The Invisible Man Part 6

The Invisible Man has finally found a friend.

Included in this episode:
Chapter 17 Doctor Kemp's Visitor
Chapter 18 The Invisible Man Sleeps

Author: H.G. Wells

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Transcript

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Welcome to Solo Book Club. Today we're reading The Invisible Man by HG Wells. This is part six. We're up to chapter 17. If you wish to follow along with the first 16 chapters, I suggest heading back to part one and working your way through. It's a pretty crazy story. I mean, there's some parts where kind of like not a whole lot happens, like it's kind of setting it up, but then you get to the bits where stuff does happen. And it's pretty crazy and full and very quick. Like things move quick in the invisible man. So what happened last time? Right, so the invisible man and Mr. Marvel have left Ipping. The Invisible Man is stealing money from other villagers and putting that money in Mr. Marvel's pockets. Mr. Marvel obviously doesn't want to be held hostage by the Invisible Man anymore. Um, Invisible Man, he's not really a nice guy. Like he's got a bad temper, he likes to threaten people and yell at people and punch people. Anyway, so Mr. Marvel evidently makes a run for it and he's absolutely terrified about the invisible man coming after him because obviously he can't see him. Anyway, he he enters this pub, the jolly cricketers, and the people in there try to help him. They grab the invisible man, one guy thinks he shot him, and that's where we left off. So let's pick back up and see what happened. Chapter 17 Dr. Kemp's Visitor Dr. Kemp had continued writing in his study until the shots aroused him. Crack crack crack they came one after the other. Hello, said Dr. Kemp, putting his pen into his mouth again and listening. Who's letting off revolvers in Burdock? What are the asses at now? He went to the south window, threw it up, and leaning out stared down on the network of the windows. Beaded gas lamps and shops with black interstices of roof and yard that made up the town at night. Looks like a crowd down the hill, he said, by the cricketers, and remained watching. Thence his eyes wandered over the town to far away where the ship's lights shone, and the pier glowed, a little illuminated pavilion like a gem of yellow light. The moon in its first quarter hung over the western hill, and the stars were clear and almost tropically bright. After five minutes, during which his mind had travelled into a remote speculation of social conditions of the future, and lost itself at last over the time dimension, Dr. Kemp roused himself with a sigh, pulled down the window again and returned to his writing desk. It must have been about an hour after this that the front doorbell rang. He had been writing slackly and with intervals of obstruction since the shots. He sat listening. He heard the servant answer the door and waited for her feet on the staircase, but she did not come. Wonder what that was, said Dr. Kemp. Tried to resume his work, failed, got up, went downstairs from his study to the landing, rang, and called over the balustrade to the housemaid as she entered in the hall below. Was that a letter? he asked. Only a runaway ring, sir, she answered. I'm restless tonight, he said to himself. He went back to his study and this time attacked his work resolutely. In a little while he was hard at work again, and the only sounds in the room were the ticking of the clock and the subdued shrillness of his quill, hurrying in the very centre of the circle of light his lampshade threw on his table. It was two o'clock before Dr. Kemp had finished his work for the night. He rose, yawned, and went downstairs to bed. He had already removed his coat and vest when he noticed that he was thirsty. Took a candle and went down to the dining room in search of a siffin and whiskey. Dr. Kemp's scientific pursuits had made him a very observant man, and as he recrossed the hall, he noticed a dark spot in the linoleum near the mat at the foot of the stairs. He went on upstairs and then it suddenly occurred to him to ask himself what the spot in the linoleum might be. Apparently some subconscious element was at work. At any rate, he turned with his burden, went back to the hall, put down the siphon and whiskey, and bending down touched the spot. Without any great surprise, he found it had the stickiness and colour of drying blood. He took up his burden again and returned upstairs, looking about him and trying to acquire for the blood spot. On the landing he saw something and