The chair creaked and Kemp felt the glass drawn away from him. He let go by an effort; his instinct was all against it. It came to rest poised twenty inches above the front edge of the seat of the chair. He stared at it in infinite perplexity. “This is⁠—this must be⁠—hypnotism. You have suggested you are invisible.”

“Nonsense,” said the voice.

“It’s frantic.”

“Listen to me.”

“I demonstrated conclusively this morning,” began Kemp, “that invisibility⁠—”

“Never mind what you’ve demonstrated!⁠—I’m starving,” said the voice, “and the night is chilly to a man without clothes.”

“Food?” said Kemp.