Chapter 17

Dr. Kemp’s Visitor

12 min

Dr. Kemp had continued writing in his study until the shots aroused him. Crack, crack, crack, they came one after the other.

Dr. Kemp was writing in his study until the shots startled him. Crack, crack, crack, the shots came one after another.

“Hullo!” 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?”

“Hello!” said Dr. Kemp, putting his pen back in his mouth and listening. “Who’s firing revolvers in Burdock? What are those idiots doing now?”

He went to the south window, threw it up, and leaning out stared down on the network of windows, beaded gas-lamps and shops, with its 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 ships’ lights shone, and the pier glowed—a little illuminated, facetted pavilion like a gem of yellow light. The moon in its first quarter hung over the westward hill, and the stars were clear and almost tropically bright.

He went to the south window, pushed it open, and leaned out. Below, the town at night was a network of windows, strings of gas lamps, and shops. Dark roofs and yards filled the spaces between them. “Looks like a crowd down the hill,” he said, “by ‘The Cricketers,’” and kept watching. Then his eyes wandered over the town to the distant lights of ships and the glowing pier. A small, brightly lit pavilion stood on the pier, its many sides shining like a yellow gem. A quarter moon hung over the hill to the west. The stars were clear and almost as bright as they are in the tropics.

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.

For five minutes, Dr. Kemp let his mind wander to distant speculations about society in the future. At last, he lost himself in thoughts about the time dimension. Then he roused himself with a sigh, pulled the window down again, and returned to his writing desk.

It must have been about an hour after this that the front-door bell rang. He had been writing slackly, and with intervals of abstraction, 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.

About an hour later, the front doorbell rang. Since the shots, he had been writing slowly, sometimes lost in thought. He sat listening. He heard the servant answer the door and waited to hear her come up the stairs, but she did not come. “I wonder what that was,” said Dr. Kemp.

He 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 appeared in the hall below. “Was that a letter?” he asked.

He tried to return to his work, but could not. He got up and went downstairs from his study to the landing. He rang the bell. When the housemaid appeared in the hall below, he called down to her over the railing. “Was that a letter?” he asked.

“Only a runaway ring, sir,” she answered.

“Just someone ringing the bell and running away, sir,” she replied.

“I’m restless to-night,” 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.

“I’m restless tonight,” he said to himself. He went back to his study and set to work with determination. Soon he was hard at work again. The only sounds in the room were the ticking clock and the soft, high-pitched scratching of his quill. He wrote quickly in the center of the circle of light cast by his lampshade on the 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. He took a candle and went down to the dining-room in search of a syphon and whiskey.

It was two o’clock before Dr. Kemp finished his work for the night. He got up, yawned, and went downstairs to bed. He had already taken off his coat and vest when he realized he was thirsty. He took a candle and went down to the dining room to look for a soda siphon and whiskey.

Dr. Kemp’s scientific pursuits have made him a very observant man, and as he recrossed the hall, he noticed a dark spot on 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 on 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 syphon and whiskey, and bending down, touched the spot. Without any great surprise he found it had the stickiness and colour of drying blood.

Dr. Kemp’s scientific work had made him very observant. As he crossed the hall again, he noticed a dark spot on the linoleum near the mat at the foot of the stairs. He continued upstairs, then suddenly wondered what the spot might be. Apparently, something in his subconscious was at work. In any case, he turned around, carrying the siphon and whiskey back to the hall. He put them down, bent over, and touched the spot. Without much surprise, he found that it had the color and stickiness of drying blood.

He took up his burden again, and returned upstairs, looking about him and trying to account for the blood-spot. On the landing he saw something and stopped astonished. The door-handle of his own room was blood-stained.

He picked up his burden again and went back upstairs, looking around and trying to explain the spot of blood. On the landing, he saw something and stopped in surprise. The handle of his own room’s door was stained with blood.

He looked at his own hand. It was quite clean, and 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 inquisitively, 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.

He looked at his hand. It was quite clean. Then he remembered that his room’s door had been open when he came down from his study. So he had not touched the handle at all. He went straight into his room, his face quite calm, perhaps a little more determined than usual. He looked around curiously, and his gaze fell on the bed. There was a mess of blood on the bedspread, and the sheet had been torn. He had not noticed this before because he had walked straight to the dressing table. On the far side of the bed, the covers were dented as if someone had recently sat 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.

