CHAPTER XXVI

THE WICKSTEED MURDER

The Invisible Man seems to have rushed out of Kemp's house in a

state of blind fury. A little child playing near Kemp's gateway was

violently caught up and thrown aside, so that its ankle was broken,

and thereafter for some hours the Invisible Man passed out of human

perceptions. No one knows where he went nor what he did. But one

can imagine him hurrying through the hot June forenoon, up the

hill and on to the open downland behind Port Burdock, raging and

despairing at his intolerable fate, and sheltering at last, heated

and weary, amid the thickets of Hintondean, to piece together again

his shattered schemes against his species. That seems to most

probable refuge for him, for there it was he re-asserted himself in

a grimly tragical manner about two in the afternoon.

One wonders what his state of mind may have been during that time,

and what plans he devised. No doubt he was almost ecstatically

exasperated by Kemp's treachery, and though we may be able to

understand the motives that led to that deceit, we may still

imagine and even sympathise a little with the fury the attempted

surprise must have occasioned. Perhaps something of the stunned

astonishment of his Oxford Street experiences may have returned to

him, for he had evidently counted on Kemp's co-operation in his

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