The Invisible Man Part 1

A very strange man begins scientific experiments.

Included in this episode:
Chapter 1 The Strange Man's Arrival
Chapter 2 Mr Teddy Henfrey's First Impressions
Chapter 3 The Thousand and One Bottles

Author: H.G. Wells

Contact the pod on: thesolobc@gmail.com 

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Welcome to Solo Book Club. Today we're going to start a new book. I've chosen The Invisible Man by HG Wells. Usually I like to stand here and at the start of a book kind of make a prediction on what the book's going to be about based on the title. This one's pretty easy. I predict is about a man who becomes invisible. And I think that even if you haven't read the book, even if you haven't seen the many film and TV show adaptations, you can kind of figure out what the book's about as well. So let's get stuck in first chapter of The Invisible Man. Chapter 1, The Strange Man's Arrival. The Stranger came early in February, one wintry day through a biting wind and a driving snow, the last snowfall of the year, over the down, walking from Bramblehurst railway station and carrying a little black portmanteau in his thickly gloved hand. He was wrapped up from head to foot, and the brim of his soft felt hat hid every inch of his face but the shiny tip of his nose. The snow had piled itself against his shoulders and chest and added a white crest to the burden he carried. He staggered into the coach and horses more dead than alive and flung his portmanteau down. A fire, he cried, in the name of human charity, a room and a fire. He stamped and shook the snow from off himself in the bar and followed Mrs. Hall into her guest parlour to strike his bargain. And with that much introduction, that and a couple of sovereigns flung upon the table, he took up his quarters in the inn. Mrs. Hall lit the fire and left him there while she went to prepare him a meal with her own hands. A guest to stop at Imping in the wintertime was an unheard-of piece of luck, let alone a guest who was no haggler, and she was resolved to show herself worthy of her good fortune. As soon as the bacon was well underway and Millie, her lymphaticade, had been brisked up a bit by a few deftly chosen expressions of contempt, she carried the cloth, plates and glasses into the parlour and began to lay them with the utmost eclat. It's a French word, I'm gonna look it up. Alright, so it's a French word pronounced eclat, and it basically means a brilliant display, or finish. So she laid the table with the utmost eclat. With a brilliant display. Although the fire was burning up briskly, she was surprised to see that her visitor still wore his hat and coat, standing with his back to her and staring out of the window at the falling snow in the yard. His gloved hands were clasped behind him, and he seemed to be lost in thought. She noticed that the melted snow that still sprinkled his shoulders dripped upon her carpet. May I take your hat and coat, sir? she said, and give them a good dry in the kitchen. No, he said without turning. It's a bit odd. She was not sure she had heard him and was about to repeat her question. He turned his head and looked at her over his shoulder. I prefer to keep them on, he said with emphasis, and she noticed that he wore big blue spectacles with side lights, and had a bushy side whisker over his coat collar that completely hid his cheeks and face. Very well, sir, she said, as you like. In a bit the room will be warmer. He made no answer and had turned his face away from her again, and Mrs. Hoare, feeling that her conversational advances were ill-timed, laid the rest of the table things in a quick staccato manner and whisked out of the room. When she returned, he was still standing there like a man of stone, his back hunched, his collar turned up, his dripping hat brim turned down, hiding his face and ears completely. She put down the eggs and bacon with considerable emphasis, and called rather than said to him, Your lunch is served, sir. Thank you, he said at the same time, and did not stir until she was closing the door. Then he swung round and approached the table. As she went behind the bar to the kitchen, she heard a sound repeated at regular intervals. Chuk, chuk, chuk, it went, the sound of a spoon being rapidly whisked round a basin. That girl, she thought, there, I clean forgot it. It's her being so long. And while she herself finished mixing the mustard, she gave Millie a few verbal stabs for her excessive slowness. She'd cooked the ham and eggs, lay the table, and done everything, while Millie, help indeed, had only succeeded in delaying the mustard. And him a new guest and wanting to stay. Then she filled the mustard pot and putting it with a certain stateliness upon a gold and black tea tray, carried it into the parlour. She rapped and entered promptly. As she did so, her visitor moved quickly so that she got but a glimpse of a white object disappearing behind the table. It would seem he was picking