Then he had the strange impression that he had heard a quiet voice say, “Good Heavens! Kemp!” But Dr. Kemp did not believe 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 blood-stained bed. Then he distinctly heard a movement across the room, near the wash-hand stand. All men, however highly educated, retain 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 blood-stained bandage of linen rag hanging in mid-air, between him and the wash-hand stand.

He stood staring at the tangled sheets. Had that really been a voice? He looked around again, but saw nothing else except the messy, bloodstained bed. Then he clearly heard movement across the room, near the washstand. All men, however well educated, retain some trace of superstition. An “eerie” feeling came over him. He closed the door, went to the dressing table, and put down what he was carrying. Suddenly, he noticed a coiled, bloodstained linen bandage hanging in midair between him and the washstand. He started in surprise.

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.

He stared at it in amazement. It was an empty bandage, properly tied but completely empty. He would have stepped forward to grab it, but a touch stopped him, and a voice spoke close to him.

“Kemp!” said the Voice.

“Eh?” said Kemp, with his mouth open.

“What?” said Kemp, his mouth open.

“Keep your nerve,” said the Voice. “I’m an Invisible Man.”

“Stay calm,” said the Voice. “I’m an Invisible Man.”

Kemp made no answer for a space, simply stared at the bandage. “Invisible Man,” he said.

Kemp said nothing for a while. He simply stared at the bandage. “Invisible Man,” he said.

“I am an Invisible Man,” repeated the Voice.

“I am an Invisible Man,” the Voice repeated.

The story he had been active to ridicule only that morning rushed through Kemp’s brain. He does not appear to have been either very much frightened or very greatly surprised at the moment. Realisation came later.

The story Kemp had eagerly mocked that morning rushed through his mind. He does not seem to have been very frightened or surprised at the time. The realization came later.

“I 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.

“I thought it was all a lie,” he said. The repeated arguments from that morning were foremost in his mind. “Are you wearing a bandage?” 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 towards the bandage, met invisible fingers.

“Oh!” said Kemp, pulling himself together. “Wait!” he said. “This is nonsense. It’s some kind of trick.” He suddenly stepped forward and reached for the bandage. His hand met invisible fingers.

He recoiled at the touch and his colour changed.

He pulled back at the touch, and his face changed color.

“Keep steady, Kemp, for God’s sake! I want help badly. Stop!”

“Stay calm, Kemp, for God’s sake! I need help badly. Stop!”

The hand gripped his arm. He struck at it.

The hand gripped his arm. He hit the hand.

“Kemp!” cried the Voice. “Kemp! Keep steady!” and the grip tightened.

“Kemp!” shouted the Voice. “Kemp! Stay steady!” 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.

Kemp was seized by a desperate desire to free himself. The hand on the bandaged arm gripped his shoulder. Suddenly, he was tripped and thrown backward onto the bed. He opened his mouth to shout, but the corner of the sheet was shoved between his teeth. The Invisible Man held him down with grim determination, but Kemp's arms were free. He struck out and tried to kick savagely.

“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!

“Will you listen to reason?” said the Invisible Man, clinging to him despite being pounded in the ribs. “For heaven’s sake! You’ll drive me mad in a minute!

“Lie still, you fool!” bawled the Invisible Man in Kemp’s ear.

“Lie still, you fool!” the Invisible Man shouted in Kemp’s ear.

Kemp struggled for another moment and then lay still.

Kemp struggled for another moment, then lay still.

“If you shout, I’ll smash your face,” said the Invisible Man, relieving his mouth.

“If you shout, I’ll smash your face,” said the Invisible Man, freeing his mouth.

“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?”

“I’m an Invisible Man. It’s not nonsense, and it’s not magic. I really am an Invisible Man. And I want your help. I don’t want to hurt you, but I must if you behave like a panicked country bumpkin. Don’t you remember me, Kemp? Griffin, from University College?”

“Let me get up,” said Kemp. “I’ll stop where I am. And let me sit quiet for a minute.”

“Let me get up,” said Kemp. “I’ll stay where I am. And let me sit quietly for a minute.”

He sat up and felt his neck.

“I am Griffin, of University College, and I have made myself invisible. I am just an ordinary man—a man you have known—made invisible.”

“I am Griffin from University College, and I have made myself invisible. I am just an ordinary man you have known. I have been 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.”

“Griffin,” answered the Voice. “A student younger than you were, almost an albino. He was six feet tall and broad, with a pink and white face and red eyes. He won the chemistry medal.”

