“I won’t argue again,” said Cuss. “We’ve discussed all that already, Bunting. And now there are these books. Ah! Greek letters certainly.”
He pointed to the middle of the page. Mr. Bunting flushed slightly and brought his face nearer, apparently finding some difficulty with his glasses. Suddenly he felt a strange feeling at the nape of his neck. He tried to raise his head, and encountered an immovable resistance. The feeling was a curious pressure: a heavy, firm hand bore his chin to the table.
“Don’t move, gentlemen” whispered a voice.
Mr. Bunting looked into the face of Cuss, and saw a reflection of his own astonishment.
“I’m sorry to treat you like this,” said the Voice, “but it’s unavoidable. Since when did you learn to pry into an investigator’s private memoranda?”
Two chins struck the table simultaneously, and two sets of teeth rattled.
“Where have they put my clothes? Listen,” said the Voice. “The windows are fastened and I’ve taken the key out of the door. I am a strong man, and I have the poker-besides being invisible. There’s not the slightest doubt that I could kill you both and get away quite easily if I wanted to-do you understand? Very well. If I let you go, will you promise not to try any nonsense and do what I tell you?”
The vicar and the doctor looked at one another.
“Yes,” said Mr. Bunting, and the doctor repeated it.
Then the pressure on the necks relaxed, and the doctor and the vicar sat up, both very red in the face and wriggling their heads.
“Please keep sitting where you are,” said the Invisible Man. “Here’s the poker, you see.”
“When I came into this room,” continued the Invisible Man, after presenting the poker to the tip of the nose of each of his visitors, “I did not expect to find it occupied, and I expected to find, in addition to my books of memoranda, my clothing. Where is it? No-don’t rise. I can see it’s gone. Though the days are warm enough for an invisible man, the evenings are quite chilly. I want clothing-and I must also have those three books.”