The Invisible Man Loses His Temper

It is unavoidable that at this point the narrative should break off again, for a certain very painful reason that will presently be apparent. While these things were going on in the parlour, and while Mr. Huxter was watching Mr. Marvel smoking his pipe against the gate, not a dozen yards away were Mr. Hall and Teddy Henfrey discussing in a state of cloudy puzzlement the one Iping topic.

The story must break off again here, for a very painful reason that will soon become clear. While these events were taking place in the parlour, Mr. Huxter was watching Mr. Marvel smoke his pipe against the gate. Less than a dozen yards away, Mr. Hall and Teddy Henfrey were discussing the one topic on everyone’s mind in Iping. They were thoroughly puzzled by it.

Suddenly there came a violent thud against the door of the parlour, a sharp cry, and then—silence.

Suddenly, a violent thud struck the parlor door. A sharp cry followed, and then silence.

“Hul-lo!” said Teddy Henfrey.

“Hello!” said Teddy Henfrey.

“Hul-lo!” from the Tap.

“Hello!” came from the taproom.

Mr. Hall took things in slowly but surely. “That ain’t right,” he said, and came round from behind the bar towards the parlour door.

Mr. Hall understood things slowly but surely. “That ain’t right,” he said. He came out from behind the bar and went toward the parlor door.

He and Teddy approached the door together, with intent faces. Their eyes considered. “Summat wrong,” said Hall, and Henfrey nodded agreement. Whiffs of an unpleasant chemical odour met them, and there was a muffled sound of conversation, very rapid and subdued.

He and Teddy approached the door together, their faces intent. They looked at the door thoughtfully. “Something wrong,” said Hall, and Henfrey nodded in agreement. They caught whiffs of an unpleasant chemical smell. They heard muffled voices speaking very quickly and quietly.

“You all right thur?” asked Hall, rapping.

“You all right there?” asked Hall, knocking.

The muttered conversation ceased abruptly, for a moment silence, then the conversation was resumed, in hissing whispers, then a sharp cry of “No! no, you don’t!” There came a sudden motion and the oversetting of a chair, a brief struggle. Silence again.

The muttered conversation stopped abruptly. For a moment there was silence. Then the conversation resumed in hissing whispers. A sharp cry followed: “No! no, you don’t!” There was a sudden movement, a chair overturned, and a brief struggle. Then silence again.

“What the dooce?” exclaimed Henfrey, sotto voce.

“What the heck?” exclaimed Henfrey, under his breath.

“You—all—right thur?” asked Mr. Hall, sharply, again.

“You all right there?” Mr. Hall asked sharply again.

The Vicar’s voice answered with a curious jerking intonation: “Quite ri-right. Please don’t—interrupt.”

The Vicar answered in a strangely jerky voice: “Quite ri-right. Please don’t interrupt.”

“Odd!” said Mr. Henfrey.

“Strange!” said Mr. Henfrey.

“Odd!” said Mr. Hall.

“Strange!” said Mr. Hall.

“Says, ‘Don’t interrupt,’” said Henfrey.

“Says, ‘Don’t interrupt,’” said Henfrey.

“I heerd’n,” said Hall.

“I heard him,” said Hall.

“And a sniff,” said Henfrey.

“And a sniff,” said Henfrey.

They remained listening. The conversation was rapid and subdued. “I can’t,” said Mr. Bunting, his voice rising; “I tell you, sir, I will not.”

They kept listening. The conversation was quick and quiet. “I can’t,” said Mr. Bunting, raising his voice. “I tell you, sir, I will not.”

“What was that?” asked Henfrey.

“What was that?” asked Henfrey.

“Says he wi’ nart,” said Hall. “Warn’t speaking to us, wuz he?”

“Says he with naught,” said Hall. “Wasn't speaking to us, was he?”

“Disgraceful!” said Mr. Bunting, within.

“Disgraceful!” said Mr. Bunting from inside.

“‘Disgraceful,’” said Mr. Henfrey. “I heard it—distinct.”

“‘Disgraceful,’” said Mr. Henfrey. “I heard it clearly.”

“Who’s that speaking now?” asked Henfrey.

“Who’s speaking now?” asked Henfrey.

“Mr. Cuss, I s’pose,” said Hall. “Can you hear—anything?”

“Mr. Cuss, I suppose,” said Hall. “Can you hear anything?”

Silence. The sounds within indistinct and perplexing.

Silence. The sounds inside are unclear and puzzling.