something from the floor. She wrapped down the mustard pot and the table and then noticed the overcoat and hat had been taken off and put over a chair in front of the fire. A pair of wet boots threatened Rust to her steel fender. She went to move things resolutely. I suppose I may have them to dry now, she said in a voice that brooked no denial. Leave the hat, said her visitor in a muffled voice, and turning she saw he had raised his head and was sitting looking at her. For a moment she stood gaping at him, too surprised to speak. He held a white cloth, it was a serviette he'd brought with him, over the lower part of his face so that his mouth and jaws were completely hidden. And that was the reason of his muffled voice. But it was not that which startled Mrs. Hall. It was a fact that all his forehead above his blue glasses was covered by a white bandage, and that another covered his ears, leaving not a scrap of his face exposed, excepting only his pink peaked nose. It was bright pink and shiny, just as it had been at first. He wore a dark brown velvet jacket with a high black linen lined collar turned up about his neck, the thick black hair escaping as it could below and between the cross bandages, projected in curious tails and horns, giving him the strangest appearance conceivable. This muffled and bandaged head was so unlike what she had anticipated that for a moment she was rigid. Maybe he's like a burn victim. Possibly. He did not remove the serviette but remained holding it, as she saw now, with a brown gloved hand and regarding her with his inscrutable blue glasses. Leave the hat, he said, speaking very distinctly through the white cloth. Her nerves began to recover from the shock they had received. She placed the hat on the chair again by the fire. I didn't know, sir, she began that and she stopped embarrassed. Thank you, he said dryly, glancing from her to the door and then at her again. I'll have them nicely dried, sir, at once, she said, and carried his clothes out of the room. She glanced at his white swathed head and blue goggles again as she was going out the door, but his napkin was still in front of his face. She shivered a little as she closed the door behind her, and her face was eloquent of her surprise and perplexity. I never, she whispered, there. She went quite softly to the kitchen, was too preoccupied to ask Millie what she was messing about with now when she got there. The visitor sat and listened to her retreating feet. He glanced inquiringly at the window before he removed his serviette and resumed his meal. He took a mouthful, glanced suspiciously at the window, took another mouthful, then rose, and taking the serviette in his hand, walked across the room and pulled the blind down to the top of the white muslin that obscured the lower panes. This left the room in twilight. This done he returned with an easier air to the table and his meal. The poor souls had an accident or an operation or something, said Mrs. Hall. What a turn them bandages did give me to be sure. She put on some more coal, unfolded the clothes horse, and extended the traveller's coat upon this. And they goggles why he looked more like a drivin' helmet than a human man. She hung his muffler on a corner of the horse, and holding that handkerchief over his mouth all the time talking through it. Perhaps his mouth was hurt too. Maybe. She turned round as one who suddenly remembers Bless my soul alive, she said, going off at a tangent. Aren't you done them taters yet, Millie? When Mrs. Hall went to clear away the stranger's lunch, her idea that his mouth must have also been cut or disfigured in the accident. She supposed him to have suffered was confirmed, for he was smoking a pipe, and all the time that she was in the room he never loosened the silk muffler he'd wrapped round the lower part of his face to put the mouthpiece to his lips. Yet it was not forgetfulness, for she saw he glanced at it as it smouldered out. He sat in the corner with his back to the window blind and spoke now, having eaten and drunk and been comfortably warmed through with less aggressive brevity than before. The reflection of the fire lent a kind of animation to his big spectacles they had lacked hitherto. I have some luggage, he said, at Bramblehurst station, and he asked her how he could have it sent. He bowed his bandaged head quite politely in acknowledgement of her explanation. Tomorrow, he said, there is no speedier delivery, and seemed quite disappointed when she answered no. Was she quite sure? No man with a trap would go over. Mrs. Hall, nothing loath, answered his questions and developed a conversation. It's a steep road by the town, sir, she said in answer to the question about a trap, and then, snatching at an opening, said, It was there a carriage was upsettled, a year ago and more, a gentleman killed, besides his coachman. Accidents, sir, happen in a moment, don't they? But the visitor was not to be drawn so easily. They do, he