Читаем The Invisible Man полностью

“That I wonder where you found it,” said Mrs. Hall. “And before I take any bills, or get any breakfasts, or do any such things whatsoever, you got to tell me one or two things I don’t understand, and what nobody don’t understand, and what everybody is very anxious to understand. I want know what you been doing t’my chair upstairs, and I want know how ’tis your room was empty and how you got in again? Them as stops in this house comes in by the doors—that’s the rule of this house, and that you didn’t do, and what I want know is how you did come. And I want know—"

Suddenly the stranger raised his gloved hands clenched, stamped his foot, and said. “Stop!” with such extraordinary violence that he silenced her instantly.

“You don’t understand,” he said, “who I am or what I am. I’ll show you. By heaven! I’ll show you.” Then he put his open palm over his face and withdrew it. The centre of his face became a black cavity. “Here,” he said. He stepped forward and handed Mrs. Hall something which she, staring at his metamorphosed face, accepted automatically. Then, when she saw what it was, she screamed loudly, dropped it, and staggered back. The nose—it was the stranger’s nose! pink and shining—rolled on the floor with a sound of hollow cardboard.

Then he removed his spectacles, and every one in the bar gasped. He took off his hat, and with a violent gesture tore at his whiskers and bandages. For a moment they resisted him. A flash of horrible anticipation passed through the bar. “Oh, my Gard!” said some one. Then off they came.

It was worse than anything. Mrs. Hall, standing open–mouthed and horror–struck, shrieked at what she saw, and made for the door of the house. Every one began to move. They were prepared for scars, disfigurement, tangible horrors—but nothing! The bandages and false hair flew across the passage into the bar, making a hobbledehoy jump to avoid them. Every one tumbled on every one else down the steps. For the man who stood there shouting some incoherent explanation was a solid, gesticulating figure up to the coat–collar of him, and then—nothingness, no visible thing at all!

People down the village heard shouts and shrieks, and looking up the street saw the “Coach and Horses” violently firing out its humanity.10 They saw Mrs. Hall fall down, and Mr. Teddy Henfrey jump to avoid tumbling over her, and then they heard the frightful screams of Millie, who, emerging suddenly from the kitchen at the noise of the tumult, had come upon the headless stranger from behind. These ceased suddenly.

Forthwith every one all the way down the street—the sweetstuff–seller, cocoanut–shy proprietor and his assistant, the swing man,11 little boys and girls, rustic dandies, smart wenches, smocked elders, and aproned gipsies—11 began running towards the inn, and in a miraculously short space of time a crowd of perhaps forty people, and rapidly increasing, swayed, and hooted, and inquired, and exclaimed, and suggested in front of Mrs. Hall’s establishment. Everybody seemed eager to talk at once, and the result was Babel.12 A small group supported Mrs. Hall, who was picked up in a state of collapse. There was a confusion, and the incredible evidence of a vociferous eye–witness. “O Bogie!” “What’s he been doin’, then?” “Ain’t hurt the girl, ’as ’e?”13 “Run at en with a knife,14 I believe.” “No ’ed, I tell ye. I don’t mean no manner of speaking, I mean Marn ’ithout a ’Ed!”15 “Narnsense! ’tis some conjuring trick.” “Fetched off ’is wrappings, ’e did—”

In its struggles to see in through the open door the crowd formed itself into a struggling wedge, with the more adventurous apex nearest the inn. “He stood for a moment, I heerd the gal scream, and he turned. I saw her skirts whisk, and he went after her. Didn’t take ten seconds. Back he comes with a knife in his hand and a loaf, stood just as if he was staring. Not a moment ago. Went in that there door. I tell ’e, ’e ain’t gart no ’ed ’tall.16 You just missed en—”

There was a disturbance behind, and the speaker stopped to step aside for a little procession that was marching very resolutely towards the house; first Mr. Hall, very red and determined, then Mr. Bobby Jaffers, the village constable, and then the wary Mr. Wadgers. They had come now armed with a warrant.

People shouted conflicting information of the recent circumstances. “’Ed or no ’ed,” said Jaffers. “I got to ’rest en,17 and ’rest en I will.”

Mr. Hall marched up the steps, marched straight to the door of the parlour and found it open. “Constable,” he said, “do your duty.”

Jaffers marched in, Hall next, Wadgers last. They saw in the dim light the headless figure facing them, with a gnawed crust of bread in one gloved hand and a chunk of cheese in the other.

“That’s him,” said Hall.

“What the devil’s this?” came in a tone of angry expostulation from above the collar of the figure.

“You’re a darmed rum customer, mister,” said Mr. Jaffers. “But ’ed or no ’ed, the warrant says ‘body,’18 and duty’s duty—”