemen started violently, looked round, and
were relieved to see a sporadically rosy face beneath
a furry silk hat. “Tap?” asked the
face, and stood staring.
“No,” said both gentlemen at once.
“Over the other side, my man,” said Mr.
Bunting. And “Please shut that door,”
said Mr. Cuss, irritably.
“All right,” said the intruder, as it
seemed in a low voice curiously different from the
huskiness of its first inquiry. “Right
you are,” said the intruder in the former voice.
“Stand clear!” and he vanished and closed
the door.