said, through his muffler, eyeing her quietly through his impenetrable glasses. But they take long enough to get well, sir, don't they? There was my sister's son, Tom. Just cut his arm with a scythe, tumbled on it in the A field, and bless me, he was three months tied up, sir, you'd hardly believe it. It's regular giving me a dread of a scythe, sir. I can quite understand that, said the visitor. He was afraid one time that he'd have to have an operation. He was that bad, sir. The visitor laughed abruptly, a bark of a laugh that he seemed to bite and kill in his mouth. Was he? he said. He was, sir, and no laughing mattered to them as he had the doing for him as I had, my sister being took up with her little ones so much. There was bandages to do, sir, and bandages to undo. So if I may make so bold as to say it, sir. Will you get me some matches? said the visitor, quite abruptly. My pipe is out. Mrs. Hall was pulled up suddenly. It was certainly rude of him, after telling him all she had done. She gasped at him for a moment and remembered the two sovereigns. She went for the matches. Thanks, he said concisely, as she put them down and turned his shoulder upon her, stared out of the window again. It was altogether too discouraging. Evidently he was sensitive on the topic of operations and bandages. She did not make so bold as to say after all. But his snubbing way had irritated her, and Millie had a hot time of it that afternoon. The visitor remained in the parlour until four o'clock, without giving the ghost of an excuse for an intrusion. For the most part he was quite still during that time. It would seem he sat in the growing darkness smoking the firelight, perhaps dozing. Once or twice a curious listener might have heard him at the coals, and for the space of five minutes he was audible pacing the room. He seemed to be talking to himself. Then the armchair creaked as he sat down again. Okay, so that's the end of chapter one and quite an interesting start to the story. So we've got this man come in heavily dressed. Of course it's snowing outside, it's freezing. He comes in, he wants dinner, he's wants a warm room. But then, as you normally do when you go inside after being outside where it's really cold, inside is usually really warm. So you take your hat off, you take your scarf off, you take your jumper off, your jacket off. But this guy hasn't, he's kept it all on. He's covered every single part of his skin that would show normally. And when the lady of the hotel or the bed and breakfast or whatever he's staying in returns to the room to give him his mustard, she sees he's covered in bandages. He's hiding his lips and his face. My theory is a Burns victim. And she seems to think he's had some kind of horrid operation or he's been hurt in some way. He's embarrassed to show his face. Let's keep reading and see what happens. Chapter 2. Mr Teddy Henfree's First Impressions. At four o'clock when it was fairly dark, and Mrs. Hall was screwing up her courage to go in and ask the visitor if he would take some tea, Teddy Henfrey, the clock jobber, came into the bar. A clock jobber? What on earth is that? Okay, so the clock jobber, as the name suggests, is someone who repairs clocks. So Teddy Henfrey, the clock guy. My sakes, Mrs. Hall, said he, but this is terrible weather for thin boots. The snow outside was falling faster. Mrs Hall agreed and then noticed he had his bag with him. Now you're here, Mr Teddy, said she, I'd be glad if you'd give the old clock in the parlour a bit of a look. 'Tis going and it strikes well and hardy, but the hour hand won't do nothing but point at six. It's not very good of a clock, is it? And leading the way she went across to the parlour door and rapped and entered. Her visitor, she saw as she opened the door, was seated in the armchair before the fire, dozing it would seem, with his bandaged head drooping to one side. The only light in the room was the red glow from the fire, which lit his eyes like adverse railway signals, but left his downcast face in darkness, and the scanty vestiges of the day that came in through the open door. Everything was ruddy, shadowy, and indistinct to her, the more so since she had just been lighting the bar lamp and her eyes were dazzled. But for a moment it seemed to her that the man she looked at had an enormous mouth wide open. A vast and incredible mouth that swallowed the whole of the lower portion of his face. It was the sensation of a moment, the white bound head, the monstrous goggle eyes, and this huge yawn below it. Then he stirred, started up in his chair, put up his hand. She opened the door wide so that the room was lighter, and she saw him more clearly, and the muffler held to his face just as she had seen him hold the serviette before. The shadows she fancied had tricked her. Had they, though? Had they? Would you mind, sir, this man a coming to look at the clock, sir? she said, recovering from her momentary shock. Look at the clock, he said, staring