Read the chapter
The Invisible Man
Chapter 15. IN THE "JOLLY CRICKETERS"
The "Jolly Cricketers" is just at the bottom of the hill, where the tram-lines begin.
The barman leaned his fat red arms on the counter.
He talked of horses with a pale cabman.
A black-bearded man in grey ate biscuit and cheese.
He drank Burton and talked in American with a policeman who wasn't on duty.
"What's the shouting about!" said the pale cabman, trying to see up the hill over the dirty yellow blind in the inn's low window.
Somebody ran by outside, out of breath and shouting, feet splashing in the wet street.
"Fire, perhaps," said the barman.
Footsteps came closer, running heavily, the door was pushed open hard.
Marvel rushed in, crying and messy, his hat gone.
The neck of his coat was torn open.
He made a shaking turn and tried to shut the door.
It was held half open by a strap.
"Coming!" he shouted, his voice screaming with fear.
"He's coming. The Invisible Man! After me! For God's sake! Help! Help! Help!"
"Shut the doors," said the policeman.
"Who's coming? What's the trouble?" He went to the door, let go of the strap, and it slammed.
The American closed the other door.
"Let me go inside," said Marvel, walking unsteadily and crying, but still holding the books.
"Let me go inside."
"Lock me in somewhere."
"I tell you he's after me."
"I got away from him."
"He said he'd kill me and he'll."
"You're safe," said the man with the black beard.
"The door's shut. What's it all about?"
"Let me go inside," said Marvel, and he screamed as a blow made the locked door shake, followed by quick knocking and a shout outside.
"Hello," cried the policeman, "who's there?" Mr. Marvel began to make wild moves toward panels that looked like doors.
"He'll kill me he's got a knife or something. For God's sake!"
"Here you're," said the barman.
"Come in here." And he lifted up the flap of the bar.
Mr. Marvel rushed behind the bar as the call outside was repeated.
"Don't open the door," he screamed.
"Please don't open the door. Where shall I hide?"
"This, this Invisible Man, then?" asked the man with the black beard, with one hand behind him.
"I guess it's about time we saw him."
The window of the inn was suddenly broken in, and there was screaming and running back and forth in the street.
The policeman had been standing on the seat looking out, trying to see who was at the door.
He got down with raised eyebrows.
"It's that," he said.
The barman stood before the bar-parlour door locked on Mr. Marvel, stared at the broken window, and went to the two men.
Everything was suddenly quiet, and the men stood listening in the dark street.
"I wish I had my stick," said the policeman, going uncertainly to the door.
"Once we open, in he comes. There's no stopping him."
"Don't be in too much hurry about that door," said the pale cabman, worriedly.
"Pull the bolts," said the man with the black beard, "and if he comes" He showed a gun in his hand.
"That won't do," said the policeman, "that's murder."
"I know what country I'm in," said the man with the beard.
"I'm going to shoot at his legs. Pull the bolts."
"Not with that thing going off behind me," said the barman, looking over the blind.
"Very well," said the man with the black beard, and bending down, gun ready, pulled them himself.
Barman, cabman, and policeman turned around.
"Come in," said the bearded man in a low voice, standing back and facing the unbolted doors with his gun behind him.
No one came in, the door stayed closed.
Five minutes later a second cabman pushed his head in, they waited, and a worried face looked from the bar-parlour and spoke.
"Are all the doors of the house shut?" asked Marvel.
"He's going around walking around. He's as clever as the devil."
"Good Lord!" said the big barman.
"There's the back! Just watch those doors! I say!" He looked around him helplessly.
The bar-parlour door slammed and they heard the key turn.
"There's the yard door and the private door. The yard door"
He rushed out of the bar.
In a minute he came back with a carving-knife in his hand.
"The yard door was open!" he said, and his fat lower lip dropped.
"He may be in the house now!" said the first cabman.
"He's not in the kitchen," said the barman.
"There's two women there, and I've checked every inch of it with this little beef slicer."
"And they don't think he's come in."
"They haven't noticed"
"Have you locked it?" asked the first cabman.
"I'm out of luck," said the barman.
The man with the beard put his gun away.
The flap of the bar was shut down.
The bolt clicked, then, with a huge thud, the door catch broke, the bar-parlour door burst open.
They heard Marvel scream like a caught rabbit, and right away they were climbing over the bar to save him.
The bearded man's gun fired and the mirror at the back of the parlour cracked and came smashing and tinkling down.
As the barman entered the room he saw Marvel, strangely bent up and struggling against the door that led to the yard and kitchen.
The door flew open while the barman waited, and Marvel was pulled into the kitchen.
There was a scream and a noise of pans.
Marvel, head down, and pulling back stubbornly, was forced to the kitchen door, and the bolts were pulled.
The policeman had been trying to get past the barman.
He rushed in, followed by one of the cabmen.
He grabbed the wrist of the invisible hand that held Marvel.
Then he was hit in the face and went falling back.
The door opened, and Marvel made a wild effort to get behind it, then the cabman grabbed something.
"I got him," said the cabman.
The barman's red hands came grabbing at the unseen.
"Here he's!" said the barman.
Mr. Marvel, let go, suddenly dropped to the ground and tried to crawl behind the legs of the fighting men.
The struggle moved around the edge of the door.
The voice of the Invisible Man was heard for the first time, shouting out sharply, as the policeman stepped on his foot.
Then he cried out angrily and his fists flew around like sticks.
The cabman suddenly yelled and bent over, kicked under the stomach.
The door into the bar-parlour from the kitchen slammed and covered Mr. Marvel's escape.
The men in the kitchen found themselves grabbing at and struggling with empty air.
"Where's he gone?" cried the man with the beard.
"Out?"
"This way," said the policeman, stepping into the yard and stopping.
A piece of tile flew past his head and broke among the dishes on the kitchen table.
"I'll show him," shouted the man with the black beard.
"A steel barrel suddenly shone over the policeman's shoulder, and five bullets followed into the darkness where the tile had come from."
He fired and moved his hand in a flat curve.
His shots spread across the narrow yard like spokes of a wheel.
A silence followed, and the men stared into the dark yard, waiting.
"Five bullets," said the man with the black beard.
"That's the best of all. Four aces and a joker. Get a lantern, someone, and come and feel around for his body."