“Lord!” said Mr. Marvel. “That shoulder’s a mass of bruises as it is.”

“On my honour,” said the voice, “I will kill you.”

“I didn’t try to give you the slip,” said Marvel, in a voice that was not far remote from tears. “I swear I didn’t. I didn’t know the blessed turning, that was all! How the devil was I to know the blessed turning? As it is, I’ve been knocked about⁠—”

“You’ll get knocked about a great deal more if you don’t mind,” said the voice, and Mr. Marvel abruptly became silent. He blew out his cheeks, and his eyes were eloquent of despair.

“It’s bad enough to let these floundering yokels explode my little secret, without your cutting off with my books. It’s lucky for some of them they cut and ran when they did! Here am I⁠ ⁠… No one knew I was invisible! And now what am I to do?”