round in a drowsy manner and speaking over his hand, and then getting more fully awake. Certainly. Mrs Hall went away to get a lamp, and he rose and stretched himself. Then came the light, and Mr Teddy Henfrey, entering, was confronted by this bandaged person. He was, he says, taken aback. Good afternoon, said the stranger, regarding him as Mr Henfrey says, with a vivid sense of the dark spectacles, like a lobster. I hope, said Mr Henfrey, that it's no intrusion. None whatever, said the stranger. Though I understand, he said, turning to Mrs. Hall, that this room is really to be mine for my own private use. I thought so, sir, said Mrs. Hall. You'd prefer the clock she was going to say, mended. Certainly, said the stranger. Cer certainly, but as a rule I like to be alone and undisturbed. But I'm really glad to have the clock seen too, he said, seeing a certain hesitation in Mr Hrey's manner. Very glad. Mr Hrey had intended to apologise and withdraw, but this anticipation reassured him. The stranger stood round with his back to the fireplace and put his hands round his back, and presently he said, When the clock mending is over, I think I would like to have some tea. But not till the clock mending is over. Mrs. Hall was about to leave the room. She made no conversational advances this time because she did not want to be snubbed in front of Mr Henfree. When her visitor asked her if she had made any arrangements about his boxes at Bramblehurst, she told him she'd mentioned the matter to the postman that the carrier would bring them over on the morrow. You are certain that is the earliest, he said. She was certain with a marked coldness. I should explain, he added, what I was really too cold and fatigued to do before, that I am an experimental investigator. Indeed, sir, said Mrs. Hall, much impressed, and my baggage contains apparatus and appliances. Very useful things indeed they are, sir, said Mrs. Hall, and I'm naturally anxious to get on with my inquiries. Of course, sir. My reason for coming to Ipping, he proceeded with a certain deliberation of manner, was a desire for solitude. I do not wish to be disturbed in my work. In addition to my work, an accident, I thought as much, said Mrs. Hall to herself, necessitates a certain retirement. My eyes are sometimes so weak and painful that I have to shut myself up in the dark for hours together. Lock myself up, sometimes, now and then, not at present, certainly. At times the slightest disturbance, the entry of a stranger into the room, is a source of excruciating annoyance to me. It is well these things should be understood. Certainly, sir, said Mrs. Hall, and if I may make so bold as to ask, that I think is all, said the stranger, with that quietly irresistible air of finality he could assume at will. Mrs. Hall reserved her question and sympathy for a better occasion. After Mrs Hall had left the room, he remained standing in front of the fire, glaring, so Mr Henfrey puts it at the clock mending. Mr Henfrey not only took off the hands of the clock in the face, but extracted the works, and he tried to work in as slow and quiet and unassuming a manner as possible. He worked with a lamp close to him and the green shade through a brilliant light upon his hands, and upon the frame and wheels, and left the rest of the room shadowy. When he looked up, coloured patches swam in his eyes. Being constitutionally of a curious manner, he had removed the works, a quite unnecessary proceeding, with the idea of delaying his departure, perhaps falling into conversation with a stranger. But the stranger stood there, perfectly silent and still. So still it got on Henfrey's nerves. He left alone in the room and looked up, and there, grey and dim, was the bandaged head and huge blue lenses staring fixedly, with a mist of green spots drifting in front of them. It was so uncanny looking to Henfrey that for a minute they remained staring blankly at one another. Then Henfrey looked down again, a very uncomfortable position. One will like to say something. Should he remark about the weather? Should he remark that the weather was very cold for the time of year? He looked up as if to take aim with that introductory shot. The weather, he began, why don't you finish and go? said the rigid figure, evidently in a state of painfully suppressed rage. All you've got to do is fix the hour hand on its axle. You're simply humbugging. Certainly, sir, one minute, sir, I overlooked, and Mr Henfrey finished and went. But he went off feeling excessively annoyed. Damn it, said Mr Henfrey to himself, trudging down the village through the thawing snow. A man must do a clock at times, surely. And again, can't a man look at you? Ugly. And yet again, seemingly not. If the police was wanting you you couldn't be more rocked and bandaged. At Gleason's corner he saw Hall, who had recently married the stranger's hostess at the coach and horses, and who now drove the Ipping conveyance when occasional people required it to