He sat down abruptly on the surgical bench. “He’s
not only invisible,” he said, “but he’s
mad! Homicidal!”
When dawn came to mingle its pallor with the lamp-light
and cigar smoke of the dining-room, Kemp was still
pacing up and down, trying to grasp the incredible.
He was altogether too excited to sleep. His servants,
descending sleepily, discovered him, and were inclined
to think that over-study had worked this ill on him.
He gave them extraordinary but quite explicit instructions
to lay breakfast for two in the belvedere study—and
then to confine themselves to the basement and ground-floor.
Then he continued to pace the dining-room until the
morning’s paper came. That had much to say
and little to tell, beyond the confirmation of the
evening before, and a very badly written account of
another remarkable tale from Port Burdock. This
gave Kemp the essence of the happenings at the “Jolly
Cricketers,” and the name of Marvel. “He
has made me keep with him twenty-four hours,”
Marvel testified. Certain minor facts were added
to the Iping story, notably the cutting of the village
telegraph-wire. But there was nothing to throw
light on the connexion between the Invisible Man and
the Tramp; for Mr. Marvel had supplied no information
about the three books, or the money with which he was
lined. The incredulous tone had vanished and a
shoal of reporters and inquirers were already at work
elaborating the matter.
Kemp read every scrap of the report and sent his housemaid
out to get everyone of the morning papers she could.
These also he devoured.
“He is invisible!” he said. “And
it reads like rage growing to mania! The things
he may do! The things he may do! And he’s
upstairs free as the air. What on earth ought
I to do?”
“For instance, would it be a breach of faith
if—? No.”
He went to a little untidy desk in the corner, and
began a note. He tore this up half written, and
wrote another. He read it over and considered
it. Then he took an envelope and addressed it
to “Colonel Adye, Port Burdock.”
The Invisible Man awoke even as Kemp was doing this.
He awoke in an evil temper, and Kemp, alert for every
sound, heard his pattering feet rush suddenly across
the bedroom overhead. Then a chair was flung
over and the wash-hand stand tumbler smashed.
Kemp hurried upstairs and rapped eagerly.
CERTAIN FIRST PRINCIPLES
“What’s the matter?” asked Kemp,
when the Invisible Man admitted him.
“Nothing,” was the answer.
“But, confound it! The smash?”
“Fit of temper,” said the Invisible Man.
“Forgot this arm; and it’s sore.”
“You’re rather liable to that sort of
thing.”
“I am.”
Kemp walked across the room and picked up the fragments
of broken glass. “All the facts are out
about you,” said Kemp, standing up with the
glass in his hand; “all that happened in Iping,
and down the hill. The world has become aware
of its invisible citizen. But no one knows you
are here.”