stopped, astonished. The door handle of his own room was blood stained. He looked at his own hand, it was quite clean. Then he remembered that the door of his room had been open when he came down from his study, and that consequently he had not touched the handle at all. He went straight into his room, his face quite calm, perhaps a trifle more resolute than usual. His glance, wandering instinctively, fell on the bed. On the counterpane was a mess of blood and the sheet had been torn. He had not noticed this before because he had walked straight to the dressing table. On the further side, the bedclothes were depressed as if someone had been recently sitting there. Then he had an odd impression that he had heard a low voice say, Good heavens, Kemp. But Dr. Kemp was no believer in voices. He stood staring at the tumbled sheets. Was that really a voice? He looked about again but noticed nothing further than the disordered and bloodstained bed. Then he distinctly heard a movement across the room, near the wash handstand. All men, however highly educated, retained some superstitious inklings. The feeling that is called eerie came upon him. He closed the door of the room, came forward to the dressing table and put down his burdens. Suddenly with a start he perceived a coiled and bloodstained bandage of linen rag hanging in mid-air between him and the wash hand stand. He stared at this in amazement. It was an empty bandage, a bandage properly tied but quite empty. He would have advanced to grasp it, but a touch arrested him and a voice speaking quite close to him. Kemp, said the voice. Eh? said Kemp with his mouth open. Keep your nerve, said the voice. I'm an invisible man. Kemp made no answer for a space, simply stared at the bandage. Invisible man, he said. I'm an invisible man, repeated the voice. The story he had been active to ridicule only that morning rushed through Kemp's brain. He doesn't appear to have been either very much frightened or very greatly surprised at the moment. Realization came later. Thought it was all a lie, he said. The thought uppermost in his mind was the reiterated arguments of the morning. Have you a bandage on? he asked. Yes, said the invisible man. Oh, said Kemp, and then roused himself. I say, he said, but this is nonsense, it's some trick. He stepped forward suddenly, and his hand extended toward the bandage met invisible fingers. He recoiled at the touch and his colour changed. Keep steady, Kemp, for God's sake. I want help badly. Stop. The hand gripped his arm. He struck at it. Kemp cried the voice, Kemp, keep steady, and the grip tightened. A frantic desire to free himself took possession of Kemp. The hand of the bandaged arm gripped his shoulder, and he was suddenly tripped and flung backwards upon the bed. He opened his mouth to shout, and the corner of the sheet was thrust between his teeth. The invisible man had him down grimly, but his arms were free, and he struck and tried to kick savagely. Good God, the invisible man, like honestly, he needs to just start going about things a little bit more calmly, and just stop like restraining people. Listen to reason, will you? said the invisible man, sticking to him in spite of a pounding in the ribs. By heaven, you'll madden me in a minute. Lie still, you fool, bawled the invisible man in Kemp's ear. Kemp struggled for another moment and then lay still. If you shout, I'll smash your face, said the invisible man, relieving his mouth. Okay, honestly. These threats I mean just if you want someone to help you, don't threaten them. I'm an invisible man. It's no foolishness and no magic. I really am an invisible man, and I want your help. I don't want to hurt you, but if you behave like a frantic rustic, I must. Don't you remember me, Kemp? Griffin of University College. Aha. Now we have a name for the invisible man. Let me get up, said Kemp. I'll stop where I am and let me sit quiet for a minute. He sat up and felt his neck. I am Griffin of University College, and I've made myself invisible. I am just an ordinary man, a man who I've known, made invisible. Griffin? said Kemp. Griffin, answered the voice, a younger student than you were, almost an albino, six feet high and broad, with a pink and white face and red eyes, who won the medal for chemistry. And now we have a description of the invisible man. I mean it took Wells long enough, we're like halfway through. And also a different description to what I imagine the invisible man to look like, should he be visible? If that makes sense. I imagine him shorter as well. Anyway. I'm confused, said Kemp. My brain is writing. What