“Sounds like throwing the table-cloth about,” said Hall.

“Sounds like someone throwing the tablecloth around,” said Hall.

Mrs. Hall appeared behind the bar. Hall made gestures of silence and invitation. This aroused Mrs. Hall’s wifely opposition. “What yer listenin’ there for, Hall?” she asked. “Ain’t you nothin’ better to do—busy day like this?”

Mrs. Hall appeared behind the bar. Hall gestured for her to be quiet and join him. This made Mrs. Hall, as his wife, object. “What are you listening there for, Hall?” she asked. “Ain't you nothing better to do, on a busy day like this?”

Hall tried to convey everything by grimaces and dumb show, but Mrs. Hall was obdurate. She raised her voice. So Hall and Henfrey, rather crestfallen, tiptoed back to the bar, gesticulating to explain to her.

Hall tried to explain everything with facial expressions and gestures, but Mrs. Hall refused to listen. She raised her voice. So Hall and Henfrey, looking rather discouraged, tiptoed back to the bar, gesturing as they tried to explain.

At first she refused to see anything in what they had heard at all. Then she insisted on Hall keeping silence, while Henfrey told her his story. She was inclined to think the whole business nonsense—perhaps they were just moving the furniture about. “I heerd’n say ‘disgraceful’; that I did,” said Hall.

At first, she refused to think anything of what they had heard. Then she insisted that Hall keep quiet while Henfrey told her his story. She was inclined to think the whole thing was nonsense. Perhaps they were just moving the furniture around. “I heard him say ‘disgraceful’; that I did,” said Hall.

“I heerd that, Mrs. Hall,” said Henfrey.

“I heard that, Mrs. Hall,” said Henfrey.

“Like as not—” began Mrs. Hall.

“Probably...” began Mrs. Hall.

“Hsh!” said Mr. Teddy Henfrey. “Didn’t I hear the window?”

“Shh!” said Mr. Teddy Henfrey. “Didn’t I hear the window?”

“What window?” asked Mrs. Hall.

“What window?” asked Mrs. Hall.

“Parlour window,” said Henfrey.

“Living room window,” said Henfrey.

Everyone stood listening intently. Mrs. Hall’s eyes, directed straight before her, saw without seeing the brilliant oblong of the inn door, the road white and vivid, and Huxter’s shop-front blistering in the June sun. Abruptly Huxter’s door opened and Huxter appeared, eyes staring with excitement, arms gesticulating. “Yap!” cried Huxter. “Stop thief!” and he ran obliquely across the oblong towards the yard gates, and vanished.

Everyone stood listening closely. Mrs. Hall stared straight ahead, seeing without really noticing the bright rectangle of the inn doorway. Beyond it, the road was bright white, and Huxter’s shopfront shimmered in the June sun. Suddenly, Huxter’s door opened and he appeared, his eyes wide with excitement and his arms waving. “Yap!” cried Huxter. “Stop thief!” He ran diagonally across the doorway toward the yard gates and disappeared.

Simultaneously came a tumult from the parlour, and a sound of windows being closed.

At the same time, a commotion broke out in the sitting room, and windows could be heard closing.

Hall, Henfrey, and the human contents of the tap rushed out at once pell-mell into the street. They saw someone whisk round the corner towards the road, and Mr. Huxter executing a complicated leap in the air that ended on his face and shoulder. Down the street people were standing astonished or running towards them.

Hall, Henfrey, and everyone in the taproom rushed out into the street at once, all in a jumble. They saw someone dart around the corner toward the road. They also saw Mr. Huxter make a complicated leap into the air and land on his face and shoulder. Farther down the street, people stood in astonishment or ran toward them.

Mr. Huxter was stunned. Henfrey stopped to discover this, but Hall and the two labourers from the Tap rushed at once to the corner, shouting incoherent things, and saw Mr. Marvel vanishing by the corner of the church wall. They appear to have jumped to the impossible conclusion that this was the Invisible Man suddenly become visible, and set off at once along the lane in pursuit. But Hall had hardly run a dozen yards before he gave a loud shout of astonishment and went flying headlong sideways, clutching one of the labourers and bringing him to the ground. He had been charged just as one charges a man at football. The second labourer came round in a circle, stared, and conceiving that Hall had tumbled over of his own accord, turned to resume the pursuit, only to be tripped by the ankle just as Huxter had been. Then, as the first labourer struggled to his feet, he was kicked sideways by a blow that might have felled an ox.