“I am confused,” said Kemp. “My brain is rioting. What has this to do with Griffin?”

“I’m confused,” said Kemp. “My mind is racing. What does this have to do with Griffin?”

“I am Griffin.”

Kemp thought. “It’s horrible,” he said. “But what devilry must happen to make a man invisible?”

Kemp thought for a moment. “It’s horrible,” he said. “But what kind of dark magic could make a man invisible?”

“It’s no devilry. It’s a process, sane and intelligible enough—”

“It’s not devilry. It’s a process that’s perfectly rational and understandable.”

“It’s horrible!” said Kemp. “How on earth—?”

“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.”

“It’s horrible enough. But I’m hurt, in pain, and tired ... Good God! Kemp, you’re a man. Stay calm. Give me some food and drink, and let me sit down here.”

Kemp stared at the bandage as it moved across the room, then saw a basket chair dragged across the floor and come to rest near the bed. It creaked, and the seat was depressed the quarter of an inch or so. He rubbed his eyes and felt his neck again. “This beats ghosts,” he said, and laughed stupidly.

Kemp stared at the bandage as it moved across the room. Then he saw a wicker chair dragged across the floor. It stopped near the bed. The chair creaked, and its seat sank about a quarter of an inch. 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!”

“That’s better. Thank goodness, you’re starting to be sensible!”

“Or silly,” said Kemp, and knuckled his eyes.

“Or silly,” said Kemp, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

“Give me some whiskey. I’m near dead.”

“Give me some whiskey. I’m nearly 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?”

“It didn’t feel that way. Where are you? If I get up, will I bump into you? There! All right. Whiskey? Here. Where should I hand 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. 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 have suggested you are invisible.”

The chair creaked, and Kemp felt the glass being pulled away from him. He forced himself to let go, though every instinct told him not to. The glass came to rest, hovering twenty inches above the front edge of the chair’s seat. He stared at it in utter confusion. “This is, this must be, hypnotism. You’ve made me believe you’re invisible.”

“Nonsense,” said the Voice.

“It’s frantic.”

“Listen to me.”

“I demonstrated conclusively this morning,” began Kemp, “that invisibility—”

“I proved conclusively this morning,” Kemp began, “that invisibility...”

“Never mind what you’ve demonstrated!—I’m starving,” said the Voice, “and the night is chilly to a man without clothes.”

“Never mind what you’ve proved! I’m starving,” said the Voice, “and the night is cold for a man without clothes.”

“Food?” said Kemp.

The tumbler of whiskey tilted itself. “Yes,” said the Invisible Man rapping it down. “Have you a dressing-gown?”

The glass of whiskey tilted itself. “Yes,” said the Invisible Man, setting the glass down sharply. “Do you have 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 mid-air, fluttered weirdly, stood full and decorous buttoning itself, and sat down in his chair. “Drawers, socks, slippers would be a comfort,” said the Unseen, curtly. “And food.”

Kemp murmured an exclamation. He walked to a wardrobe and took out a faded scarlet robe. “Will this do?” he asked. The robe was taken from him. It hung limp in midair for a moment, then fluttered strangely. It filled out and stood upright, buttoning itself neatly, then sat down in his chair. “Underpants, socks, and 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!”

“Anything. But this is the craziest thing I’ve ever been involved in!”

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 mid-air, with a sound of gnawing.

He searched his drawers for the items, then went downstairs to search his pantry. He returned with some cold cutlets and bread. He pulled up a small table and put the food before his guest. “Don’t bother with knives,” said his visitor. A cutlet hung in midair, accompanied by the sound of gnawing.

“Invisible!” said Kemp, and sat down on a bedroom chair.

“Invisible!” Kemp said, and sat down on a chair in the bedroom.

“I always like to get something about me before I eat,” said the Invisible Man, with a full mouth, eating greedily. “Queer fancy!”

“I always like to put something on before I eat,” said the Invisible Man, eating greedily and speaking with his mouth full. “Strange habit!”

“I suppose that wrist is all right,” said Kemp.

“Trust me,” said the Invisible Man.

“Of all the strange and wonderful—”

“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 to-night. 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. It’s only the living tissue I’ve changed, and only for as long as I’m alive.... I’ve been in the house three hours.”

“Exactly. But it’s strange that I stumbled into your house to get bandaged. My first stroke of luck! Anyway, I meant to sleep in this house tonight. You’ll have to put up with that! It’s a filthy nuisance, my blood showing, isn’t it? There’s quite a clot over there. I see it becomes visible as it clots. I’ve only changed the living tissue, and only for as long as I’m alive.... 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.”

