manner, "the thing had to be done. You were in a fix. But still--"

"Of course I was in a fix--an infernal fix. And he made me wild

too--hunting me about the house, fooling about with his revolver,

locking and unlocking doors. He was simply exasperating. You don't

blame me, do you? You don't blame me?"

I never blame anyone," said Kemp. "It's quite out of fashion. What

did you do next?"

"I was hungry. Downstairs I found a loaf and some rank cheese--more

than sufficient to satisfy my hunger. I took some brandy and

water, and then went up past my impromptu bag--he was lying quite

still--to the room containing the old clothes. This looked out

upon the street, two lace curtains brown with dirt guarding the

window. I went and peered out through their interstices. Outside

the day was bright--by contrast with the brown shadows of the

dismal house in which I found myself, dazzlingly bright. A brisk

traffic was going by, fruit carts, a hansom, a four-wheeler with a

pile of boxes, a fishmonger's cart. I turned with spots of colour

swimming before my eyes to the shadowy fixtures behind me. My

excitement was giving place to a clear apprehension of my position

again. The room was full of a faint scent of benzoline, used, I

suppose, in cleaning the garments.

I began a systematic search of the place. I should judge the

The Invisible Man