Mr. Huxter was stunned. Henfrey stopped to check on him, but Hall and the two labourers from the Tap rushed straight to the corner. Shouting incoherently, they saw Mr. Marvel disappearing around the corner of the church wall. They seem to have jumped to the impossible conclusion that he was the Invisible Man, suddenly visible. They immediately set off down the lane after him. But Hall had hardly run a dozen yards when he shouted in surprise and went flying sideways. He grabbed one of the labourers and brought him down too. Hall had been charged like a player in a football match. The second labourer turned in a circle and stared. Thinking Hall had fallen over by himself, he turned to resume the chase. But he was tripped at the ankle, just as Huxter had been. Then, as the first labourer struggled to his feet, he was kicked sideways by a blow that might have felled an ox.

As he went down, the rush from the direction of the village green came round the corner. The first to appear was the proprietor of the cocoanut shy, a burly man in a blue jersey. He was astonished to see the lane empty save for three men sprawling absurdly on the ground. And then something happened to his rear-most foot, and he went headlong and rolled sideways just in time to graze the feet of his brother and partner, following headlong. The two were then kicked, knelt on, fallen over, and cursed by quite a number of over-hasty people.

As he fell, the crowd rushing from the village green came around the corner. First came the owner of the coconut shy, a burly man in a blue sweater. He was astonished to see the lane empty except for three men sprawled absurdly on the ground. Then something happened to his back foot, and he fell headfirst. He rolled sideways just in time to brush against the feet of his brother and business partner, who was rushing behind him. A good number of people, hurrying too fast, kicked the two men, knelt on them, fell over them, and cursed them.

Now when Hall and Henfrey and the labourers ran out of the house, Mrs. Hall, who had been disciplined by years of experience, remained in the bar next the till. And suddenly the parlour door was opened, and Mr. Cuss appeared, and without glancing at her rushed at once down the steps toward the corner. “Hold him!” he cried. “Don’t let him drop that parcel.”

When Hall, Henfrey, and the laborers ran out of the house, Mrs. Hall stayed in the bar by the cash register. Years of experience had taught her to stay there. Suddenly, the parlor door opened and Mr. Cuss appeared. Without looking at her, he rushed down the steps toward the corner. “Hold him!” he cried. “Don’t let him drop that parcel.”

He knew nothing of the existence of Marvel. For the Invisible Man had handed over the books and bundle in the yard. The face of Mr. Cuss was angry and resolute, but his costume was defective, a sort of limp white kilt that could only have passed muster in Greece. “Hold him!” he bawled. “He’s got my trousers! And every stitch of the Vicar’s clothes!”

He knew nothing about Marvel. The Invisible Man had handed over the books and bundle in the yard. Mr. Cuss looked angry and determined, but his outfit was lacking. He wore a sort of limp white kilt that would only have been acceptable in Greece. “Hold him!” he shouted. “He’s got my trousers! And every stitch of the Vicar’s clothes!”

“’Tend to him in a minute!” he cried to Henfrey as he passed the prostrate Huxter, and, coming round the corner to join the tumult, was promptly knocked off his feet into an indecorous sprawl. Somebody in full flight trod heavily on his finger. He yelled, struggled to regain his feet, was knocked against and thrown on all fours again, and became aware that he was involved not in a capture, but a rout. Everyone was running back to the village. He rose again and was hit severely behind the ear. He staggered and set off back to the “Coach and Horses” forthwith, leaping over the deserted Huxter, who was now sitting up, on his way.

“Attend to him in a minute!” he cried to Henfrey as he passed Huxter, who was lying on the ground. He rounded the corner to join the commotion and was promptly knocked off his feet, landing in an awkward sprawl. Someone fleeing at full speed stepped heavily on his finger. He yelled and struggled to his feet, but someone knocked into him and threw him onto all fours again. He realized that he had joined not a capture, but a retreat. Everyone was running back to the village. He got up again and was struck hard behind the ear. He staggered and immediately headed back to the “Coach and Horses.” On the way, he leaped over Huxter, who had been left behind and was now sitting up.

Behind him as he was halfway up the inn steps he heard a sudden yell of rage, rising sharply out of the confusion of cries, and a sounding smack in someone’s face. He recognised the voice as that of the Invisible Man, and the note was that of a man suddenly infuriated by a painful blow.

Halfway up the inn steps, he heard a sudden yell of rage behind him. It rose sharply above the confused cries, followed by a loud smack against someone’s face. He recognized the Invisible Man’s voice. It sounded like a man suddenly enraged by a painful blow.

