The sunlight also lit upon something altogether strange, something that was now bound to a chair in the middle of the room.
The upper parts of this were white and man-shaped.
The lower parts were invisible. The man-shaped something struggled. The man-shaped something had a handkerchief stuffed into its mouth.
Will Starling sat in another chair facing this man-shaped something. Will Starling said, “I’m very sorry it had to turn out this way, sir. And I’m very sorry that I broke your ankle.”
“Mmmph,” went the man-shaped something.
“I’ll take the gag out of your mouth,” said Will, “if you promise not to shout. You will promise that, won’t you, Mr Wells? You are Mr H.G. Wells, aren’t you?”
What could be seen of Mr H.G. Wells nodded its head.
Will removed the gag. “I had to sprinkle you with talcum powder,” he said. “I got it from your bathroom. Floris of Jermyn Street talcum. Personal blend; you have very good taste. Mr Rune had his cologne and lavender water blended there.”
“Get me to a hospital,” wailed Mr H.G. Wells. “I am seriously injured.”
“It doesn’t look too bad,” said Will. “But then, I can’t see it. It’s invisible.”
“You sadistic fiend.”
“You started the fight,” said Will. “I was only defending myself. You threw me down the stairs, I’m bruised all over; I could have been killed.”
“So much the better for it,” hissed Mr Wells.
“You’re not a very nice man,” said Will. “And I was so looking forward to meeting you.”
“Untie me,” wailed Wells. “I’m in agony.”
“No you’re not,” said Will. “I administered some morphine that I found in your bathroom cabinet. I’m sure you’re not hurting at all. And I will see that you get medical attention if you really want to go to hospital, in your present physical condition, you being invisible and everything.”
“I’ll deal with my ankle myself,” said Wells. “Just release me.”
“I don’t think that would be for the best; you might shake off the talcum and attack me again.”
“You have my word as a gentleman that I will not.”
“And I value your word,” said Will. “But you will remain bound until I take my leave. It’s nothing personal. Well, actually, it is.”
Wells struggled some more, but Will had done a good job with the tying up.
“I am sorry,” said Will. “I hoped we’d meet under more civilised circumstances. I did knock at the door.”
“I don’t answer my door. You can see why.”
“I’m amazed,” said Will. “And very impressed. I mean, I’ve read all your books, including The Invisible Man, but I didn’t think it was true. I thought it was fiction.”
“Fiction?” said Wells. “What are you talking about?”
“You are one of my favourite novelists.”
“Novelist? I am not a novelist. I am a scientist.”
“Yes, well, certainly. Rune told me all about the time machine.”
“You are acquainted with Rune?”
“I am his magical heir,” said Will. “I have spent the last year travelling with him. He taught me many things, including Dimac”
“Set me free,” said Wells.
“All in good time,” Will sipped upon something.
“What are you drinking there?” Wells asked.
“I believe you’d call it ‘hair of the dog’,” said Will. “I’ve a terrible hangover, which hasn’t been helped by the beating you gave me. I helped myself to the bottle of port on the escritoire there.”
“My vintage port. My Corney and Barrow 1807. That cost me thirty guineas.”
“Oh dear,” said Will. “I didn’t look at the label. But I should have recognised it. Rune and I shared a bottle at Claridges, although we didn’t actually pay for it.”
“For the love of God,” wailed Wells. “If you’ve opened it, then at least have the common decency to let me sample a glass.”
“It might not to go too well with the morphine.”
“I care not,” said Wells. “I am beyond all caring.”
Will went over to the escritoire, poured some port for Mr Wells, held the glass to his mouth and let him sip it.
“It’s not as good as I’d hoped for,” said Wells.
“The 1809 is much better.”
“You certainly know your vintages, young man.”
“I had a good teacher. But alas he is now dead. And I am sworn to avenge his death and bring his assassin to justice.”
“Jack the Ripper,” said Wells. “The very thought of that monster abroad on the streets sends a chill into my heart. Give me a little more port.”
Will did so.
“It’s why I’m here,” said Will, sipping further port. “I believe that Rune was trying to reach your home when his attacker caught up with him.”
“I believe that too. More port, if you please.”
Will administered more port.
“It is deeply regrettable that Rune never reached here,” said Mr Wells. “Particularly so because he had promised to pay me back a sum of money he had borrowed and also to aid me in my present predicament.”
“Your being invisible, do you mean?”
“Of course I do.”
“But why do you call that a predicament? It’s an incredible scientific achievement.”
“Science is bunk!” cried Mr Wells. And he spat as he cried it. “I put my faith in science. I believed that the world could be explained according to scientific principles. I was wrong.”
“How so?” Will asked.
“Because this world does not function according to scientific principles. It functions according to magic”
“Oh,” said Will. “Really? Do you think so?”
“Look at me,” said Wells. “Look at what little you can see of me. I never intended to become invisible. I wanted to become taller. The little you can see of me is short, is it not?”
“Not that short,” said Will. “I’ve seen shorter.”
“Only at the circus. I worked on a growth serum. To alter my metabolism and increase my height. It failed dismally. The result you see, or don’t see, before you.”
“And being invisible is a bad thing?”
“Have you ever tried to shave yourself when you can’t see your reflection in the mirror? You cannot imagine how awful it is to be invisible.”
“I can imagine what fun it might be,” said Will.
“Oh yes. Such as creeping into ladies’ rooms and watching them undress.”
“Things like that,” said Will.
“I am a scientist, not a voyeur.”
“Quite so,” said Will.
“Do you think I would gain pleasure by sneaking unseen into Buckingham Palace and positioning myself upon her Majesty’s toilet, so that she sat down unknowingly upon me and did her business?”
“Absolutely not!” Will made a disgusted face. “Such a thought never entered my head. Are you all right, Mr Wells?”
Mr Wells had a curious expression upon what could be seen of his talcumed head. An expression of ecstasy.
“I’m fine,” said Wells, doing snappings-out-of-it. “Fine.”
“And Rune was going to return you to visibility, through some means or another?”
“Through magic,” said Wells. “Which seems to triumph over science at any given opportunity.”
“But you invented the time machine. That’s a triumph of science if ever there was one.”
“If only that were true.”
“But it worked. I know it worked. I came here in it from the future.”
“Not through any efforts of mine,” said Mr Wells.
“But you invented it.”
“But it didn’t work.”
Barry stirred in Will’s head. “I’ve been out for the count, chief. What happened, are we all right?”
“I’m just having a little chat with Mr Wells. Please be quiet, Barry.”
“Aaagh!” went Barry.
“Aaagh!” went Mr Wells.
Will scratched at his aching head and then he peered at Mr Wells. “Why did you just go, ‘aaagh!’?” he asked.
“You spoke the name Barry.”
“I did,” said Will.
“Barry,” said Mr Wells. “He’s in your head, isn’t he?”
“He might be,” said Will. “What is it to you?”
“The time machine,” said Mr Wells. “He was the power behind it. He made it work.”
“Barry did?”
“He’s a loony, chief,” said Barry. “And why is he all talcumed up? And why has he got bits missing? And oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.”