“But how is it done?” Kemp began, sounding frustrated. “Damn it! The whole thing is 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 candle-light 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?”

He reached over and took the whiskey bottle. Kemp stared at the dressing gown as it devoured the food. A ray of candlelight passed through a tear in its right shoulder. It made a triangle of light beneath the left ribs. “What were those shots?” he asked. “How did the shooting begin?”

“There was a real fool of a man—a sort of confederate of mine—curse him!—who tried to steal my money. Has done so.”

“There was a real fool of a man, a sort of partner of mine. Curse him! He tried to steal my money. He has stolen it.”

“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. And you want me to tell stories!”

“Can’t I have some more to eat before I tell you all that? I’m hungry and in pain. And 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.”

“Not me,” said his visitor. “Some fool I’d never seen before fired at random. A lot of them got scared. They all got scared of me. Curse them! I say, Kemp, I want more to eat than this.”

“I’ll see what there is to eat downstairs,” said Kemp. “Not much, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll see what there is to eat downstairs,” said Kemp. “I’m afraid there’s not much.”

After he had done eating, and he made a heavy meal, the Invisible Man demanded a cigar. 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 nares, became visible as a sort of whirling smoke cast.

After eating a large meal, the Invisible Man demanded a cigar. He savagely bit off the end before Kemp could find a knife. He cursed when the outer leaf came loose. It was strange to see him smoking. His mouth, throat, pharynx, and nasal passages became visible as a kind of swirling smoke cast.

“This blessed gift of smoking!” he said, and puffed vigorously. “I’m lucky to have fallen upon you, Kemp. You must help me. Fancy tumbling on you just now! I’m in a devilish scrape—I’ve been mad, I think. The things I have been through! But we will do things yet. Let me tell you—”

“What a blessing smoking is!” he said, puffing vigorously. “I’m lucky to have run into you, Kemp. You must help me. Imagine finding you just now! I’m in terrible trouble. I think I’ve been mad. The things I’ve been through! But we’ll still do things. Let me tell you.”

He helped himself to more whiskey and soda. Kemp got up, looked about him, and fetched a glass from his spare room. “It’s wild—but I suppose I may drink.”

He poured himself more whiskey and soda. Kemp got up, looked around, and brought a glass from his spare room. “It’s wild, but I suppose I can have a 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!”

“You haven’t changed much in twelve years, Kemp. Fair-haired men like you don’t change much. Cool and methodical, once you get over the first shock. I must tell you. We’ll work together!”

“But how was it all done?” said Kemp, “and how did you get like this?”

“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.”

“For God’s sake, let me smoke in peace for a little while! Then I’ll begin to tell you.”

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.

But the story was not told that night. The Invisible Man’s wrist was growing painful, and he was feverish and exhausted. His thoughts returned to the chase down the hill and the struggle at the inn. He brooded over them and spoke of Marvel in fragments. He smoked faster, and his voice grew angry. Kemp tried to piece together what he could.

“He was afraid of me, I could see that 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!

“He was afraid of me. I could see he was afraid of me,” the Invisible Man said again and again. “He meant to get away from me. He was always looking for a way! What a fool I was!

“The cur!

“The coward!

“I should have killed him!”

“Where did you get the money?” asked Kemp, abruptly.

“Where did you get the money?” Kemp asked abruptly.

The Invisible Man was silent for a space. “I can’t tell you to-night,” he said.

The Invisible Man was silent for a while. “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.”

He groaned suddenly and leaned forward, resting his invisible head on his invisible hands. “Kemp,” he said, “I haven’t slept for almost three days, except for a couple of naps of about an hour each. I must sleep soon.”

“Well, have my room—have this room.”

“Well, take my room, take this room.”

“But how can I sleep? If I sleep—he will get away. Ugh! What does it matter?”

“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.

“What about the gunshot wound?” Kemp asked abruptly.

“Nothing—scratch and blood. Oh, God! How I want sleep!”

“Nothing. Scratches 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.

The Invisible Man seemed to be looking at Kemp. “Because I really don’t want to be caught by other people,” he said slowly.

Kemp started.

Kemp was startled.

“Fool that I am!” said the Invisible Man, striking the table smartly. “I’ve put the idea into your head.”

“What a fool I am!” said the Invisible Man, striking the table sharply. “I’ve put the idea into your head.”