“I made a mistake, Kemp, a huge mistake, in carrying this thing through alone.  I have wasted strength, time, opportunities.  Alone—­it is wonderful how little a man can do alone!  To rob a little, to hurt a little, and there is the end.

“What I want, Kemp, is a goal-keeper, a helper, and a hiding-place, an arrangement whereby I can sleep and eat and rest in peace, and unsuspected.  I must have a confederate.  With a confederate, with food and rest—­a thousand things are possible.

“Hitherto I have gone on vague lines.  We have to consider all that invisibility means, all that it does not mean.  It means little advantage for eavesdropping and so forth—­one makes sounds.  It’s of little help—­a little help perhaps—­in housebreaking and so forth.  Once you’ve caught me you could easily imprison me.  But on the other hand I am hard to catch.  This invisibility, in fact, is only good in two cases:  It’s useful in getting away, it’s useful in approaching.  It’s particularly useful, therefore, in killing.  I can walk round a man, whatever weapon he has, choose my point, strike as I like.  Dodge as I like.  Escape as I like.”

Kemp’s hand went to his moustache.  Was that a movement downstairs?

“And it is killing we must do, Kemp.”

“It is killing we must do,” repeated Kemp.  “I’m listening to your plan, Griffin, but I’m not agreeing, mind. Why killing?”

“Not wanton killing, but a judicious slaying.  The point is, they know there is an Invisible Man—­as well as we know there is an Invisible Man.  And that Invisible Man, Kemp, must now establish a Reign of Terror.  Yes; no doubt it’s startling.  But I mean it.  A Reign of Terror.  He must take some town like your Burdock and terrify and dominate it.  He must issue his orders.  He can do that in a thousand ways—­scraps of paper thrust under doors would suffice.  And all who disobey his orders he must kill, and kill all who would defend them.”

“Humph!” said Kemp, no longer listening to Griffin but to the sound of his front door opening and closing.

“It seems to me, Griffin,” he said, to cover his wandering attention, “that your confederate would be in a difficult position.”

“No one would know he was a confederate,” said the Invisible Man, eagerly.  And then suddenly, “Hush!  What’s that downstairs?”

“Nothing,” said Kemp, and suddenly began to speak loud and fast.  “I don’t agree to this, Griffin,” he said.  “Understand me, I don’t agree to this.  Why dream of playing a game against the race?  How can you hope to gain happiness?  Don’t be a lone wolf.  Publish your results; take the world—­take the nation at least—­into your confidence.  Think what you might do with a million helpers—­”

The Invisible Man interrupted—­arm extended.  “There are footsteps coming upstairs,” he said in a low voice.

“Nonsense,” said Kemp.

“Let me see,” said the Invisible Man, and advanced, arm extended, to the door.