The axe receded into the passage, and fell to a position
about two feet from the ground. They could hear
the Invisible Man breathing. “Stand away,
you two,” he said. “I want that man
Kemp.”
“We want you,” said the first policeman,
making a quick step forward and wiping with his poker
at the Voice. The Invisible Man must have started
back, and he blundered into the umbrella stand.
Then, as the policeman staggered with the swing of
the blow he had aimed, the Invisible Man countered
with the axe, the helmet crumpled like paper, and
the blow sent the man spinning to the floor at the
head of the kitchen stairs. But the second policeman,
aiming behind the axe with his poker, hit something
soft that snapped. There was a sharp exclamation
of pain and then the axe fell to the ground. The
policeman wiped again at vacancy and hit nothing; he
put his foot on the axe, and struck again. Then
he stood, poker clubbed, listening intent for the
slightest movement.
He heard the dining-room window open, and a quick
rush of feet within. His companion rolled over
and sat up, with the blood running down between his
eye and ear. “Where is he?” asked
the man on the floor.
“Don’t know. I’ve hit him.
He’s standing somewhere in the hall. Unless
he’s slipped past you. Doctor Kemp—sir.”
Pause.
“Doctor Kemp,” cried the policeman again.
The second policeman began struggling to his feet.
He stood up. Suddenly the faint pad of bare feet
on the kitchen stairs could be heard. “Yap!”
cried the first policeman, and incontinently flung
his poker. It smashed a little gas bracket.
He made as if he would pursue the Invisible Man downstairs.
Then he thought better of it and stepped into the
dining-room.
“Doctor Kemp—” he began, and
stopped short.
“Doctor Kemp’s a hero,” he said,
as his companion looked over his shoulder.
The dining-room window was wide open, and neither
housemaid nor Kemp was to be seen.
The second policeman’s opinion of Kemp was terse
and vivid.
THE HUNTER HUNTED
Mr. Heelas, Mr. Kemp’s nearest neighbour among
the villa holders, was asleep in his summer house
when the siege of Kemp’s house began. Mr.
Heelas was one of the sturdy minority who refused to
believe “in all this nonsense” about an
Invisible Man. His wife, however, as he was subsequently
to be reminded, did. He insisted upon walking
about his garden just as if nothing was the matter,
and he went to sleep in the afternoon in accordance
with the custom of years. He slept through the
smashing of the windows, and then woke up suddenly
with a curious persuasion of something wrong.
He looked across at Kemp’s house, rubbed his
eyes and looked again. Then he put his feet to
the ground, and sat listening. He said he was
damned, but still the strange thing was visible.
The house looked as though it had been deserted for
weeks—after a violent riot. Every
window was broken, and every window, save those of
the belvedere study, was blinded by the internal shutters.
