I should
wish to place upon record here
our gratitude to all our friends
upon the Amazon for the very
great kindness and hospitality
which was shown to us upon our
return journey. Very particularly
would I thank Senhor Penalosa
and other officials of the Brazilian
Government for the special arrangements
by which we were helped upon
our way, and Senhor Pereira of
Para, to whose forethought we
owe the complete outfit for a
decent appearance in the civilized
world which we found ready for
us at that town. It seemed a
poor return for all the courtesy
which we encountered that we
should deceive our hosts and
benefactors, but under the circumstances
we had really no alternative,
and I hereby tell them that they
will only waste their time and
their money if they attempt to
follow upon our traces. Even
the names have been altered in
our accounts, and I am very sure
that no one, from the most careful
study of them, could come within
a thousand miles of our unknown
land.
The excitement which had been
caused through those parts of
South America which we had to
traverse was imagined by us to
be purely local, and I can assure
our friends in England that we
had no notion of the uproar which
the mere rumor of our experiences
had caused through Europe. It
was not until the Ivernia was
within five hundred miles of
Southampton that the wireless
messages from paper after paper
and agency after agency, offering
huge prices for a short return
message as to our actual results,
showed us how strained was the
attention not only of the scientific
world but of the general public.
It was agreed among us, however,
that no definite statement should
be given to the Press until we
had met the members of the Zoological
Institute, since as delegates
it was our clear duty to give
our first report to the body
from which we had received our
commission of investigation.
Thus, although we found Southampton
full of Pressmen, we absolutely
refused to give any information,
which had the natural effect
of focussing public attention
upon the meeting which was advertised
for the evening of November 7th.
For this gathering, the Zoological
Hall which had been the scene
of the inception of our task
was found to be far too small,
and it was only in the Queen's
Hall in Regent Street that accommodation
could be found. It is now common
knowledge the promoters might
have ventured upon the Albert
Hall and still found their space
too scanty.
It was for the second evening
after our arrival that the great
meeting had been fixed. For the
first, we had each, no doubt,
our own pressing personal affairs
to absorb us. Of mine I cannot
yet speak. It may be that as
it stands further from me I may
think of it, and even speak of
it, with less emotion. I have
shown the reader in the beginning
of this narrative where lay the
springs of my action. It is but
right, perhaps, that I should
carry on the tale and show also
the results. And yet the day
may come when I would not have
it otherwise. At least I have
been driven forth to take part
in a wondrous adventure, and
I cannot but be thankful to the
force that drove me.
And now I turn to the last
supreme eventful moment of our
adventure. As I was racking my
brain as to how I should best
describe it, my eyes fell upon
the issue of my own Journal for
the morning of the 8th of November
with the full and excellent account
of my friend and fellow-reporter
Macdona. What can I do better
than transcribe his narrative--head-lines
and all? I admit that the paper
was exuberant in the matter,
out of compliment to its own
enterprise in sending a correspondent,
but the other great dailies were
hardly less full in their account.
Thus, then, friend Mac in his
report:
THE NEW WORLD GREAT MEETING
AT THE QUEEN'S HALL SCENES OF
UPROAR EXTRAORDINARY INCIDENT
WHAT WAS IT? NOCTURNAL RIOT IN
REGENT STREET (Special)
"The much-discussed meeting
of the Zoological Institute,
convened to hear the report of
the Committee of Investigation
sent out last year to South America
to test the assertions made by
Professor Challenger as to the
continued existence of prehistoric
life upon that Continent, was
held last night in the greater
Queen's Hall, and it is safe
to say that it is likely to be
a red letter date in the history
of Science, for the proceedings
were of so remarkable and sensational
a character that no one present
is ever likely to forget them." (Oh,
brother scribe Macdona, what
a monstrous opening sentence!) "The
tickets were theoretically confined
to members and their friends,
but the latter is an elastic
term, and long before eight o'clock,
the hour fixed for the commencement
of the proceedings, all parts
of the Great Hall were tightly
packed. The general public, however,
which most unreasonably entertained
a grievance at having been excluded,
stormed the doors at a quarter
to eight, after a prolonged melee
in which several people were
injured, including Inspector
Scoble of H. Division, whose
leg was unfortunately broken.
