The Invisible Man

"Didn't go Back by any chance?" asked Marvel. "Just escaped, and that's all, eh?"

"All!" said the mariner. "Why!—ain't it enough?"

"Quite enough," said Marvel.

"I should think it was enough," said the mariner. "I should think it was enough."

"He didn't have any pals—it don't say he had any pals, does it?" asked Mr. Marvel, anxious.

"Ain't one of a sort enough for you?" asked the mariner. "No, thank heaven, as one might say, he didn't."

He nodded his head slowly. "It makes me regular uncomfortable, the bare thought of that chap running about the country!— He is at present at Large, and from certain evidence, it is supposed that he has—taken—took, I suppose they mean—the road to Port Stowe. You see we're right in it! None of your American wonders this time. And just think of the things he might do! Where'd you be if he took a drop over and above,[5] and had a fancy to go for[6] you? Suppose he wants to rob—who can prevent him? He can trespass, he can burgle, he can walk through a cordon of policemen as easy as me or you could give the slip to a blind man! Easier! For these here blind chaps hear uncommon sharp, I'm told. And wherever there was liquor he fancied—"

"He's got a tremenjous[7] advantage, certainly," said Mr. Marvel. "And—well…"

"You're right," said the mariner; "he has."

All this time Mr. Marvel had been glancing about him intently, listening for faint footfalls, trying to detect imperceptible movements. He seemed on the point of some great resolution; he coughed behind his hand.

He looked about him again—listened—bent towards the mariner, and lowered his voice.

"The fact of it is, I happen—to know just a thing or two about this Invisible Man. From private sources."

"Oh!" said the mariner. "You?"

"Yes," said Mr. Marvel—"me."

"Indeed!" said the mariner. "And may I ask—?"

"You'll be astonished," said Mr. Marvel, behind his hand. "It's tremenjous."

"Indeed!" said the mariner.

"The fact is," began Mr. Marvel eagerly, in a confidential undertone. Suddenly his expression changed marvellously. "Ow!" he said. He rose stiffly in his seat; his face was eloquent of physical suffering. "Wow!" he said.

"What's up?" said the mariner, concerned.

"Toothache," said Mr. Marvel, and put his hand to his ear. He caught hold of his books. "I must be getting on, I think," he said. He edged in a curious way along the seat away from his interlocutor.

"But you was just a-going to tell me about this here Invisible Man," protested the mariner.

Mr. Marvel seemed to consult with himself.

"Hoax,"[8] said a Voice.

"It's a hoax," said Mr. Marvel.

"But it's in the paper," said the mariner.

"Hoax all the same," said Marvel. "I know the chap that started the lie. There ain't no Invisible Man whatsoever… Blimey."

"But how 'bout this paper? D'you mean to say—?"

"Not a word of it," said Mr. Marvel stoutly.

The mariner stared, paper in hand. Mr. Marvel jerkily faced about. "Wait a bit," said the mariner, rising and speaking slowly. "D'you mean to say—?"

"I do," said Mr. Marvel.

"Then why did you let me go on and tell you all this blarsted stuff, then? What d'yer mean by letting a man make a fool of himself like that for, eh?"

Mr. Marvel blew out his cheeks. The mariner was suddenly very red indeed, he clenched his hands. "I been talking here this ten minutes," he said; "and you, you little pot-bellied, leathery-faced son of an old boot,[9] couldn't have the elementary manners—"

"Don't you come bandying words with me," said Mr. Marvel.

"Bandying words! I've a jolly good mind—"

"Come up," said a Voice, and Mr. Marvel was suddenly whirled about and started marching off in a curious, spasmodic manner. "You'd better move on," said the mariner. "Who's moving on?" said Mr. Marvel. He was receding obliquely with a curious, hurrying gait, with occasional violent jerks forward. Some way along the road he began a muttered monologue, protests and recriminations.

"Silly devil," said the mariner, legs wide apart, arms akimbo, watching the receding figure. "I'll show you, you silly fool, hoaxing me! It's here in the paper!"

Mr. Marvel retorted incoherently, and receding was hidden by a bend in the road; but the mariner still stood magnificent in the midst of the way, until the approach of a butcher's cart dislodged him. Then he turned himself towards Port Stowe. "Full of extra-ordinary fools," he said softly to himself. "Just to take me down a bit—that was his silly game… 'It's in the paper!"