The İnvisible Man
     A Grotesque Romance

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  The stranger came early in February, one wintry day, through a biting wind and a driving snow,
  the last snowfall of the year, over the down, walking from Bramblehurst railway station, and
  carrying a little black portmanteau in his thickly gloved hand. He was wrapped up from head to
  foot, and the brim of his soft felt hat hid every inch of his face but the shiny tip of his nose; the
  snow had piled itself against his shoulders and chest, and added a white crest to the burden he
  carried. He staggered into the Coach and Horses more dead than alive, and flung his
  portmanteau down. A fire, he cried, in the name of human charity! A room and a fire! He
  stamped and shook the snow from off himself in the bar, and followed Mrs. Hall into her guest
  parlour to strike his bargain. And with that much introduction, that and a couple of sovereigns
  flung upon the table, he took up his quarters in the inn.
  Mrs. Hall lit the fire and left him there while she went to prepare him a meal with her own hands.
  A guest to stop at Iping in the wintertime was an unheard-of piece of luck, let alone a guest who
  was no haggler, and she was resolved to show herself worthy of her good fortune. As soon as
  the bacon was well under way, and Millie, her lymphatic maid, had been brisked up a bit by a few
  deftly chosen expressions of contempt, she carried the cloth, plates, and glasses into the parlour
  and began to lay them with the utmost éclat. Although the fire was burning up briskly, she was
  surprised to see that her visitor still wore his hat and coat, standing with his back to her and
  staring out of the window at the falling snow in the yard. His gloved hands were clasped behind