Cedarbridge Junction, coming towards him on his return from that place. Hall had evidently been stopping a bit at Cedarbridge to judge by his driving. Ow do, Teddy, he said, passing. You've got a rum on up home, said Teddy. Hall very socially pulled up. What's that? he asked. Rum looking customer stopping at the coach and horses, said Teddy. My sakes. And he proceeded to give Hall a vivid description of his grotesque guest. Looks a bit like our disguise, don't it? I like to see a man's face if I had him stopping in my place, said Henry. But women are that trustful, where strangers are concerned. He's took your rooms and he ain't even given a name, Hall. You don't say so, said Hall, who was a man of sluggish apprehension. Yes, said Teddy, by the week. Whatever he is, you can't get rid of him under the week, and he's got a lot of luggage coming tomorrow, so he says. Let's hope it won't be stones in boxes, Hall. He told Hall how his aunt at Hastings had been swindled by a stranger with empty portmanteau. Altogether he left Hall vaguely suspicious. Get up, old girl, said Hall. I suppose I must see about this. Teddy trudged on his way with his mind considerably relieved. Instead of seeing Balcett, however, Hall on his return was severely rated by his wife on the length of time he had spent in Cidderbridge, and his mild inquiries were answered snappishly and in a manner not to the point. But the seed of suspicion Teddy had sown germinated in the mind of Mr Hall in spite of these discouragements. You whim don't know everything, said Mr. Hall, resolved to ascertain more about the personality of his guest at the earliest possible opportunity. And after the stranger had gone to bed, which he did about half past nine, Mr. Hall went aggressively into the parlour and looked very hard at his wife's furniture, just to show that the stranger wasn't master there, and scrutinised closely and a little contemptuously a sheet of mathematical computations the stranger had left. When retiring for the night, he instructed Mrs. Hall to look very closely at the stranger's luggage when it came next day. You mind your own business, Hall, said Mrs. Hall, and I'll mind mine. She was all the more inclined to snap at Hall because the stranger was undoubtedly an unusually strange sort of stranger, and she was by no means so short about him in her own mind. In the middle of the night she woke up dreaming of huge white heads like turnips that came trailing after her at the end of interminable necks and with vast black eyes. But being a sensible woman, she subdued her terrors and turned over and went to sleep again. That's an interesting second chapter. I mean, what's really happened? Nothing. The clock guy has come to check a clock. He's in a room that the guest, the bandaged guest, thought he could have some privacy, and then Mrs. Hall is not respecting that at all. The clock guy is going around, I don't know, saying all these bad things about the bandaged man, the bandaged guest when he doesn't he knows absolutely nothing about him. And now there's just suspicion. I guess that's interesting that there's suspicion about someone who you can't see his face because he's covered up. But there could be a reason for that. There could be, you know, he's disfigured, whatever it is. Interesting that all these people are making assumptions about him and being annoyed at the fact that they're having to make assumptions. Chapter 3. The Thousand and One Bottles. So it was that on the 9th of February, at the beginning of the Thor, this singular person fell out of infinity into Ipping Village. Next day's luggage arrived through the slush, and very remarkable luggage it was. There were a couple of trunks indeed, such as a rational man might need, but in addition there were a box of books, big, fat books, of which some were just in an incomprehensible handwriting, and a dozen or more crates, boxes and cases containing objects packed in straw, as it seemed to Hall, tugging with a casual curiosity at the straw. Glass bottles. The stranger, muffled in hat, coat, gloves, and wrapper, came out impatiently to meet Farnside's cart, while Hall was having a good word or so of gossip preparatory to help him bring them in. Out he came not noticing Ferrinside's dog, who was sniffing in a dilatant spirit at Hall's legs. Come along with the boxes, he said, I've been waiting long enough. And he came down the steps towards the tail of the cart as if to lay hands on the smaller crate. No sooner had Fernside's dog caught sight of him, however, than it began to bristle and growl savagely, and when he rushed down the steps to give an undecided hop, and then sprung straight at his hand, whoop cried Hall, jumping back, for he was no hero with dogs, and Farnsite howled, Lie down and snatched his whip. They saw the dog's teeth had slipped the hand and heard a kick, saw the dog execute a flanking jump and got home on the stranger's leg and heard the rip of his trousering. Then the finer end of