The Invisible Man HTML version

Certain First Principles
"What's the matter?" asked Kemp, when the Invisible Man admitted him.
"Nothing," was the answer.
"But, confound it! The smash?"
"Fit of temper," said the Invisible Man. "Forgot this arm; and it's sore."
"You're rather liable to that sort of thing."
"I am."
Kemp walked across the room and picked up the fragments of broken glass. "All the
facts are out about you," said Kemp, standing up with the glass in his hand; "all that
happened in Iping, and down the hill. The world has become aware of its invisible
citizen. But no one knows you are here."
The Invisible Man swore.
"The secret's out. I gather it was a secret. I don't know what your plans are, but of
course I'm anxious to help you."
The Invisible Man sat down on the bed.
"There's breakfast upstairs," said Kemp, speaking as easily as possible, and he was
delighted to find his strange guest rose willingly. Kemp led the way up the narrow
staircase to the belvedere.
"Before we can do anything else," said Kemp, "I must understand a little more about
this invisibility of yours." He had sat down, after one nervous glance out of the window,
with the air of a man who has talking to do. His doubts of the sanity of the entire business
flashed and vanished again as he looked across to where Griffin sat at the breakfast-table,
-- a headless, handless dressing-gown, wiping unseen lips on a miraculously held
"It's simple enough -- and credible enough," said Griffin, putting the serviette aside
and leaning the invisible head on an invisible hand.
"No doubt, to you, but -- " Kemp laughed.
"Well, yes; to me it seemed wonderful at first, no doubt. But now, great God! -- But
we will do great things yet! I came on the stuff first at Chesilstowe."