In another moment Mr. Cuss was back in the parlour. “He’s coming back, Bunting!” he said, rushing in. “Save yourself!”

A moment later, Mr. Cuss rushed back into the room. “He’s coming back, Bunting!” he said. “Save yourself!”

Mr. Bunting was standing in the window engaged in an attempt to clothe himself in the hearth-rug and a West Surrey Gazette. “Who’s coming?” he said, so startled that his costume narrowly escaped disintegration.

Mr. Bunting stood at the window, trying to dress himself in the hearth rug and a West Surrey Gazette. “Who’s coming?” he said, so startled that his outfit nearly fell apart.

“Invisible Man,” said Cuss, and rushed on to the window. “We’d better clear out from here! He’s fighting mad! Mad!”

“Invisible Man,” said Cuss, and rushed to the window. “We’d better get out of here! He’s furious! Furious!”

In another moment he was out in the yard.

A moment later, he was out in the yard.

“Good heavens!” said Mr. Bunting, hesitating between two horrible alternatives. He heard a frightful struggle in the passage of the inn, and his decision was made. He clambered out of the window, adjusted his costume hastily, and fled up the village as fast as his fat little legs would carry him.

“Good heavens!” said Mr. Bunting. He hesitated between two horrible choices. Then he heard a frightening struggle in the inn’s hallway and made up his mind. He climbed out of the window, quickly straightened his clothes, and fled through the village as fast as his fat little legs could carry him.

From the moment when the Invisible Man screamed with rage and Mr. Bunting made his memorable flight up the village, it became impossible to give a consecutive account of affairs in Iping. Possibly the Invisible Man’s original intention was simply to cover Marvel’s retreat with the clothes and books. But his temper, at no time very good, seems to have gone completely at some chance blow, and forthwith he set to smiting and overthrowing, for the mere satisfaction of hurting.

The Invisible Man screamed with rage, and Mr. Bunting made his memorable flight through the village. From that moment, it became impossible to give a clear account of events in Iping in the order they happened. Perhaps the Invisible Man had originally intended only to cover Marvel’s retreat with the clothes and books. But his temper was never very good. A chance blow seems to have made him lose it completely. He immediately began hitting people and knocking them down, simply for the satisfaction of hurting them.

You must figure the street full of running figures, of doors slamming and fights for hiding-places. You must figure the tumult suddenly striking on the unstable equilibrium of old Fletcher’s planks and two chairs—with cataclysmic results. You must figure an appalled couple caught dismally in a swing. And then the whole tumultuous rush has passed and the Iping street with its gauds and flags is deserted save for the still raging unseen, and littered with cocoanuts, overthrown canvas screens, and the scattered stock in trade of a sweetstuff stall. Everywhere there is a sound of closing shutters and shoving bolts, and the only visible humanity is an occasional flitting eye under a raised eyebrow in the corner of a window pane.

Imagine the street full of people running, doors slamming, and fights over hiding places. Imagine the commotion suddenly hitting old Fletcher’s planks, precariously balanced on two chairs, with disastrous results. Imagine a terrified couple miserably trapped in a swing. Then the whole noisy rush has passed. Iping street, with its decorations and flags, is deserted except for the unseen figure, still raging. Coconuts, overturned canvas screens, and the scattered goods from a sweet stall litter the street. Everywhere, shutters are closing and bolts being pushed into place. The only visible sign of a person is an occasional eye, glancing out from under a raised eyebrow in the corner of a windowpane.

The Invisible Man amused himself for a little while by breaking all the windows in the “Coach and Horses,” and then he thrust a street lamp through the parlour window of Mrs. Gribble. He it must have been who cut the telegraph wire to Adderdean just beyond Higgins’ cottage on the Adderdean road. And after that, as his peculiar qualities allowed, he passed out of human perceptions altogether, and he was neither heard, seen, nor felt in Iping any more. He vanished absolutely.

The Invisible Man amused himself for a while by breaking all the windows in the “Coach and Horses.” Then he pushed a street lamp through Mrs. Gribble’s parlour window. He must also have cut the telegraph wire to Adderdean, just beyond Higgins’ cottage on the Adderdean road. After that, his peculiar qualities allowed him to escape human perception altogether. He was never heard, seen, or felt in Iping again. He vanished completely.

But it was the best part of two hours before any human being ventured out again into the desolation of Iping street.

But nearly two hours passed before anyone dared to venture out again into the desolate street in Iping.