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.

Though exhausted and wounded, the Invisible Man would not trust Kemp’s promise to respect his freedom. He checked the two bedroom windows, raising the blinds and opening the sashes. He wanted to confirm Kemp’s claim that he could escape through them. Outside, the night was very quiet and still, and the new moon was setting over the downs. Then he checked the keys to the bedroom and the two dressing-room doors. He wanted to make sure they could also help guarantee his freedom. Finally, he said he was satisfied. He stood on the hearth rug, and Kemp heard him yawn.

“I’m sorry,” said the Invisible Man, “if I cannot tell you all that I have done to-night. But I am worn out. It’s grotesque, no doubt. It’s horrible! But believe me, Kemp, in spite of your arguments of this morning, 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 to-morrow. Now, Kemp, I feel as though I must sleep or perish.”

“I’m sorry,” said the Invisible Man, “that I can’t tell you everything I’ve done tonight. But I’m exhausted. It’s strange, no doubt. It’s horrible! But believe me, Kemp, despite your arguments this morning, it’s quite possible. I’ve made a discovery. I meant to keep it to myself. I can’t. I need a partner. And you.... We can do such things ... But tomorrow. Now, Kemp, I feel as if I must sleep or die.”

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 that I can get you?”

Kemp stood in the middle of the room, staring at the headless garment. “I suppose I should leave you,” he said. “It’s incredible. Three things like this, overturning everything I thought I knew, would drive me insane. But it’s real! Is there anything else I can get you?”

“Only bid me good-night,” said Griffin.

“Just say good night to me,” 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—”

“Good night,” said Kemp, and shook an invisible hand. He moved sideways to the door. Suddenly, the dressing gown moved quickly toward him. “Understand me!” said the dressing gown. “Don’t try to stop me or capture me! Or…”

Kemp’s face changed a little. “I thought I gave you my word,” he said.

Kemp’s expression changed slightly. “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?”

Kemp closed the door softly behind him, and it was immediately locked behind him. He stood there, looking too amazed to react. Then he heard rapid footsteps reach the dressing-room door, and that door was locked too. Kemp slapped his forehead. “Am I dreaming? Has the world gone mad, or have I?”

He laughed, and put his hand to the locked door. “Barred out of my own bedroom, by a flagrant absurdity!” he said.

He laughed and put his hand on the locked door. “Locked out of my own bedroom by a ridiculous mistake!” he said.

He walked to the head of the staircase, turned, and stared at the locked doors. “It’s fact,” he said. He put his fingers to his slightly bruised neck. “Undeniable fact!

He walked to the top of the stairs, turned, and stared at the locked doors. “It’s a fact,” he said. He touched his slightly bruised neck. “An undeniable fact!

“But—”

“But...”

He shook his head hopelessly, turned, and went downstairs.

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.

He lit the dining-room lamp, got out a cigar, and began pacing the room, shouting things out. Now and then he argued with himself.

“Invisible!” he said.

“Invisible!” he said.

“Is there such a thing as an invisible animal? ... In the sea, yes. Thousands—millions. All the larvae, all the little nauplii and tornarias, all the microscopic things, the jelly-fish. In the sea there are more things invisible than visible! I never thought of that before. And in the ponds too! All those little pond-life things—specks of colourless translucent jelly! But in air? No!

“Is there such a thing as an invisible animal? ... In the sea, yes. Thousands, millions. All the larvae, all the tiny nauplii and tornarias, all the microscopic things, the jellyfish. In the sea, more things are invisible than visible! I never thought of that before. And in ponds too! All those little pond creatures, specks of colorless, translucent jelly! But in the air? No!

“It can’t be.

“It can’t be.

“But after all—why not?

“But after all, why not?

“If a man was made of glass he would still be visible.”

“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 a 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 opened and thrown aside. He caught it up, turned it over, and read the account of a “Strange Story from Iping” that the mariner at Port Stowe had spelt over so painfully to Mr. Marvel. Kemp read it swiftly.

He sank into deep thought. By the time he spoke again, three cigars had vanished into smoke or scattered as white ash on the carpet. Then he merely exclaimed. He turned away, left the room, and went into his small consulting room, where he lit the gas. The room was small because Dr. Kemp did not make his living from his medical practice. The day’s newspapers were there. The morning paper lay open, carelessly tossed aside. He picked it up, turned it over, and read the account titled “Strange Story from Iping.” This was the story the sailor at Port Stowe had read out so laboriously to Mr. Marvel. Kemp read it quickly.