is this to do with Griffin? I am Griffin, Kemp thought. It's horrible, he said. But what devilry must happen to make a man invisible? It's no devilry. It's a process sane and intelligible enough. It's horrible, said Kemp. How on earth it's horrible enough, but I'm wounded and in pain and tired. Great God, Kemp, you are a man. Take it steady. Give me some food and drink and let me sit down here. Kemp stared at the bandage as it moved across the room, and then saw a basket chair dragged across the floor and come to rest near the bed. It creaked, and the seat was depressed a quarter of an inch or so. He rubbed his eyes and felt his neck again. This beats ghosts, he said, and laughed stupidly. That's better, thank heaven, you're getting sensible. Or silly, said Kemp, and knuckled his eyes. Give me some whiskey, I'm near dead. It didn't feel so. Where are you? If I get up shall I run into you? There, all right, whiskey here. Where shall I give it to you? The chair creaked, and Kemp felt the glass drawn away from him. He let go by an effort. His instinct was all against it. Of course it would be. Like you would feel something pulling the glass, but your brain would go no, my eyes are telling me if I let go it's going to drop. It came to rest poised twenty inches above the front edge of the seat of the chair. He stared at it in infinite perplexity. This is this must be hypnotism. You must have suggested you were invisible. Nonsense, said the voice. It's frantic. Listen to me. I demonstrated conclusively this morning, began Kemp, that invisibility never mind what you demonstrated. I'm starving, said the voice. And the night is chilly to a man without clothes. Food, said Kemp. Tumblr of whiskey tilted itself. Yes, said the invisible man, wrapping it down. Have you got a dressing gown? Kemp made some exclamation in an undertone. He walked to a wardrobe and produced a robe of dingy scarlet. This do, he asked. It was taken from him. It hung limp for a moment in midair, fluttered weirdly, stood still and decorious buttoning itself and sat down in his chair. Drawers, socks, slippers would be a comfort, said the unseen curtly. And food. Anything but this is the insanest thing I ever was in in my life. He turned out his drawers for the articles, and then went downstairs to ransack his larder. He came back with some cold cutlets and bread, pulled up a light table and placed them before his guest. Never mind knives, said his visitor, and a cutlet hung in midair with a sound of gnawing. Invisible, said Kemp, sat down on a bedroom chair. Always like to get something about me before I eat, said the invisible man, with a full mouth eating greedily. Queer fancy. I suppose that wrist is all right, said Kemp. Trust me, said the invisible man. Of all the strange and wonderful. Exactly, but it's odd I should blunder into your house to get my bandaging. My first stroke of luck. Anyhow, I meant to sleep in this house tonight. You must stand that. It's a filthy nuisance, my blood showing, isn't it? Quite a clot over there. Gets visible as it coagulates, I see. I've been in the house three hours. But how's it done? began Kemp in a tone of exasperation. Confound it. The whole business, it's unreasonable from beginning to end. Quite reasonable, said the invisible man. Perfectly reasonable. He reached over and secured the whiskey bottle. Kemp stared at the devouring dressing gown. A ray of candlelight penetrating a torn patch in the right shoulder made a triangle of light under the left ribs. What were the shots? he asked. How did the shooting begin? It was a fool of a man, a sort of confederate of mine, curse him. Tried to steal my money. Has done so. Is he invisible too? No. Well? Can't I have some more to eat before I tell you all that? I'm hungry, in pain. You want me to tell stories? Kemp got up. You didn't do any shooting? he asked. Not me, said his visitor. Some fool I'd never seen fired at random. A lot of them got scared. They all got scared at me. Curse them. I say, I want more to eat than this, Kemp. I'll see what there is more to eat downstairs than Kemp. Not much, I'm afraid. After he had done eating and he made a heavy meal, the invisible man demanded a cigar. Bloody hell. This invisible man or griffin, I suppose, very demanding for a guest in a friend's house. He bit the end savagely before Kemp could find a knife and cursed when the outer leaf loosened. It was strange to see him smoking. His mouth and throat, pharynx and nails became visible as a sort of whirling smoke cast. This blessed gift of smoking, he said and puffed vigorously. I mean obviously