CHAPTER XXV. THE HUNTING OF THE INVISIBLE MAN

von H. G. Wells

Kemp struggled to find the words to explain the chaos that had just unfolded. They stood on the landing, Kemp speaking rapidly, still wearing the remnants of Griffin’s grotesque wrappings on his arm. Slowly, Adye began to piece together the gravity of the situation.

“He’s lost it,” Kemp said. “He’s completely inhuman. It’s all about him—his own selfish needs, his safety. I’ve heard a story this morning that’s nothing short of brutal self-interest. He’s hurt people. He’ll kill again unless we stop him. He’s going to create a panic. Nothing can hold him back. He’s out there right now—furious!”

“We have to catch him,” Adye replied firmly. “That’s a given.”

“But how?” Kemp exclaimed, suddenly bursting with ideas. “You need to act immediately. Mobilize every available man; we can’t let him leave this area. If he gets away, he could roam the countryside at will, killing and injuring anyone in his path. He’s dreaming of a reign of terror! You need to keep an eye on the trains, the roads, and shipping. The garrison has to help. Call for reinforcements. The only thing that might keep him here is the thought of retrieving some notes he values. I can tell you about that! There’s a guy at your police station—Marvel.”

“I know him,” Adye said. “Those notes—yes. But the tramp...”

“He claims he doesn’t have them. But he believes the tramp does. You have to make sure he can’t eat or sleep; the whole area needs to be on alert for him, day and night. Lock up all the food so he has to break in to get it. Every house needs to be secured against him. Let’s hope for cold nights and rain! The entire countryside has to start hunting and keep hunting. Adye, he’s a danger, a disaster waiting to happen; if we don’t trap him, it’s terrifying to think about what could occur.”

“What else can we do?” Adye asked. “I need to head down and start organizing. But why not come with me? Yes—you should come! We need to hold a sort of council of war—get Hopps involved—and the railway managers. This is urgent. Let’s go—tell me what else we can do as we walk. Put that down.”

In moments, Adye was leading the way downstairs. They found the front door wide open, and the policemen outside were staring into the empty air. “He’s escaped, sir,” one of them reported.

“We need to get to the central station immediately,” Adye said. “One of you go down and grab a cab to meet us—quickly. And now, Kemp, what else?”

“Dogs,” Kemp replied. “Get dogs. They can’t see him, but they can track his scent. Get dogs.”

“Good,” Adye said. “It’s not widely known, but the prison officials over at Halstead know a guy with bloodhounds. Dogs. What else?”

“Remember,” Kemp continued, “his food leaves traces. After he eats, it’s visible until it’s digested. He’ll have to hide after eating. You need to keep searching every thicket, every quiet spot. And put away all weapons—anything that could be used as a weapon. He can’t carry things for long, and whatever he can grab to strike at people needs to be hidden.”

“Good again,” Adye said. “We’ll catch him yet!”

“And on the roads,” Kemp hesitated.

“Yes?” Adye prompted.

“Powdered glass,” Kemp said. “I know it’s cruel, but think about what he could do!”

Adye inhaled sharply, conflicted. “It’s unsportsmanlike. I’m not sure. But I’ll have powdered glass ready. If he goes too far...”

“The man has become inhuman, I tell you,” Kemp insisted. “I’m convinced he’ll establish a reign of terror—once he gets past the emotions of this escape—just as I’m sure I’m talking to you right now. Our only chance is to stay one step ahead. He’s cut himself off from humanity. His blood is on his own hands.”