The Invisible Man
he said something about his shin, and stooped down. He seemed to be fumbling with his shoes and socks.
"Why!" said Huxter, suddenly, "that 's not a man at all. It 's just empty clothes. Look! You can see down his collar and the linings of his clothes. I could put my arm—"
He extended his hand; it seemed to meet something in mid-air, and he drew it back with a sharp exclamation. "I wish you'd keep your fingers out of my eye" said the aerial voice, in a tone of savage expostulation. "The fact is, I 'm all here: head, hands, legs, and all the rest of it, but it happens I'm invisible. It's a confounded nuisance, but I am. That's no reason why I should be poked to pieces by every stupid bumpkin in Iping, is it?"
The suit of clothes, now all unbuttoned and hanging loosely upon its unseen supports, stood up, arms akimbo.
Several other of the men folks had now entered the room, so that it was closely crowded. "Invisible, eigh?" said Huxter, ignoring the stranger's abuse. "Who ever heard the likes of that?"
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