The Invisible Man was silent for a space.  “I can’t tell you to-night,” he said.

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.

“Fool that I am!” said the Invisible Man, striking the table smartly.  “I’ve put the idea into your head.”

CHAPTER XVIII

THE INVISIBLE MAN SLEEPS

Exhausted and wounded as the Invisible Man was, he refused to accept Kemp’s word that his freedom should be respected.  He examined the two windows of the bedroom, drew up the blinds and opened the sashes, to confirm Kemp’s statement that a retreat by them would be possible.  Outside the night was very quiet and still, and the new moon was setting over the down.  Then he examined the keys of the bedroom and the two dressing-room doors, to satisfy himself that these also could be made an assurance of freedom.  Finally he expressed himself satisfied.  He stood on the hearth rug and Kemp heard the sound of a yawn.

“I’m sorry,” said the Invisible Man, “if I cannot tell you all that I have done to-night.  But I am worn out.  It’s grotesque, no doubt.  It’s horrible!  But believe me, Kemp, in spite of your arguments of this morning, it is quite a possible thing.  I have made a discovery.  I meant to keep it to myself.  I can’t.  I must have a partner.  And you....  We can do such things ...  But to-morrow.  Now, Kemp, I feel as though I must sleep or perish.”

Kemp stood in the middle of the room staring at the headless garment.  “I suppose I must leave you,” he said.  “It’s—­incredible.  Three things happening like this, overturning all my preconceptions—­would make me insane.  But it’s real!  Is there anything more that I can get you?”

“Only bid me good-night,” said Griffin.

“Good-night,” said Kemp, and shook an invisible hand.  He walked sideways to the door.  Suddenly the dressing-gown walked quickly towards him.  “Understand me!” said the dressing-gown.  “No attempts to hamper me, or capture me!  Or—­”

Kemp’s face changed a little.  “I thought I gave you my word,” he said.

Kemp closed the door softly behind him, and the key was turned upon him forthwith.  Then, as he stood with an expression of passive amazement on his face, the rapid feet came to the door of the dressing-room and that too was locked.  Kemp slapped his brow with his hand.  “Am I dreaming?  Has the world gone mad—­or have I?”