After this unwarrantable invasion,
which not only filled every passage,
but even intruded upon the space
set apart for the Press, it is
estimated that nearly five thousand
people awaited the arrival of
the travelers. When they eventually
appeared, they took their places
in the front of a platform which
already contained all the leading
scientific men, not only of this
country, but of France and of
Germany. Sweden was also represented,
in the person of Professor Sergius,
the famous Zoologist of the University
of Upsala. The entrance of the
four heroes of the occasion was
the signal for a remarkable demonstration
of welcome, the whole audience
rising and cheering for some
minutes. An acute observer might,
however, have detected some signs
of dissent amid the applause,
and gathered that the proceedings
were likely to become more lively
than harmonious. It may safely
be prophesied, however, that
no one could have foreseen the
extraordinary turn which they
were actually to take.
"Of the appearance of the four
wanderers little need be said,
since their photographs have
for some time been appearing
in all the papers. They bear
few traces of the hardships which
they are said to have undergone.
Professor Challenger's beard
may be more shaggy, Professor
Summerlee's features more ascetic,
Lord John Roxton's figure more
gaunt, and all three may be burned
to a darker tint than when they
left our shores, but each appeared
to be in most excellent health.
As to our own representative,
the well-known athlete and international
Rugby football player, E. D.
Malone, he looks trained to a
hair, and as he surveyed the
crowd a smile of good-humored
contentment pervaded his honest
but homely face." (All right,
Mac, wait till I get you alone!)
"When quiet
had been restored and the audience
resumed their
seats after the ovation which
they had given to the travelers,
the chairman, the Duke of Durham,
addressed the meeting. `He would
not,' he said, `stand for more
than a moment between that vast
assembly and the treat which
lay before them. It was not for
him to anticipate what Professor
Summerlee, who was the spokesman
of the committee, had to say
to them, but it was common rumor
that their expedition had been
crowned by extraordinary success.'
(Applause.) `Apparently the age
of romance was not dead, and
there was common ground upon
which the wildest imaginings
of the novelist could meet the
actual scientific investigations
of the searcher for truth. He
would only add, before he sat
down, that he rejoiced--and all
of them would rejoice--that these
gentlemen had returned safe and
sound from their difficult and
dangerous task, for it cannot
be denied that any disaster to
such an expedition would have
inflicted a well-nigh irreparable
loss to the cause of Zoological
science.' (Great applause, in
which Professor Challenger was
observed to join.)
"Professor Summerlee's rising
was the signal for another extraordinary
outbreak of enthusiasm, which
broke out again at intervals
throughout his address. That
address will not be given in
extenso in these columns, for
the reason that a full account
of the whole adventures of the
expedition is being published
as a supplement from the pen
of our own special correspondent.
Some general indications will
therefore suffice. Having described
the genesis of their journey,
and paid a handsome tribute to
his friend Professor Challenger,
coupled with an apology for the
incredulity with which his assertions,
now fully vindicated, had been
received, he gave the actual
course of their journey, carefully
withholding such information
as would aid the public in any
attempt to locate this remarkable
plateau. Having described, in
general terms, their course from
the main river up to the time
that they actually reached the
base of the cliffs, he enthralled
his hearers by his account of
the difficulties encountered
by the expedition in their repeated
attempts to mount them, and finally
described how they succeeded
in their desperate endeavors,
which cost the lives of their
two devoted half-breed servants." (This
amazing reading of the affair
was the result of Summerlee's
endeavors to avoid raising any
questionable matter at the meeting.)