Farransign's whip reached his property, and the dog, yelping with dismay, retreated under the wheels of the wagon. It was all the business of a half minute. No one spoke, everyone shouted. The stranger glanced swiftly at his torn glove and at his leg, made as if he would stoop to the latter, then turned and rushed up the steps into the inn. They heard him go headlong across the passage and up the uncarpeted stairs to his bedroom. You brute you, said Farnside, climbing off the wagon with his whip in his hand while the dog watched him through the wheel. Come here, said Farnside, you better. Hall had stood gaping. He was bit, said Hall. I'd better go and see to him. He trotted after the stranger. He met Mrs. Hall in the passage. Carrier's dog, he said. Bitten. Oh, these guys have very interesting accent. But we'll get through it. He went straight upstairs, and the stranger's doors being ajar, he pushed it open and was entering without any ceremony, being of a naturally sympathetic turn of mind. The blind was down and the room dim. He caught a glimpse of a most singular thing. What seemed a handless arm waving towards him, and a face of three huge, indeterminate spots on white, very like the face of a pale pansy. Then he was struck violently in the chest, hurled back and the door slammed in his face and locked all so rapidly they had no time to observe. A wave of indecipherable shapes, a blow and a concussion. There he stood on the dark little landing, wondering what it might be that he had seen. And what indeed he'd seen a handless arm. I mean, I I'm assuming we all know that the bandage guys is he must be the invisible man. That would account for not having a mouth, not having a hand. Let's read on and see what happens. After a couple minutes he rejoined the little group that had formed outside the coach and horses. There was Farrenside, telling about it all over again for the second time. There was Mrs. Hall saying his dog didn't have no business to bite her guests. There was Huckster, the general dealer from over the road interrogative, and Sandy Waggers from the forge, judicial, besides women and children, all of them saying fatuities. Wouldn't let em bite me, I knows. 'Tasn't right to have such dogs. What are ye biting for then? And so forth. Mr Hall, staring at them from the steps and listening, found it incredible that he had seen anything very remarkable happen upstairs. Besides his vocabulary was altogether too limited for his impressions. He didn't want no help, he says, he said in answer to his wife inquiry. We'd better be a taken off his luggage in. He ought to have it quarterised at once, said Mr Huckster, especially if he's at all inflamed. I'd shoot in. That's what I'd do, said a lady in the group. Suddenly the dog began growling again. Come along, cried an angry voice in the doorway, and there stood the muffled stranger with his coat turned up and his hat brim bent down. The sooner you get those things in the better I'll be pleased. It is stated by an anonymous bystander that his trousers and gloves had been changed. Was you hurt, sir? said Fairnside. I'm rare sorry the dog not a bit, said the stranger. Never broke the skin. Hurry up with those things. He then swore to himself, so Mr Hall asserts. Directly the first crate was carried into the parlour, in accordance with his directions. The stranger flung himself upon it with extraordinary eagerness and began to unpack it, scattering the straw with utter disregard of Mrs. Hall's carpet, and from it he began to produce bottles, little fat bottles containing powders, small and slender bottles containing coloured and white fluids, fluted blue bottles labelled poison, bottles with round bodies and slender necks, large green glass bottles, large white glass bottles, bottles with glass stoppers and frosted labels, bottles with fine corks, bottles with bungs, bottles with wooden caps, wine bottles, salad oil bottles, putting them in rows on the chiffon air. On the mantle, on the table under the window, round the floor, on the bookshelf, everywhere. The chemist shop in Bramblehurst could not boast half so many. Quite a sight it was. Crate after crate yielded bottles until all six were empty and the table high with straw. The only things that came out of these crates besides the bottles were a number of test tubes and a carefully packed balance. And directly the crates were unpacked, the stranger went to the window and set to work, not troubling in the least about the litter of straw, the fire which had gone out, the box of books outside, nor for the trunks and other luggage that had gone upstairs. When Mrs. Hall took his dinner into him, he was already so absorbed in his work, pouring little drops out of the bottles into test tubes that he did not hear her until she had swept away the bulk of the straw and put the tray on the table, with some little emphasis perhaps seeing the state that the floor was in. Then he half turned his head and immediately turned it