Человек-невидимка / The Invisible Man + аудиоприложение

Cuss, the general practitioner, was devoured by curiosity. The bandages excited his professional interest, the report of the thousand and one bottles aroused his jealous regard. All through April and May he coveted an opportunity of talking to the stranger, and at last, went to the “Coach and Horses”. He was surprised to find that Mrs. Hall did not know his guest’s name.

“He gave his name,” said Mrs. Hall, “but I didn’t rightly hear it.”

She was ashamed.

Cuss rapped at the parlour door and entered. “Pardon my intrusion,” said Cuss, and then the door closed.

Mrs. Hall could hear the murmur of voices for the next ten minutes, then a cry of surprise, a chair flung aside, a laughter, quick steps to the door, and Cuss appeared, his face white, his eyes huge. He left the door open behind him, and without looking at her strode across the hall and went down the steps, and she heard his feet hurrying along the road. He carried his hat in his hand. She stood behind the door, looking at the open door of the parlour.

Then she heard the strange laughing, and then footsteps came across the room. She could not see his face where she stood. The parlour door slammed, and the place was silent again.

Cuss went straight up the village to Bunting the vicar.

“Am I mad?” Cuss began abruptly, as he entered the shabby little study. “Do I look like an insane person?”

“What’s happened?” said the vicar.

“That chap at the inn-”

“Well?”

“Give me something to drink,” said Cuss, and he sat down.

Then told the vicar of the interview he had just had.

“I went in,” he gasped, “he had his hands in his pockets as I came in, and he sat down in his chair. I told him I’d heard he took an interest in science. He said yes. Then he sniffed. I kept my eyes open. Bottles-chemicals-everywhere. Balance, test-tubes, and a smell of evening primrose. I asked him if he was researching. He said he was. A long research? ‘A damnable long research,’ said he. ‘Oh,’ said I. He had been given a prescription, most valuable prescription-what for he wouldn’t say.

Was it medical? ‘Damn you! That’s none of your business!’ I apologised. He read the prescription. Five ingredients. He put it down and turned his head. Draught of air from window lifted the paper. He was working in a room with an open fireplace. I saw a flicker, and there was the prescription burning and lifting chimney ward. He rushed towards it just as it whisked up the chimney. So! He lifted his arm.