“Diary!” said Cuss, putting the three books on the table. “Now, at any rate, we will learn something.”
The Vicar stood with his hands on the table.
“Diary,” repeated Cuss, sitting down, putting two volumes to support the third, and opening it. “Hm-no name. Lord! Only figures.”
The vicar came round to look over his shoulder.
Cuss turned the pages over with a face suddenly disappointed.
“Dear me! Only figures, Bunting.”
“There are no diagrams?” asked Mr. Bunting. “No illustrations throwing light-”
“See for yourself,” said Mr. Cuss. “Some of it’s mathematical and some of it’s Russian or some such language (to judge by the letters), and some of it’s Greek. You can understand Greek I suppose.”
“Of course,” said Mr. Bunting, wiping his spectacles and feeling suddenly very uncomfortable-for he had no Greek left in his mind worth talking about; “yes-the Greek, of course, may give us a clue.”
“I’ll find you a place.”
“I’d rather glance through the volumes first,” said Mr. Bunting, still wiping his glasses. “A general impression first, Cuss, and then, you know, we can try to find the clue.”
He coughed, put on his glasses, coughed again. Then he took the volume Cuss handed him. And then something happened.
The door opened suddenly.
Both gentlemen started violently, looked round, and were relieved to see a rosy face beneath a furry silk hat.
“Whisky?” asked the face.
“No,” said both gentlemen at once.
“Over the other side, my man,” said Mr. Bunting. “And please shut that door,” said Mr. Cuss, irritably.
“All right,” said the intruder and he vanished and closed the door.
“A sailor, I think,” said Mr. Bunting. “Amusing fellows, they are.”
“It quite made me jump,” said Cuss. “The door was opening like that.”
Mr. Bunting smiled as if he had not jumped.
“And now,” he said with a sigh, “these books.”
Someone sniffed as he did so.
“One thing is indisputable,” said Bunting, drawing up a chair next to that of Cuss. “Very strange things happened in Iping during the last few days-very strange. I cannot of course believe in this absurd invisibility story-”
“It’s incredible,” said Cuss, “incredible. But the fact remains that I saw-I certainly saw right down his sleeve.”
“But did you-are you sure? Hallucinations are so easily produced. I don’t know if you have ever seen a really good conjuror.”
“I won’t argue again,” said Cuss. “We’ve discussed all that already, Bunting. And now there are these books. Ah! Greek letters certainly.”
He pointed to the middle of the page. Mr. Bunting flushed slightly and brought his face nearer, apparently finding some difficulty with his glasses. Suddenly he felt a strange feeling at the nape of his neck. He tried to raise his head, and encountered an immovable resistance. The feeling was a curious pressure: a heavy, firm hand bore his chin to the table.
“Don’t move, gentlemen” whispered a voice.
Mr. Bunting looked into the face of Cuss, and saw a reflection of his own astonishment.
“I’m sorry to treat you like this,” said the Voice, “but it’s unavoidable. Since when did you learn to pry into an investigator’s private memoranda?”
Two chins struck the table simultaneously, and two sets of teeth rattled.
“Where have they put my clothes? Listen,” said the Voice. “The windows are fastened and I’ve taken the key out of the door. I am a strong man, and I have the poker-besides being invisible. There’s not the slightest doubt that I could kill you both and get away quite easily if I wanted to-do you understand? Very well. If I let you go, will you promise not to try any nonsense and do what I tell you?”
