clothes as I should have done. I had made up my mind, I suppose, to

get away in them, and that ruled me. And then down the vista of the

counters came a bawling of 'Here he is!'

"I sprang to my feet, whipped a chair off the counter, and sent it

whirling at the fool who had shouted, turned, came into another

round a corner, sent him spinning, and rushed up the stairs. He

kept his footing, gave a view hallo, and came up the staircase hot

after me. Up the staircase were piled a multitude of those

bright-coloured pot things--what are they?"

"Art pots," suggested Kemp.

That's it! Art pots. Well, I turned at the top step and swung

round, plucked one out of a pile and smashed it on his silly head

as he came at me. The whole pile of pots went headlong, and I heard

shouting and footsteps running from all parts. I made a mad rush

for the refreshment place, and there was a man in white like a man

cook, who took up the chase. I made one last desperate turn and

found myself among lamps and ironmongery. I went behind the counter

of this, and waited for my cook, and as he bolted in at the head of

the chase, I doubled him up with a lamp. Down he went, and I

crouched down behind the counter and began whipping off my clothes

as fast as I could. Coat, jacket, trousers, shoes were all right,

but a lambswool vest fits a man like a skin. I heard more men

coming, my cook was lying quiet on the other side of the counter,

179

The Invisible Man