Kemp struggled for another moment and then lay still.
“If you shout, I’ll smash your face,” said the invisible man, relieving his mouth.
“I’m an invisible man. It’s no foolishness, and no magic. I really am an invisible man. And I want your help. I don’t want to hurt you, but if you behave like a frantic rustic, I must. Don’t you remember me, Kemp? Griffin, of University College?”
“Let me get up,” said Kemp. “I’ll stop where I am. And let me sit quiet for a minute.”
He sat up and felt his neck.
“I am Griffin, of University College, and I have made myself invisible. I am just an ordinary man—a man you have known—made invisible.”
“Griffin?” said Kemp.
“Griffin,” answered the voice. “A younger student than you were, almost an albino, six feet high, and broad, with a pink and white face and red eyes, who won the medal for chemistry.”
“I am confused,” said Kemp. “My brain is rioting. What has this to do with Griffin?”
“I am Griffin.”
Kemp thought. “It’s horrible,” he said. “But what devilry must happen to make a man invisible?”
“It’s no devilry. It’s a process, sane and intelligible enough—”
“It’s horrible!” said Kemp. “How on earth—?”