Человек-невидимка / The Invisible Man + аудиоприложение

There were a couple of trunks indeed, but in addition there were a box of books-big, fat books-and a dozen or more crates, boxes, and cases, containing objects packed in straw, as it seemed to Hall, glass bottles.

The stranger, muffled in hat, coat, gloves, and wrapper, came out impatiently to meet the cart.

“Come along with those boxes,” he said. “I’ve been waiting long enough.”

Fearenside’s dog caught sight of him, and began to bristle and growl savagely, and when he rushed down the steps it sprang straight at his hand.

“Whup!” cried Hall, jumping back, for he was no hero with dogs, and Fearenside howled, “Lie down!” and snatched his whip.

They saw the dog’s teeth had slipped the hand, heard a kick, and heard the rip of the stranger’s trousers. Then the dog retreated under the wheels of the waggon. It was all the business of some seconds. No one spoke, everyone shouted. The stranger glanced swiftly at his torn glove and at his leg, then turned and rushed swiftly up the steps into the inn.

They heard him go to his bedroom.

Mr. Hall met Mrs. Hall in the passage.

“Carrier’s dog,” he said, “bit the stranger.”

He went straight upstairs, and the stranger’s door being ajar, he pushed it open and was entering without any ceremony.

The curtain was down and the room dim. He noticed something strange, what seemed a handless arm waving towards him, and a face of three huge indeterminate spots on white. Then he was struck violently in the chest, hurled back, and the door slammed and locked.

It was so rapid that it gave him no time to observe. He was wondering what it might be that he had seen.

A couple of minutes after, he rejoined the little group that had formed outside the “Coach and Horses.” There was Fearenside telling about it all over again for the second time; there was Mrs. Hall saying his dog didn’t have the right to bite her guests; besides women and children, all of them saying fatuities.

Mr. Hall, staring at them from the steps and listening, found it incredible that he had seen anything so very remarkable happen upstairs.

Besides, his vocabulary was too limited to express his impressions.

“He doesn’t want to get help, he says,” he said in answer to his wife’s inquiry.

“I’d shoot the dog, that’s what I’d do,” said a lady in the group.

Suddenly the dog began growling again.

“Come along!” cried an angry voice in the doorway, and there stood the muffled stranger with his collar turned up.