"Having conducted
his audience in fancy to the
summit, and marooned
them there by reason of the fall
of their bridge, the Professor
proceeded to describe both the
horrors and the attractions of
that remarkable land. Of personal
adventures he said little, but
laid stress upon the rich harvest
reaped by Science in the observations
of the wonderful beast, bird,
insect, and plant life of the
plateau. Peculiarly rich in the
coleoptera and in the lepidoptera,
forty-six new species of the
one and ninety-four of the other
had been secured in the course
of a few weeks. It was, however,
in the larger animals, and especially
in the larger animals supposed
to have been long extinct, that
the interest of the public was
naturally centered. Of these
he was able to give a goodly
list, but had little doubt that
it would be largely extended
when the place had been more
thoroughly investigated. He and
his companions had seen at least
a dozen creatures, most of them
at a distance, which corresponded
with nothing at present known
to Science. These would in time
be duly classified and examined.
He instanced a snake, the cast
skin of which, deep purple in
color, was fifty-one feet in
length, and mentioned a white
creature, supposed to be mammalian,
which gave forth well-marked
phosphorescence in the darkness;
also a large black moth, the
bite of which was supposed by
the Indians to be highly poisonous.
Setting aside these entirely
new forms of life, the plateau
was very rich in known prehistoric
forms, dating back in some cases
to early Jurassic times. Among
these he mentioned the gigantic
and grotesque stegosaurus, seen
once by Mr. Malone at a drinking-place
by the lake, and drawn in the
sketch-book of that adventurous
American who had first penetrated
this unknown world. He described
also the iguanodon and the pterodactyl--two
of the first of the wonders which
they had encountered. He then
thrilled the assembly by some
account of the terrible carnivorous
dinosaurs, which had on more
than one occasion pursued members
of the party, and which were
the most formidable of all the
creatures which they had encountered.
Thence he passed to the huge
and ferocious bird, the phororachus,
and to the great elk which still
roams upon this upland. It was
not, however, until he sketched
the mysteries of the central
lake that the full interest and
enthusiasm of the audience were
aroused. One had to pinch oneself
to be sure that one was awake
as one heard this sane and practical
Professor in cold measured tones
describing the monstrous three-eyed
fish-lizards and the huge water-snakes
which inhabit this enchanted
sheet of water. Next he touched
upon the Indians, and upon the
extraordinary colony of anthropoid
apes, which might be looked upon
as an advance upon the pithecanthropus
of Java, and as coming therefore
nearer than any known form to
that hypothetical creation, the
missing link. Finally he described,
amongst some merriment, the ingenious
but highly dangerous aeronautic
invention of Professor Challenger,
and wound up a most memorable
address by an account of the
methods by which the committee
did at last find their way back
to civilization.
"It had been
hoped that the proceedings
would end there,
and that a vote of thanks and
congratulation, moved by Professor
Sergius, of Upsala University,
would be duly seconded and carried;
but it was soon evident that
the course of events was not
destined to flow so smoothly.
Symptoms of opposition had been
evident from time to time during
the evening, and now Dr. James
Illingworth, of Edinburgh, rose
in the center of the hall. Dr.
Illingworth asked whether an
amendment should not be taken
before a resolution.
"THE CHAIRMAN:
`Yes, sir, if there must be
an amendment.'
"DR. ILLINGWORTH:
`Your Grace, there must be
an amendment.'
"THE CHAIRMAN:
`Then let us take it at once.'
"PROFESSOR
SUMMERLEE (springing to his
feet): `Might I explain,
your Grace, that this man is
my personal enemy ever since
our controversy in the Quarterly
Journal of Science as to the
true nature of Bathybius?'
"THE CHAIRMAN:
`I fear I cannot go into personal
matters. Proceed.'
"Dr. Illingworth
was imperfectly heard in part
of his remarks
on account of the strenuous opposition
of the friends of the explorers.
Some attempts were also made
to pull him down. Being a man
of enormous physique, however,
and possessed of a very powerful
voice, he dominated the tumult
and succeeded in finishing his
speech. It was clear, from the
moment of his rising, that he
had a number of friends and sympathizers
in the hall, though they formed
a minority in the audience. The
attitude of the greater part
of the public might be described
as one of attentive neutrality.
