The Invisible Man
shoulders again. "It 's the drink! I might ha' known."
"It 's not the drink," said the voice. "You keep your nerves steady."
"Ow! " said Mr. Marvel, and his face grew white amidst its patches. "It 's the drink," his lips repeated noiselessly. He remained staring about him, rotating slowly backwards. "I could have swore I heard a voice," he whispered.
"Of course you did."
"It 's there again," said Mr. Marvel, closing his eyes and clasping his hand on his brow with a tragic gesture. He was suddenly taken by the collar and shaken violently, and left more dazed than ever. "Don't be a fool," said the voice.
"I 'm—off—my—blooming—chump," said Mr. Marvel. "It's no good. It 's fretting about them blarsted boots. I 'm off my blessed blooming chump. Or it 's spirits."
"Neither one thing nor the other," said the voice. "Listen!"
"Chump," said Mr. Marvel.
"One minute," said the voice, penetratingly,—tremulous with self-control.
"Well?" said Mr. Thomas Marvel, with a
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