not advised to just kind of smoke these days. And kind of like really gross. I'm looking to have fallen upon you, Kemp. You must help me. Fancy tumbling on you just now. I'm in a devilish scrape. I'd be mad, I think. The things I've been through. But we will do things yet, let me tell you. He helped himself to more whiskey and soda. Kemp got up, looked about him, and fetched himself a glass from his spare room. It's wild, but I suppose I may drink. You haven't changed much, Kemp, these dozen years. You fair men don't. Cool and methodical after the first collapse. I must tell you, we will work together. But how was it all done? said Kemp. And how did you get like this? For God's sake, let me smoke in peace for a little while, and then I will begin to tell you. Honestly, I'm not a fan of this invisible man. But the story was not told that night. The invisible man's wrist was growing painful, he was feverish, exhausted, and his mind came round to brood upon his chase down the hill and the struggle about the inn. He spoke in fragments of marvel. He smoked faster, his voice grew angry. Kemp tried to gather what he could. He was afraid of me, I could see he was afraid of me, said the invisible man many times over. He meant to give me the slip. He was always casting about what a fool I was. The cur. I should have killed him. Where did you get the money? asked Kemp abruptly. The invisible man was silent for a space. I can't tell you tonight, he said. He groaned suddenly and leant forward, supporting his invisible head on invisible hands. Kemp, he said, I've had no sleep for near three days except a couple of dozes of an hour or so. I must sleep soon. Well have my room, have this room. But how can I sleep? If I sleep he will get away. Ugh. What does it matter? What's the shot wound? asked Kemp abruptly. Nothing, scratch and blood. Oh god, how I want to sleep. Why not? The invisible man appeared to be regarding Kemp. Because I've a particular objection to being caught by my fellow men, he said slowly. Kemp started. Fool that I am, said the invisible man, striking the table smartly. Put the idea into your head. Okay, so the invisible man's clearly concerned that if he goes to sleep, his friend, who is not treated very nicely so far, by the way, will go and tell the authorities, hey, the invisible man's asleep in my bed, you can go and get him. And you know what? I think Kemp is well within his right to do that the way he's been manhandled and treated? Disgusting. Chapter 18. The Invisible Man Sleeps. Exhausted and wounded as the Invisible Man was, he refused to accept Kemp's word that his freedom should be respected. He examined the two windows of the bedroom, drew up the blinds and opened the sashes. To confirm Kemp's statement that a retreat by them would be possible. Outside the night was very quiet and still, and the new moon was setting over the down. Then he examined the keys of the bedroom and the two dressing room doors to satisfy himself that these also could be made an assurance of freedom. Finally, he expressed himself satisfied. He stood on the hearth rug, and Kemp heard the sound of a yawn. I'm sorry, said the invisible man, if I cannot tell you all that I have done tonight, but I am worn out. It's grotesque, no doubt. It's horrible, but believe me, Kemp, it is quite a possible thing. I have made a discovery. I meant to keep it to myself. I can't. I must have a partner and you. We can do such things, but tomorrow. Now, Kemp, I feel as though I must sleep or perish. Kemp stood in the middle of the room, staring at the headless garment. I suppose I must leave you, he said. It's incredible. Three things happening like this, overturning all my preconceptions, would make me insane. But it's real. Is there anything more I can get you? Only bid me good night, said Griffin. Good night, said Kemp, and shook an invisible hand. He walked sideways to the door. Suddenly the dressing gown walked quickly towards him. Understand me, said the dressing gown. No attempts to hamper me or capture me. Or Kemp's face changed a little. I thought I gave you my word, he said. Kemp closed the door softly behind him and the key was turned upon him forthwith. Then, as he stood with an expression of passive amazement on his face, the rapid feet came to the door of the dressing room, and that too was locked. Kemp slapped his brow with his hand. Am I dreaming? Has the world gone mad or have I? He laughed and put his hand to the locked door. I mean I can understand where the invisible man comes from in terms of his fear of being caught and detained and therefore assumingly