"Dr. Illingworth
began his remarks by expressing
his high
appreciation of the scientific
work both of Professor Challenger
and of Professor Summerlee. He
much regretted that any personal
bias should have been read into
his remarks, which were entirely
dictated by his desire for scientific
truth. His position, in fact,
was substantially the same as
that taken up by Professor Summerlee
at the last meeting. At that
last meeting Professor Challenger
had made certain assertions which
had been queried by his colleague.
Now this colleague came forward
himself with the same assertions
and expected them to remain unquestioned.
Was this reasonable? (`Yes,'
`No,' and prolonged interruption,
during which Professor Challenger
was heard from the Press box
to ask leave from the chairman
to put Dr. Illingworth into the
street.) A year ago one man said
certain things. Now four men
said other and more startling
ones. Was this to constitute
a final proof where the matters
in question were of the most
revolutionary and incredible
character? There had been recent
examples of travelers arriving
from the unknown with certain
tales which had been too readily
accepted. Was the London Zoological
Institute to place itself in
this position? He admitted that
the members of the committee
were men of character. But human
nature was very complex. Even
Professors might be misled by
the desire for notoriety. Like
moths, we all love best to flutter
in the light. Heavy-game shots
liked to be in a position to
cap the tales of their rivals,
and journalists were not averse
from sensational coups, even
when imagination had to aid fact
in the process. Each member of
the committee had his own motive
for making the most of his results.
(`Shame! shame!') He had no desire
to be offensive. (`You are!'
and interruption.) The corroboration
of these wondrous tales was really
of the most slender description.
What did it amount to? Some photographs.
{Was it possible that in this
age of ingenious manipulation
photographs could be accepted
as evidence?} What more? We have
a story of a flight and a descent
by ropes which precluded the
production of larger specimens.
It was ingenious, but not convincing.
It was understood that Lord John
Roxton claimed to have the skull
of a phororachus. He could only
say that he would like to see
that skull.
"LORD JOHN
ROXTON: `Is this fellow calling
me a liar?' (Uproar.)
"THE CHAIRMAN:
`Order! order! Dr. Illingworth,
I must direct
you to bring your remarks to
a conclusion and to move your
amendment.'
"DR. ILLINGWORTH:
`Your Grace, I have more to
say, but I bow
to your ruling. I move, then,
that, while Professor Summerlee
be thanked for his interesting
address, the whole matter shall
be regarded as `non-proven,'
and shall be referred back to
a larger, and possibly more reliable
Committee of Investigation.'
"It is difficult
to describe the confusion caused
by this
amendment. A large section of
the audience expressed their
indignation at such a slur upon
the travelers by noisy shouts
of dissent and cries of, `Don't
put it!' `Withdraw!' `Turn him
out!' On the other hand, the
malcontents--and it cannot be
denied that they were fairly
numerous--cheered for the amendment,
with cries of `Order!' `Chair!'
and `Fair play!' A scuffle broke
out in the back benches, and
blows were freely exchanged among
the medical students who crowded
that part of the hall. It was
only the moderating influence
of the presence of large numbers
of ladies which prevented an
absolute riot. Suddenly, however,
there was a pause, a hush, and
then complete silence. Professor
Challenger was on his feet. His
appearance and manner are peculiarly
arresting, and as he raised his
hand for order the whole audience
settled down expectantly to give
him a hearing.
"`It will be
within the recollection of
many present,' said Professor
Challenger, `that similar foolish
and unmannerly scenes marked
the last meeting at which I have
been able to address them. On
that occasion Professor Summerlee
was the chief offender, and though
he is now chastened and contrite,
the matter could not be entirely
forgotten. I have heard to-night
similar, but even more offensive,
sentiments from the person who
has just sat down, and though
it is a conscious effort of self-effacement
to come down to that person's
mental level, I will endeavor
to do so, in order to allay any
reasonable doubt which could
possibly exist in the minds of
anyone.' (Laughter and interruption.)