“Wrapped up!” said Kemp. “Disguised! Hiding it! ‘No one seems to have been aware of his misfortune.’ What the devil is his game?”

“Wrapped up!” said Kemp. “Disguised! Hiding it! ‘No one seems to have known about his misfortune.’ What the devil is he up to?”

He dropped the paper, and his eye went seeking. “Ah!” he said, and caught up the St. James’ 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.

He dropped the paper and looked around. “Ah!” he said, picking up the St. James’ Gazette. It was still folded as it had arrived. “Now we shall find out the truth,” said Dr. Kemp. He tore the paper open. Two columns faced him under the headline “An Entire Village in Sussex goes Mad.”

“Good Heavens!” said Kemp, reading eagerly an incredulous account of the events in Iping, of the previous afternoon, that have already been described. Over the leaf the report in the morning paper had been reprinted.

“Good Heavens!” said Kemp. He was eagerly reading an account of the previous afternoon’s events in Iping. The account, which expressed disbelief, described events already covered here. On the next page, the morning paper’s report had been reprinted.

He re-read it. “Ran through the streets striking right and left. Jaffers insensible. Mr. Huxter in great pain—still unable to describe what he saw. Painful humiliation—vicar. Woman ill with terror! Windows smashed. This extraordinary story probably a fabrication. Too good not to print—cum grano!”

He read it again. “Ran through the streets, striking out in all directions. Jaffers unconscious. Mr. Huxter in great pain, still unable to describe what he saw. Vicar painfully humiliated. Woman sick with terror! Windows smashed. This extraordinary story is probably made up. Too good not to print, take it with a grain of salt!”

He dropped the paper and stared blankly in front of him. “Probably a fabrication!”

He dropped the paper and stared blankly ahead. “Probably made up!”

He caught up the paper again, and re-read the whole business. “But when does the Tramp come in? Why the deuce was he chasing a tramp?”

He picked up the paper again and reread the whole story. “But where does the Tramp come in? Why on earth was he chasing a tramp?”

He sat down abruptly on the surgical bench. “He’s not only invisible,” he said, “but he’s mad! Homicidal!”

He sat down suddenly on the surgical bench. “He’s not only invisible,” he said, “but he’s insane! He wants to kill!”

When dawn came to mingle its pallor with the lamp-light and cigar smoke of the dining-room, Kemp was still pacing up and down, trying to grasp the incredible.

As dawn broke, its pale light mingled with the lamplight and cigar smoke in the dining room. Kemp was still pacing up and down, trying to understand what seemed impossible.

He was altogether too excited to sleep. His servants, descending sleepily, discovered him, and were inclined to think that over-study had worked this ill on him. 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 twenty-four hours,” Marvel testified. Certain minor facts were added to the Iping story, notably the cutting of the village telegraph-wire. But there was nothing to throw light on the connexion 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.

He was far too excited to sleep. His servants came downstairs, still sleepy, and found him. They were inclined to think that too much study had caused his condition. He gave them unusual but very clear instructions. They were to set breakfast for two in the belvedere study, then stay in the basement and on the ground floor. He went on pacing the dining room until the morning paper arrived. It had much to say but little to report. It confirmed the previous evening’s news and gave a very badly written account of another remarkable story from Port Burdock. From this, Kemp learned the main facts of what had happened at the “Jolly Cricketers” and the name Marvel. “He has made me stay with him for twenty-four hours,” Marvel testified. A few minor facts were added to the Iping story, especially the cutting of the village telegraph wire. But nothing explained the connection between the Invisible Man and the Tramp. Mr. Marvel had said nothing about the three books or the money hidden in his clothes. The tone of disbelief had disappeared, and a swarm of reporters and investigators were already at work developing the story.

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.

Kemp read every bit of the report. He sent his housemaid out to get every morning paper she could find. He devoured those too.

“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?”

“He is invisible!” he said. “And it reads like anger growing into madness! The things he might do! The things he might do! And he’s upstairs, completely free. What on earth should I do?”

“For instance, would it be a breach of faith if—? No.”

“For example, would it be a betrayal 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 Adye, Port Burdock.”

He went to a small, messy desk in the corner and began writing a note. He tore it up halfway through and wrote another. He read the new note over and thought about it. Then he took an envelope and addressed it to “Colonel Adye, 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.

The Invisible Man woke up just as Kemp was doing this. He woke in a foul mood. Kemp, listening for every sound, heard his feet patter as he suddenly rushed across the bedroom overhead. Then a chair was thrown over, and the tumbler on the washstand smashed. Kemp hurried upstairs and knocked eagerly.