opened, Mr Cuss appeared and, without looking at her, rushed down the steps towards the corner of the street. 'Hold him!' he cried. 'Don't let him drop those books and clothes! You can see him so long as he holds them.' He knew nothing of Marvel; for the Invisible Man had handed over the books and clothes to him in the yard. The face of Mr Cuss was angry and determined, but there was something wrong with his clothes: he was wearing a tablecloth. 'Hold him!' he shouted. 'He's got my trousers — and all the vicar's clothes!' Coming round the corner to join the crowd, he was knocked off his feet and lay kicking on the ground. Somebody stepped on his finger. He struggled to his feet, something knocked against him and threw him on his knees again, and he saw that everyone was running back to the village. He rose again, and was hit behind the ear. He set off straight back to the village inn as fast as he could run, and on his way jumped over the body of Huxter, who was now sitting up. Behind him, as he was halfway up the inn steps, he heard a sudden cry of anger above the noise, and the sound of someone being struck in the face. He knew the voice as that of the Invisible Man. In another moment Mr Cuss was back in the parlour. 'He's coming back, Bunting!' he said, rushing in. 'Save yourself!' Mr Bunting was standing in the window, trying to dress himself in the curtains and a newspaper.
'Who's coming?' he said, so surprised that his dress nearly fell
off him. 'The Invisible Man!' said Cuss, and rushed to the window. 'We'd better move — quick. He's fighting like a madman!' In another moment he was out in the yard. Mr Bunting heard a frightful struggle in the passage of the