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The Invisible Man
Chapter 12. MR. MARVEL DISCUSSES HIS RESIGNATION
The evening was getting dark, Iping nervously looked out again at the broken mess of its holiday.
A short, heavy man in a cheap silk hat walked painfully through the twilight.
He was behind the beech trees on the road to Bramblehurst.
He carried three books tied together with some kind of pretty elastic band, and a bundle wrapped in a blue tablecloth.
His red face showed fear and tiredness, he seemed to be in a sudden kind of hurry.
He was with a voice that wasn't his own, and again and again he moved away from the touch of unseen hands.
"If you try to get away from me again," said the Voice, "if you try to get away from me again, "
"Lord!" said Mr. Marvel.
"That shoulder's already full of bruises."
"On my honour," said the Voice, "I'll kill you."
"I didn't try to get away," said Marvel, in a voice that was almost crying.
"I swear I didn't."
"I didn't know the blessed turn, that was all!"
"How was I supposed to know the blessed turn?"
"As it's, I've been knocked about,"
"You'll get knocked about a lot more if you're not careful," said the Voice, and Mr. Marvel suddenly became quiet.
He blew out his cheeks, and his eyes showed complete hopelessness.
It's bad enough to let these stupid country people discover my little secret without you running off with my books.
"It's lucky some of them ran away when they did, because no one knew I was invisible and now what am I going to do?" said the Voice.
"It's lucky some of them ran away when they did, because no one knew I was invisible and now what am I going to do?" said the Voice.
"What am I going to do?" asked Marvel, quietly.
"It's all out."
"It'll be in the newspapers!"
"Everyone will be looking for me, everyone will be careful," The Voice stopped and started swearing loudly, then went quiet.
The hopeless look on Mr. Marvel's face grew deeper, and he walked more slowly.
"Go on!" said the Voice.
Mr. Marvel's face turned a grey color between the redder patches.
"Don't drop those books, stupid," said the Voice, sharply, catching up with him.
"The fact is," said the Voice, "I'm going to have to use you. You're a poor tool, but I must."
"I'm a miserable tool," said Marvel.
"You're," said the Voice.
"I'm the worst possible tool you could have," said Marvel.
"I'm not strong," he said after a discouraging silence.
"I'm not very strong," he repeated.
"No?"
"And my heart's weak. That little business. I got through it, of course, but bless you! I could have dropped."
"Well?"
"I don't have the nerve or strength for the kind of thing you want."
"I'll push you."
"I wish you wouldn't. I wouldn't want to mess up your plans, you know. But I might, out of pure fear and misery."
"You'd better not," said the Voice, with quiet force.
"I wish I was dead," said Marvel.
"It's not fair," he said, "you have to admit. It seems to me I have a perfect right, "
"Go on!" said the Voice.
Mr. Marvel walked faster, and for a while they went in silence again.
"It's terribly hard," said Mr. Marvel.
This did nothing, he tried a different way.
"What do I get from it?" he began again in a tone of great unfairness.
"Oh! shut up!" said the Voice, with sudden amazing strength.
"I'll take care of you. You do what you're told. You'll do it fine. You're a fool and all that, but you'll do, "
"I tell you, sir, I'm not the man for it. Respectfully, but it's true, "
"If you don't shut up I'll twist your wrist again," said the Invisible Man.
"I want to think."
Soon two rectangles of yellow light appeared through the trees, and the square tower of a church appeared through the evening darkness.
"I'll keep my hand on your shoulder," said the Voice.
"All through the village. Go straight through and try no tricks. It'll be worse for you if you do."
"I know that," sighed Mr. Marvel, "I know all that."
The unhappy-looking figure in the old-fashioned silk hat walked up the street of the little village with his things.
He disappeared into the growing darkness beyond the lights of the windows.