The Invisible Man

I. The strange Man’s Arrival II. Mr. Teddy Henfrey’s first Impressions III. The thousand and one Bottles IV. Mr. Cuss interviews the Stranger V. The Burglary at the Vicarage VI. The Furniture that went mad VII. The Unveiling of the Stranger VIII. In Transit IX. Mr. Thomas Marvel X. Mr. Marvel’s Visit to Iping XI. In the “Coach and Horses” XII. The invisible Man loses his Temper XIII. Mr. Marvel discusses his Resignation XIV. At Port Stowe XV. The Man who was running XVI. In the “Jolly Cricketers” XVII. Dr. Kemp’s Visitor XVIII. The invisible Man sleeps XIX. Certain first Principles XX. At the House in Great Portland Street XXI. In Oxford Street XXII. In the Emporium XXIII. In Drury Lane XXIV. The Plan that failed XXV. The Hunting of the invisible Man XXVI. The Wicksteed Murder XXVII. The Siege of Kemp’s House XXVIII. The Hunter hunted The Epilogue

CHAPTER I. THE STRANGE MAN’S ARRIVAL

The stranger came early in February, one wintry day, through a biting wind and a driving snow, the last snowfall of the year, over the down, walking from Bramblehurst railway station, and carrying a little black portmanteau in his thickly gloved hand. He was wrapped up from head to foot, and the brim of his soft felt hat hid every inch of his face but the shiny tip of his nose; the snow had piled itself against his shoulders and chest, and added a white crest to the burden he carried. He staggered into the “Coach and Horses” more dead than alive, and flung his portmanteau down. “A fire,” he cried, “in the name of human charity! A room and a fire!” He stamped and shook the snow from off himself in the bar, and followed Mrs. Hall into her guest parlour to strike his bargain. And with that much introduction, that and a couple of sovereigns flung upon the table, he took up his quarters in the inn.

Mrs. Hall lit the fire and left him there while she went to prepare him a meal with her own hands. A guest to stop at Iping in the wintertime was an unheard-of piece of luck, let alone a guest who was no “haggler,” and she was resolved to show herself worthy of her good fortune. As soon as the bacon was well under way, and Millie, her lymphatic maid, had been brisked up a bit by a few deftly chosen expressions of contempt, she carried the cloth, plates, and glasses into the parlour and began to lay them with the utmost _éclat_. Although the fire was burning up briskly, she was surprised to see that her visitor still wore his hat and coat, standing with his back to her and staring out of the window at the falling snow in the yard. His gloved hands were clasped behind him, and he seemed to be lost in thought. She noticed that the melting snow that still sprinkled his shoulders dripped upon her carpet. “Can I take your hat and coat, sir?” she said, “and give them a good dry in the kitchen?”