And then things happened very swiftly. Kemp hesitated
for a second and then moved to intercept him.
The Invisible Man started and stood still. “Traitor!”
cried the Voice, and suddenly the dressing-gown opened,
and sitting down the Unseen began to disrobe.
Kemp made three swift steps to the door, and forthwith
the Invisible Man—his legs had vanished—sprang
to his feet with a shout. Kemp flung the door
open.
As it opened, there came a sound of hurrying feet
downstairs and voices.
With a quick movement Kemp thrust the Invisible Man
back, sprang aside, and slammed the door. The
key was outside and ready. In another moment
Griffin would have been alone in the belvedere study,
a prisoner. Save for one little thing. The
key had been slipped in hastily that morning.
As Kemp slammed the door it fell noisily upon the
carpet.
Kemp’s face became white. He tried to grip
the door handle with both hands. For a moment
he stood lugging. Then the door gave six inches.
But he got it closed again. The second time it
was jerked a foot wide, and the dressing-gown came
wedging itself into the opening. His throat was
gripped by invisible fingers, and he left his hold
on the handle to defend himself. He was forced
back, tripped and pitched heavily into the corner
of the landing. The empty dressing-gown was flung
on the top of him.
Halfway up the staircase was Colonel Adye, the recipient
of Kemp’s letter, the chief of the Burdock police.
He was staring aghast at the sudden appearance of
Kemp, followed by the extraordinary sight of clothing
tossing empty in the air. He saw Kemp felled,
and struggling to his feet. He saw him rush forward,
and go down again, felled like an ox.
Then suddenly he was struck violently. By nothing!
A vast weight, it seemed, leapt upon him, and he was
hurled headlong down the staircase, with a grip on
his throat and a knee in his groin. An invisible
foot trod on his back, a ghostly patter passed downstairs,
he heard the two police officers in the hall shout
and run, and the front door of the house slammed violently.
He rolled over and sat up staring. He saw, staggering
down the staircase, Kemp, dusty and disheveled, one
side of his face white from a blow, his lip bleeding,
and a pink dressing-gown and some underclothing held
in his arms.
“My God!” cried Kemp, “the game’s
up! He’s gone!”
THE HUNTING OF THE INVISIBLE MAN
For a space Kemp was too inarticulate to make Adye
understand the swift things that had just happened.
They stood on the landing, Kemp speaking swiftly,
the grotesque swathings of Griffin still on his arm.
But presently Adye began to grasp something of the
situation.
“He is mad,” said Kemp; “inhuman.
He is pure selfishness. He thinks of nothing
but his own advantage, his own safety. I have
listened to such a story this morning of brutal self-seeking....
He has wounded men. He will kill them unless
we can prevent him. He will create a panic.
Nothing can stop him. He is going out now—furious!”
