The Invisible Man paused and thought. Kemp glanced
nervously out of the window. “Yes?”
he said. “Go on.”
IN THE EMPORIUM
“So last January, with the beginning of a snowstorm
in the air about me—and if it settled on
me it would betray me!—weary, cold, painful,
inexpressibly wretched, and still but half convinced
of my invisible quality, I began this new life to which
I am committed. I had no refuge, no appliances,
no human being in the world in whom I could confide.
To have told my secret would have given me away—made
a mere show and rarity of me. Nevertheless, I
was half-minded to accost some passer-by and throw
myself upon his mercy. But I knew too clearly
the terror and brutal cruelty my advances would evoke.
I made no plans in the street. My sole object
was to get shelter from the snow, to get myself covered
and warm; then I might hope to plan. But even
to me, an Invisible Man, the rows of London houses
stood latched, barred, and bolted impregnably.
“Only one thing could I see clearly before me—the
cold exposure and misery of the snowstorm and the
night.
“And then I had a brilliant idea. I turned
down one of the roads leading from Gower Street to
Tottenham Court Road, and found myself outside Omniums,
the big establishment where everything is to be bought—you
know the place: meat, grocery, linen, furniture,
clothing, oil paintings even—a huge meandering
collection of shops rather than a shop. I had
thought I should find the doors open, but they were
closed, and as I stood in the wide entrance a carriage
stopped outside, and a man in uniform—you
know the kind of personage with ‘Omnium’
on his cap—flung open the door. I contrived
to enter, and walking down the shop—it was
a department where they were selling ribbons and gloves
and stockings and that kind of thing—came
to a more spacious region devoted to picnic baskets
and wicker furniture.
“I did not feel safe there, however; people
were going to and fro, and I prowled restlessly about
until I came upon a huge section in an upper floor
containing multitudes of bedsteads, and over these
I clambered, and found a resting-place at last among
a huge pile of folded flock mattresses. The place
was already lit up and agreeably warm, and I decided
to remain where I was, keeping a cautious eye on the
two or three sets of shopmen and customers who were
meandering through the place, until closing time came.
Then I should be able, I thought, to rob the place
for food and clothing, and disguised, prowl through
it and examine its resources, perhaps sleep on some
of the bedding. That seemed an acceptable plan.
My idea was to procure clothing to make myself a muffled
but acceptable figure, to get money, and then to recover
my books and parcels where they awaited me, take a
lodging somewhere and elaborate plans for the complete
realisation of the advantages my invisibility gave
me (as I still imagined) over my fellow-men.
