The Invisible Man

by H.G. Wells

I made no more ado, but knocked him on the head.” “Knocked him on the head?” exclaimed Kemp. “Yes—stunned him—as he was going downstairs. Hit him from behind with a stool that stood on the landing. He went downstairs like a bag of old boots.” “But—I say! The common conventions of humanity—” “Are all very well for common people. But the point was, Kemp, that I had to get out of that house in a disguise without his seeing me. I couldn’t think of any other way of doing it. And then I gagged him with a Louis Quatorze vest and tied him up in a sheet.” “Tied him up in a sheet!” “Made a sort of bag of it. It was rather a good idea to keep the idiot scared and quiet, and a devilish hard thing to get out of—head away from the string. My dear Kemp, it’s no good your sitting glaring as though I was a murderer. It had to be done. He had his revolver. If once he saw me he would be able to describe me—” “But still,” said Kemp, “in England—to-day. And the man was in his own house, and you were—well, robbing.” “Robbing! Confound it! You’ll call me a thief next!

My guy has 0 empathy and 0 self-awareness