The Invisible Man (Sci-Fi Classic). H. G. Wells

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       H. G. Wells

      The Invisible Man

      (Sci-Fi Classic)

       A Science Fiction Classic from the English futurist, historian, author of The Time Machine, The Island of Doctor Moreau, The War of the Worlds, The First Men in the Moon, The Outline of History…

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       [email protected] 2017 OK Publishing ISBN 978-80-7583-402-7

      Table of Contents

       Chapter I. The Strange Man’s Arrival

       Chapter II. Mr. Teddy Henfrey’s First Impressions

       Chapter III. The Thousand and One Bottles

       Chapter IV. Mr. Cuss Interviews the Stranger

       Chapter V. The Burglary at the Vicarage

       Chapter VI. The Furniture that Went Mad

       Chapter VII. The Unveiling of the Stranger

       Chapter VIII. In Transit

       Chapter IX. Mr. Thomas Marvel

       Chapter X. Mr. Marvel’s Visit to Iping

       Chapter XI. In the “Coach and Horses”

       Chapter XII. The Invisible Man Loses His Temper

       Chapter XIII. Mr. Marvel Discusses His Resignation

       Chapter XIV. At Port Stowe

       Chapter XV. The Man Who was Running

       Chapter XVI. In the “Jolly Cricketers”

       Chapter XVII. Dr. Kemp’s Visitor

       Chapter XVIII. The Invisible Man Sleeps

       Chapter XIX. Certain First Principles

       Chapter XX. At the House in Great Portland Street

       Chapter XXI. In Oxford Street

       Chapter XXII. In the Emporium

       Chapter XXIII. In Drury Lane

       Chapter XXIV. The Plan that Failed

       Chapter XXV. The Hunting of the Invisible Man

       Chapter XXVI. The Wicksteed Murder

       Chapter XXVII. The Siege of Kemp’s House

       Chapter XXVIII. The Hunter Hunted

      CHAPTER I

       THE STRANGE MAN’S ARRIVAL

       Table of Contents

      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 aid, 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?”

      “No,” he said without turning.

      She was not sure she had heard him, and was about to repeat her question.

      He turned his head and looked at her over his shoulder. “I prefer to keep them on,” he said with emphasis, and she noticed that he wore big blue spectacles with sidelights, and had a bush side-whisker over his coat-collar that completely hid his cheeks and face.

      “Very well, sir,” she said. “As you like. In a bit the room will be warmer.”

      He made no answer, and had turned his face away from her again, and Mrs. Hall, feeling that her conversational advances were illtimed, laid the rest of the table things in a quick staccato and whisked out of the room. When she returned he was still standing there, like a man of stone, his back hunched, his collar turned up, his dripping hat-brim turned down, hiding his face and ears completely. She put down the eggs and bacon with considerable