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Invisible Man, The
Chapter XXIV - The Plan that failed
H.G.Wells
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       _ "But now," said Kemp, with a side glance out of the window, "what
       are we to do?"
       He moved nearer his guest as he spoke in such a manner as to
       prevent the possibility of a sudden glimpse of the three men who
       were advancing up the hill road--with an intolerable slowness, as
       it seemed to Kemp.
       "What were you planning to do when you were heading for Port
       Burdock? Had you any plan?"
       "I was going to clear out of the country. But I have altered that
       plan rather since seeing you. I thought it would be wise, now the
       weather is hot and invisibility possible, to make for the South.
       Especially as my secret was known, and everyone would be on the
       lookout for a masked and muffled man. You have a line of steamers
       from here to France. My idea was to get aboard one and run the
       risks of the passage. Thence I could go by train into Spain, or else
       get to Algiers. It would not be difficult. There a man might always
       be invisible--and yet live. And do things. I was using that tramp
       as a money box and luggage carrier, until I decided how to get my
       books and things sent over to meet me."
       "That's clear."
       "And then the filthy brute must needs try and rob me! He _has_ hidden
       my books, Kemp. Hidden my books! If I can lay my hands on him!"
       "Best plan to get the books out of him first."
       "But where is he? Do you know?"
       "He's in the town police station, locked up, by his own request, in
       the strongest cell in the place."
       "Cur!" said the Invisible Man.
       "But that hangs up your plans a little."
       "We must get those books; those books are vital."
       "Certainly," said Kemp, a little nervously, wondering if he heard
       footsteps outside. "Certainly we must get those books. But that
       won't be difficult, if he doesn't know they're for you."
       "No," said the Invisible Man, and thought.
       Kemp tried to think of something to keep the talk going, but the
       Invisible Man resumed of his own accord.
       "Blundering into your house, Kemp," he said, "changes all my plans.
       For you are a man that can understand. In spite of all that has
       happened, in spite of this publicity, of the loss of my books, of
       what I have suffered, there still remain great possibilities, huge
       possibilities--"
       "You have told no one I am here?" he asked abruptly.
       Kemp hesitated. "That was implied," he said.
       "No one?" insisted Griffin.
       "Not a soul."
       "Ah! Now--" The Invisible Man stood up, and sticking his arms akimbo
       began to pace the study.
       "I made a mistake, Kemp, a huge mistake, in carrying this thing
       through alone. I have wasted strength, time, opportunities. Alone--it
       is wonderful how little a man can do alone! To rob a little,
       to hurt a little, and there is the end.
       "What I want, Kemp, is a goal-keeper, a helper, and a hiding-place,
       an arrangement whereby I can sleep and eat and rest in peace, and
       unsuspected. I must have a confederate. With a confederate, with
       food and rest--a thousand things are possible.
       "Hitherto I have gone on vague lines. We have to consider all that
       invisibility means, all that it does not mean. It means little
       advantage for eavesdropping and so forth--one makes sounds. It's
       of little help--a little help perhaps--in housebreaking and so
       forth. Once you've caught me you could easily imprison me. But on
       the other hand I am hard to catch. This invisibility, in fact, is
       only good in two cases: It's useful in getting away, it's useful in
       approaching. It's particularly useful, therefore, in killing. I can
       walk round a man, whatever weapon he has, choose my point, strike
       as I like. Dodge as I like. Escape as I like."
       Kemp's hand went to his moustache. Was that a movement
       downstairs?
       "And it is killing we must do, Kemp."
       "It is killing we must do," repeated Kemp. "I'm listening to your
       plan, Griffin, but I'm not agreeing, mind. _Why_ killing?"
       "Not wanton killing, but a judicious slaying. The point is, they
       know there is an Invisible Man--as well as we know there is an
       Invisible Man. And that Invisible Man, Kemp, must now establish a
       Reign of Terror. Yes; no doubt it's startling. But I mean it. A
       Reign of Terror. He must take some town like your Burdock and
       terrify and dominate it. He must issue his orders. He can do that
       in a thousand ways--scraps of paper thrust under doors would
       suffice. And all who disobey his orders he must kill, and kill
       all who would defend them."
       "Humph!" said Kemp, no longer listening to Griffin but to the sound
       of his front door opening and closing.
       "It seems to me, Griffin," he said, to cover his wandering
       attention, "that your confederate would be in a difficult
       position."
       "No one would know he was a confederate," said the Invisible Man,
       eagerly. And then suddenly, "Hush! What's that downstairs?"
       "Nothing," said Kemp, and suddenly began to speak loud and fast.
       "I don't agree to this, Griffin," he said. "Understand me, I don't
       agree to this. Why dream of playing a game against the race? How
       can you hope to gain happiness? Don't be a lone wolf. Publish
       your results; take the world--take the nation at least--into your
       confidence. Think what you might do with a million helpers--"
       The Invisible Man interrupted--arm extended. "There are
       footsteps coming upstairs," he said in a low voice.
       "Nonsense," said Kemp.
       "Let me see," said the Invisible Man, and advanced, arm extended,
       to the door.
       And then things happened very swiftly. Kemp hesitated for a second
       and then moved to intercept him. The Invisible Man started and stood
       still. "Traitor!" cried the Voice, and suddenly the dressing-gown
       opened, and sitting down the Unseen began to disrobe. Kemp made
       three swift steps to the door, and forthwith the Invisible Man--his
       legs had vanished--sprang to his feet with a shout. Kemp flung the
       door open.
       As it opened, there came a sound of hurrying feet downstairs and
       voices.
       With a quick movement Kemp thrust the Invisible Man back, sprang
       aside, and slammed the door. The key was outside and ready. In
       another moment Griffin would have been alone in the belvedere
       study, a prisoner. Save for one little thing. The key had been
       slipped in hastily that morning. As Kemp slammed the door it fell
       noisily upon the carpet.
       Kemp's face became white. He tried to grip the door handle with
       both hands. For a moment he stood lugging. Then the door gave six
       inches. But he got it closed again. The second time it was jerked a
       foot wide, and the dressing-gown came wedging itself into the
       opening. His throat was gripped by invisible fingers, and he left
       his hold on the handle to defend himself. He was forced back,
       tripped and pitched heavily into the corner of the landing. The
       empty dressing-gown was flung on the top of him.
       Halfway up the staircase was Colonel Adye, the recipient of Kemp's
       letter, the chief of the Burdock police. He was staring aghast at
       the sudden appearance of Kemp, followed by the extraordinary sight
       of clothing tossing empty in the air. He saw Kemp felled, and
       struggling to his feet. He saw him rush forward, and go down again,
       felled like an ox.
       Then suddenly he was struck violently. By nothing! A vast weight,
       it seemed, leapt upon him, and he was hurled headlong down the
       staircase, with a grip on his throat and a knee in his groin. An
       invisible foot trod on his back, a ghostly patter passed downstairs,
       he heard the two police officers in the hall shout and run, and the
       front door of the house slammed violently.
       He rolled over and sat up staring. He saw, staggering down the
       staircase, Kemp, dusty and disheveled, one side of his face white
       from a blow, his lip bleeding, and a pink dressing-gown and some
       underclothing held in his arms.
       "My God!" cried Kemp, "the game's up! He's gone!" _