demand a subscription for that Nurse Fund. He'd stuck his hands in

his pockets as I came in, and he sat down lumpily in his chair.

Sniffed. I told him I'd heard he took an interest in scientific

things. He said yes. Sniffed again. Kept on sniffing all the time;

evidently recently caught an infernal cold. No wonder, wrapped up

like that! I developed the nurse idea, and all the while kept my

eyes open. Bottles--chemicals--everywhere. Balance, test-tubes

in stands, and a smell of--evening primrose. Would he subscribe?

Said he'd consider it. Asked him, point-blank, was he researching.

Said he was. A long research? Got quite cross. 'A damnable long

research,' said he, blowing the cork out, so to speak. 'Oh,' said

I. And out came the grievance. The man was just on the boil, and my

question boiled him over. He had been given a prescription, most

valuable prescription--what for he wouldn't say. Was it medical?

'Damn you! What are you fishing after?' I apologised. Dignified

sniff and cough. He resumed. He'd read it. Five ingredients. Put it

down; turned his head. Draught of air from window lifted the paper.

Swish, rustle. He was working in a room with an open fireplace, he

said. Saw a flicker, and there was the prescription burning and

lifting chimneyward. Rushed towards it just as it whisked up the

chimney. So! Just at that point, to illustrate his story, out came

his arm."

Well?"

No hand--just an empty sleeve. Lord! I thought, that's a

The Invisible Man