فصل 14

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فصل 14

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  • زمان مطالعه 6 دقیقه
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دانلود اپلیکیشن «زیبوک»

این فصل را می‌توانید به بهترین شکل و با امکانات عالی در اپلیکیشن «زیبوک» بخوانید

دانلود اپلیکیشن «زیبوک»

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متن انگلیسی فصل

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

In the Happy Cricketers

At the bottom of the hill was an inn called the Happy Cricketers. Inside, the barman leant his fat red arms on the table and talked about horses with a cabman, while a black-bearded man who spoke like an American talked to a policeman.

‘What’s the shouting about?’ said the cabman, trying to see up the hill over the dirty yellow curtains in the low window of the inn. Somebody ran past outside.

‘Fire, perhaps,’ said the barman.

The door was pushed open, and Marvel, crying, his hat gone, the neck of his coat torn open, rushed in and tried to shut the door. It was held half open by a door-stop.

‘Coming!’ he cried, his voice cracked with terror. ‘He’s coming. The Invisible Man! After me. Help! Help! Help!’

‘Shut the doors,’ said the policeman. ‘Who’s coming? What’s the matter?’ He went to the door and removed the door-stop, and the door shut with a bang. The man with the beard closed the other door.

‘Let me hide,’ said Marvel, with tears running down his face. ‘Let me hide. Lock me in somewhere. I tell you he’s after me. I escaped. He said he’d kill me, and he will.’

‘You’re safe,’ said the man with the black beard. ‘The door’s shut. What’s it all about?’

‘Let me hide,’ said Marvel, and cried aloud as a blow suddenly made the locked door shake. The blow was followed by a hurried knocking and a shouting outside.

‘Hello,’ cried the policeman, ‘who’s there?’

‘He’ll kill me,’ shouted Mr Marvel, ‘he’s got a knife or something. Don’t open the door. Please don’t open the door. Where shall I hide?’

‘Is this the Invisible Man, then?’ asked the black-bearded man, with one hand behind him. ‘I think it’s about time we saw him.’ The window of the inn was suddenly broken in, and there were shouts, and people running about in the street. The policeman had been standing on a chair, looking out of the window to see who was at the door. He got down. ‘That’s who it is’ he said. The barman stood in front of the parlour door, where Mr Marvel was now locked in, and stared at the broken window. Then he came round to the two other men.

Everything was suddenly quiet. ‘I wish I had my stick,’ said the policeman. ‘If we open the door, he’ll come in. Nothing can stop him.’

‘Don’t be in too much of a hurry about that door,’ said the cabman anxiously.

‘Unlock it,’ said the man with the black beard, ‘and if he comes…’ He showed them the revolver in his hand.

‘That won’t do,’ said the policeman; ‘that’s murder.’

‘I know what country I’m in,’ said the man with the beard ‘I’m going to shoot at his legs. Unlock it.’

‘Not with that thing going off behind me,’ said the barman.

‘Very well,’ said the man with the black beard. He stepped forward with his gun ready, and unlocked the door himself. Barman, cabman and policeman turned around.

‘Come in,’ said the bearded man in a low voice, standing back and facing the door with his gun behind him. No one came in and the door remained closed.

‘Are all the doors of the house shut?’ asked Marvel, five minutes later. ‘He’s going round to the back.’

‘There’s the yard door,’ said the barman, ‘and the private door. The yard door-‘

He rushed out of the bar.

In a minute he appeared again with a long sharp knife in his hand. ‘The yard door was open,’ he said.

‘He may be in the house now,’ said the cabman.

The man with the beard put the gun back in his pocket. As he did so, the door opened, something rushed past them, and the parlour door burst open. They heard Marvel cry out and ran to his rescue. The bearded man’s revolver went off, and the mirror at the back of the parlour came crashing down on the floor.

As the barman came into the room, he saw Marvel struggling against the door that led to the yard and kitchen. The door flew open and Marvel was dragged into the kitchen.

The policeman, who had been trying to pass the barman rushed in, followed by the cabman, caught hold of the invisible hand that held Marvel, was hit in the face and fell down. Then the cabman took hold of something.

‘I’ve got him,’ said the cabman.

‘Here he is!’ said the barman.

Mr Marvel suddenly dropped to the ground, and made an attempt to hide behind the legs of the fighting men. The struggle went backwards and forwards near the door. The voice of the Invisible Man was heard for the first time, as the policeman stepped on his foot. Then he cried out, and his arms flew out. The cabman was suddenly knocked to the ground by a kick in the stomach. The door into the bar parlour from the kitchen shut with a bang as Mr Marvel escaped through it. The men in the kitchen found themselves struggling with empty air.

‘Where’s he gone?’ cried the man with the beard. ‘Out?’

‘This way,’ said the policeman, stepping into the yard and stopping.

A large stone flew by his head and fell on the kitchen table.

‘I’ll show him,’ shouted the man with the black beard and he fired five rapid shots in the direction the stone had come from. As he fired, the man with the beard moved his hand slightly, so that his shots went from one side to the other of the narrow yard.

A silence followed. ‘Come along,’ he said, ‘and feel around for his body.’

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