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The Invisible Man
Chapter 9. MR. MARVEL'S VISIT TO IPING
After the first sudden panic had ended, Iping became full of arguments.
Scepticism suddenly appeared - rather nervous scepticism, not at all sure of itself, but scepticism anyway.
It's so much easier not to believe in an invisible man.
And those who saw him disappear into the air, or felt the strength of his arm, could be counted on two hands.
And of these witnesses, Mr. Wadgers was soon missing.
He had locked himself safely behind the bolts and bars of his own house.
Jaffers was lying unconscious in the parlour of the "Coach and Horses."
Great and strange ideas beyond normal experience often have less effect on people than smaller, more real concerns.
Iping was bright with flags, and everyone was in holiday clothes.
Whit Monday had been looked forward to for a month or more.
By the afternoon, even those who believed in the Unseen were beginning to return to their small amusements in a careful way.
They supposed that he had gone away completely.
And with the sceptics, he was already a joke.
But people, sceptics and believers alike, were very friendly all that day.
Haysman's meadow was bright with a tent.
In it, Mrs. Bunting and other ladies were preparing tea.
Outside, the Sunday-school children ran races and played games under the noisy direction of the curate and the Misses Cuss and Sackbut.
No doubt there was a slight uneasiness in the air, but most people had the sense to hide whatever strange fears they felt.
On the village green, a strong rope was set at an angle.
You could hold a handle that slid along it and be thrown violently against a sack at the other end.
This was very popular among the young people.
So were the swings and the coconut throws.
People walked about, and the steam organ on a roundabout filled the air with a strong smell of oil and loud music.
Members of the club, who had gone to church in the morning, looked splendid in badges of pink and green.
Some of the happier ones had also decorated their bowler hats with bright-coloured ribbons.
Old Fletcher, who had strict ideas about holidays, could be seen through the jasmine around his window or the open door.
He was balanced carefully on a plank held up by two chairs, whitewashing the ceiling of his front room.
About four o'clock, a stranger entered the village from the direction of the downs.
He was a short, fat person in a very shabby top hat, and he seemed to be very out of breath.
His cheeks were sometimes soft and sometimes tightly puffed.
His spotted face looked worried, and he moved with a kind of unwilling speed.
He turned the corner of the church and went towards the "Coach and Horses." Among others, old Fletcher remembered seeing him.
In fact, the old gentleman was so struck by his strange nervousness that he let much whitewash run down the brush.
It ran into the sleeve of his coat while he looked at him.
This stranger, to the eyes of the owner of the coconut throw, seemed to be talking to himself.
Mr. Huxter noticed the same thing.
He stopped at the bottom of the "Coach and Horses" steps.
According to Mr. Huxter, he seemed to have a great inner struggle before he could make himself enter the house.
Finally, he walked up the steps.
Mr. Huxter saw him turn to the left and open the door of the parlour.
Mr. Huxter heard voices from inside the room and from the bar telling the man of his mistake.
"That room's private!" said Hall.
The stranger shut the door clumsily and went into the bar.
After a few minutes, he came out again.
He wiped his lips with the back of his hand with an air of quiet satisfaction.
Somehow this struck Mr. Huxter as false.
He stood looking around him for a few moments.
Then Mr. Huxter saw him walk in a strangely secretive way towards the gates of the yard.
The parlour window opened onto this yard.
After some hesitation, the stranger leaned against one of the gate posts.
He took out a short clay pipe and prepared to fill it.
His fingers shook while he did this.
He lit it clumsily, then he folded his arms and began to smoke in a lazy manner.
But his occasional glances up the yard showed that he wasn't really lazy at all.
Mr. Huxter saw all this over the canisters in the tobacco window.
The strangeness of the man's behaviour made him keep watching.
Soon the stranger stood up suddenly and put his pipe in his pocket.
Then he disappeared into the yard.
Right away, Mr. Huxter thought he was seeing some small theft.
He jumped around his counter and ran out into the road to catch the thief.
As he did so, Mr. Marvel came out again.
His hat was crooked, he had a big bundle in a blue tablecloth in one hand.
In the other hand, he had three books tied together - as it turned out later, with the Vicar's braces.
As soon as he saw Huxter, he gave a kind of gasp.
He turned sharply to the left and began to run.
"Stop, thief!" cried Huxter, and he ran after him.
Mr. Huxter's feelings were strong but short.
He saw the man just ahead of him, running quickly towards the church corner and the hill road.
He saw the village flags and festivities beyond, and a face or two turned towards him.
He shouted, "Stop!" again.
He had hardly gone ten steps before his shin was caught in some mysterious way.
He was no longer running, but flying through the air with unbelievable speed.
He saw the ground suddenly come close to his face.
The world seemed to break into a million spinning spots of light.
And what happened after that no longer interested him.