He groaned suddenly and leant forward, supporting his invisible head on invisible hands. “Kemp,” he said, “I’ve had no sleep for near three days, except a couple of dozes of an hour or so. I must sleep soon.”

“Well, have my room⁠—have this room.”

“But how can I sleep? If I sleep⁠—he will get away. Ugh! What does it matter?”

“What’s the shot wound?” asked Kemp, abruptly.

“Nothing⁠—scratch and blood. Oh, god! How I want sleep!”

“Why not?”

The invisible man appeared to be regarding Kemp. “Because I’ve a particular objection to being caught by my fellow men,” he said slowly.

Kemp started.