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 near 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 regarding Kemp.
“Because I’ve a particular objection to
being caught by my fellow-men,” he said slowly.
Kemp started.
“Fool that I am!” said the Invisible Man,
striking the table smartly. “I’ve
put the idea into your head.”
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?”