away again, but she saw he had removed his glasses. They were beside him on the table, and it seemed to her that his eye sockets were extraordinarily hollow. He put on his spectacles again and then turned and faced her. She was about to complain of the straw on the floor when he anticipated her. I wish you wouldn't come in without knocking, he said, in the tone of abnormal exasperation that seemed so characteristic of him. I knocked, but seemingly, perhaps you did, but in my investigations, my really very urgent and necessary investigations, the slightest disturbance, the jar of a door, I must ask you. Certainly, sir, you can turn the lock if you're like that, you know, any time. A very good idea, said the stranger. This straw, sir, if I may make so bold as to remark, don't. If the straw makes trouble, put it down in the bill, and he mumbled at her, words suspiciously like curses. He was so odd standing there, so aggressive and explosive, bottle in one hand and test tube in the other, that Mrs. Hall was quite alarmed. But she was a resolute woman, in which case I should like to know, sir, what you consider a shilling, put down a shilling, suddenly a sh surely a shilling's enough. So be it, said Mrs. Hall, taking up the tablecloth and beginning to spread it over the table. If you're satisfied, of course. He turned and sat down with his coat collar towards her. All the afternoon he worked with the door locked, and as Mrs. Hall testifies, for the most part in silence. But once there was a concussion and a sound of bottles ringing together as though the table had been hit, and the smash of a bottle flung violently down, and then a rapid pacing athwart the room. Fearing something was the matter, she went to the door and listened, not caring to knock. I can't go on, he was raving. I can't go on! Three hundred thousand, four hundred thousand, the huge multitude cheated, all my life it may take me. Patience, patience indeed, fool and liar. There was much noise of hobnails on the bricks in the bar, and Mrs. Hall very reluctantly had to leave the rest of his soliloquy. When she returned, the room was silent again, save for the faint crepitation of his chair and the occasional clink of a bottle. It was all over. The stranger had resumed work. When she took in his tea, she saw a broken glass in the corner of the room, under the concave mirror and a golden stain that had been carelessly wiped. She called attention to it. Put it down in the bill, he snapped at her. For God's sake, don't worry me. If there's damage done, put it down in the bill. And he went on ticking a list in the exercise book before him. I'll tell you something, said Ferrandside mysteriously. It was late in the afternoon and they were in the little beer shop of Ippinghanger. Well, said Teddy Fenry. This chap you're speaking of, what my dog bit. Well, he's black. Least ways his legs are. I'd see through the tear of his trousers and the tear of his glove. You'd have expected a sort of pinky to show, wouldn't you? Well, there wasn't none. Just blackness, I tell you. He's as black as my hat. My sake, said Henfrey, it's a rummy case altogether. Why his nose is as pink as paint. That's true, said Fairnside, I knows that, and I tell you what I'm thinking. The man's a pie board, Betty. Black here and white there in patches, and he's ashamed of it. He's a kind of half breed, and the colours come off patch instead of mixing. I've heard of such things before, and it's the common way with horses, as anyone can see. Um okay, well first off, uh I think we have to remember that when this book was written, The Invisible Man, which was written in 1897, obviously we probably wouldn't even suggest about someone's skin colour these days, but things were different back in 1897. And um yes, so just calling attention to that comments made in this book do not reflect modern sensibilities. That's a really in that that was a really interesting chapter because I'm getting a lot of parallels with Dr. Jekyll. He's in his lab, he's trying, he's playing with his concoction, with his bottles, with his potions, and he's trying to figure out a way to a create Mr. Hyde and then two get rid of Mr. Hyde. And I wonder if this guest is doing something similar. Maybe he's already invisible, which explains why he's all covered up and why every time someone sees him, they see through him. Obviously, that's what invisible means. But maybe he's trying to come up with a concoction, like maybe his situation was the same as Dr. Jekyll's. He created a concoction to make it invisible, but he never thought to create one to make him visible, not invisible. Um, before he took the invisible concoction, now he's got to create the visible concoction and he's having trouble doing it. Would explain the potions? Would explain his crankiness and grumpiness at everyone? I guess we'll find out what happens later in the book. We might leave it there for today and we'll get started on chapter four next week. Catch you then.