`I need not remind this audience
that, though Professor Summerlee,
as the head of the Committee
of Investigation, has been put
up to speak to-night, still it
is I who am the real prime mover
in this business, and that it
is mainly to me that any successful
result must be ascribed. I have
safely conducted these three
gentlemen to the spot mentioned,
and I have, as you have heard,
convinced them of the accuracy
of my previous account. We had
hoped that we should find upon
our return that no one was so
dense as to dispute our joint
conclusions. Warned, however,
by my previous experience, I
have not come without such proofs
as may convince a reasonable
man. As explained by Professor
Summerlee, our cameras have been
tampered with by the ape- men
when they ransacked our camp,
and most of our negatives ruined.'
(Jeers, laughter, and `Tell us
another!' from the back.) `I
have mentioned the ape-men, and
I cannot forbear from saying
that some of the sounds which
now meet my ears bring back most
vividly to my recollection my
experiences with those interesting
creatures.' (Laughter.) `In spite
of the destruction of so many
invaluable negatives, there still
remains in our collection a certain
number of corroborative photographs
showing the conditions of life
upon the plateau. Did they accuse
them of having forged these photographs?'
(A voice, `Yes,' and considerable
interruption which ended in several
men being put out of the hall.)
`The negatives were open to the
inspection of experts. But what
other evidence had they? Under
the conditions of their escape
it was naturally impossible to
bring a large amount of baggage,
but they had rescued Professor
Summerlee's collections of butterflies
and beetles, containing many
new species. Was this not evidence?'
(Several voices, `No.') `Who
said no?'
"DR. ILLINGWORTH
(rising): `Our point is that
such a collection
might have been made in other
places than a prehistoric plateau.'
(Applause.)
"PROFESSOR
CHALLENGER: `No doubt, sir,
we have to bow to
your scientific authority, although
I must admit that the name is
unfamiliar. Passing, then, both
the photographs and the entomological
collection, I come to the varied
and accurate information which
we bring with us upon points
which have never before been
elucidated. For example, upon
the domestic habits of the pterodactyl--`(A
voice: `Bosh,' and uproar)--`I
say, that upon the domestic habits
of the pterodactyl we can throw
a flood of light. I can exhibit
to you from my portfolio a picture
of that creature taken from life
which would convince you----'
"DR. ILLINGWORTH: `No picture
could convince us of anything.' "PROFESSOR
CHALLENGER: `You would require
to see the thing itself?'
"DR. ILLINGWORTH:
`Undoubtedly.'
"PROFESSOR
CHALLENGER: `And you would
accept that?'
"DR. ILLINGWORTH
(laughing): `Beyond a doubt.'
"It was at
this point that the sensation
of the evening
arose--a sensation so dramatic
that it can never have been paralleled
in the history of scientific
gatherings. Professor Challenger
raised his hand in the air as
a signal, and at once our colleague,
Mr. E. D. Malone, was observed
to rise and to make his way to
the back of the platform. An
instant later he re-appeared
in company of a gigantic negro,
the two of them bearing between
them a large square packing-case.
It was evidently of great weight,
and was slowly carried forward
and placed in front of the Professor's
chair. All sound had hushed in
the audience and everyone was
absorbed in the spectacle before
them. Professor Challenger drew
off the top of the case, which
formed a sliding lid. Peering
down into the box he snapped
his fingers several times and
was heard from the Press seat
to say, `Come, then, pretty,
pretty!' in a coaxing voice.
An instant later, with a scratching,
rattling sound, a most horrible
and loathsome creature appeared
from below and perched itself
upon the side of the case. Even
the unexpected fall of the Duke
of Durham into the orchestra,
which occurred at this moment,
could not distract the petrified
attention of the vast audience.