not being able to find a solution to make himself visible again. But I mean the way he's treating people and going about it, like how do you expect people to help you if you're gonna attack them and threaten them every chance you get? He laughed and put his hand to the locked door. Barred out of my own bedroom by a flagrant absurdity, he said. He walked to the head of the staircase, turned, and stared at the locked doors. It's fact, he said, put his hands to his slightly bruised neck. Undeniable fact. But he shook his head hopelessly, turned and went downstairs. He lit the dining room lamp, got out a cigar and began pacing the room, ejaculating. Now and then he would argue with himself. Invisible, he said. Is there such a thing as an invisible animal in the sea? Yes, thousands, millions. All the larvae, all the little naoplay and tornorias. Alright, there's some um animal names, let me look them up. Okay, so the naoplian tornarias, they're basically microscopic larvae. Which which Kemp says here, all the larvae, all the little naoplay and tornorias, all the microscopic things, the jellyfish. In the sea, there are more things invisible than visible. I never thought of that before. And in the ponds too, all these little pond life things, specks of colourless, translucent jelly, but in air, no, it can't be. But after all, why not? If a man were made of glass, he would still be visible. His meditation became profound. The bulk of three cigars had passed into the invisible or diffused as white ash over the carpet before he spoke again. Then it was merely an exclamation. He turned aside, walked out of the room, and went into his little consulting room and lit the gas there. It was a little room because Dr. Kemp did not live by practice, and in it were the day's newspapers. The morning's paper lay carelessly open and thrown aside. He caught it up, turned it over, and read the account of a strange story from Ipping that the marinite Port Stowe had spelt over so painfully to Mr. Marvel. Kemp read it swiftly. Wrapped up, said Kemp, disguised, hiding it, no one seems to have been aware of his misfortune. What the devil is his game? He dropped the paper in his eye, went seeking. Ah, he said, and caught up the St. James's Gazette, lying folded up as it arrived. Now we shall get at the truth, said Dr. Kemp. He rent the paper open. A couple of columns confronted him. An entire village in Sussex goes mad was the heading. Good heavens, said Kemp, reading eagerly an incredulously. Account of the events in Ipping the previous afternoon that have already been described. Over the leaf, the report in the morning paper had been reprinted. He reread it, ran through the streets, striking left and right, Jaffers insensible, Mr. Huckster in great pain, still unable to describe what he saw. Painful humiliation, Vicca. Woman ill with terror. Windows smashed. Too good not to print. Come grano. I don't know what that means. Some Latin here. Let's have a look. Okay, so basically it means like with a pinch of salt. So he's basically taking all the news articles about the invisible man, and he's going, yeah, it's probably been exaggerated and conflated by people's accounts. I'm going to take it off with a pinch of salt and assume that it's not actually real. He dropped the paper and stared blankly in front of him. Probably a fabrication. He caught up the paper again and reread the whole business. But when does the tramp come in? Why the deuce was he chasing a tramp? He sat down abruptly on the surgical couch. It's not only invisible, he said, but he's mad, homicidal. When dawn came to mingle its pallor with the lamplight 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 overstudy had worked this ill on Matt. 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 24 hours, Marvel testified. Certain minor facts were added to the Ipping story, notably the cutting of the village telegraph wire, but there was nothing to throw light on the connection 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 every one 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 Addy, 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. My god, the invisible man so cranky. Alright, we might leave it for there today. The invisible man finally found a friend, someone to help him, and yet he's not treating him like a friend at all, which really annoys me. But I guess hopefully in the next chapter, we'll um hear the invisible man story, find out how he became invisible and what brought him to Ipping in the first place, right? Anyway, hopefully we'll find that out next time. Catch you then.