As he went down, the rush from the direction of the village green

came round the corner. The first to appear was the proprietor of

the cocoanut shy, a burly man in a blue jersey. He was astonished

to see the lane empty save for three men sprawling absurdly on the

ground. And then something happened to his rear-most foot, and he

went headlong and rolled sideways just in time to graze the feet

of his brother and partner, following headlong. The two were then

kicked, knelt on, fallen over, and cursed by quite a number of

over-hasty people.

Now when Hall and Henfrey and the labourers ran out of the house,

Mrs. Hall, who had been disciplined by years of experience,

remained in the bar next the till. And suddenly the parlour door

was opened, and Mr. Cuss appeared, and without glancing at her

rushed at once down the steps toward the corner. "Hold him!" he

cried. "Don't let him drop that parcel."

He knew nothing of the

existence of Marvel. For the Invisible Man had handed over the

books and bundle in the yard. The face of Mr. Cuss was angry and

resolute, but his costume was defective, a sort of limp white kilt

that could only have passed muster in Greece. "Hold him!" he

bawled. "He's got my trousers! And every stitch of the Vicar's

clothes!"

"'Tend to him in a minute!" he cried to Henfrey as he passed the

The Invisible Man