The face of the creature was
like the wildest gargoyle that
the imagination of a mad medieval
builder could have conceived.
It was malicious, horrible, with
two small red eyes as bright
as points of burning coal. Its
long, savage mouth, which was
held half-open, was full of a
double row of shark-like teeth.
Its shoulders were humped, and
round them were draped what appeared
to be a faded gray shawl. It
was the devil of our childhood
in person. There was a turmoil
in the audience--someone screamed,
two ladies in the front row fell
senseless from their chairs,
and there was a general movement
upon the platform to follow their
chairman into the orchestra.
For a moment there was danger
of a general panic. Professor
Challenger threw up his hands
to still the commotion, but the
movement alarmed the creature
beside him. Its strange shawl
suddenly unfurled, spread, and
fluttered as a pair of leathery
wings. Its owner grabbed at its
legs, but too late to hold it.
It had sprung from the perch
and was circling slowly round
the Queen's Hall with a dry,
leathery flapping of its ten-foot
wings, while a putrid and insidious
odor pervaded the room. The cries
of the people in the galleries,
who were alarmed at the near
approach of those glowing eyes
and that murderous beak, excited
the creature to a frenzy. Faster
and faster it flew, beating against
walls and chandeliers in a blind
frenzy of alarm. `The window!
For heaven's sake shut that window!'
roared the Professor from the
platform, dancing and wringing
his hands in an agony of apprehension.
Alas, his warning was too late!
In a moment the creature, beating
and bumping along the wall like
a huge moth within a gas-shade,
came upon the opening, squeezed
its hideous bulk through it,
and was gone. Professor Challenger
fell back into his chair with
his face buried in his hands,
while the audience gave one long,
deep sigh of relief as they realized
that the incident was over.
"Then--oh! how shall one describe
what took place then--when the
full exuberance of the majority
and the full reaction of the
minority united to make one great
wave of enthusiasm, which rolled
from the back of the hall, gathering
volume as it came, swept over
the orchestra, submerged the
platform, and carried the four
heroes away upon its crest?" (Good
for you, Mac!) "If the audience
had done less than justice, surely
it made ample amends. Every one
was on his feet. Every one was
moving, shouting, gesticulating.
A dense crowd of cheering men
were round the four travelers.
`Up with them! up with them!'
cried a hundred voices. In a
moment four figures shot up above
the crowd. In vain they strove
to break loose. They were held
in their lofty places of honor.
It would have been hard to let
them down if it had been wished,
so dense was the crowd around
them. `Regent Street! Regent
Street!' sounded the voices.
There was a swirl in the packed
multitude, and a slow current,
bearing the four upon their shoulders,
made for the door. Out in the
street the scene was extraordinary.
An assemblage of not less than
a hundred thousand people was
waiting. The close-packed throng
extended from the other side
of the Langham Hotel to Oxford
Circus. A roar of acclamation
greeted the four adventurers
as they appeared, high above
the heads of the people, under
the vivid electric lamps outside
the hall. `A procession! A procession!'
was the cry. In a dense phalanx,
blocking the streets from side
to side, the crowd set forth,
taking the route of Regent Street,
Pall Mall, St. James's Street,
and Piccadilly. The whole central
traffic of London was held up,
and many collisions were reported
between the demonstrators upon
the one side and the police and
taxi-cabmen upon the other. Finally,
it was not until after midnight
that the four travelers were
released at the entrance to Lord
John Roxton's chambers in the
Albany, and that the exuberant
crowd, having sung `They are
Jolly Good Fellows' in chorus,
concluded their program with
`God Save the King.' So ended
one of the most remarkable evenings
that London has seen for a considerable
time."
So far my friend
Macdona; and it may be taken
as a fairly accurate,
if florid, account of the proceedings.
As to the main incident, it was
a bewildering surprise to the
audience, but not, I need hardly
say, to us. The reader will remember
how I met Lord John Roxton upon
the very occasion when, in his
protective crinoline, he had
gone to bring the "Devil's chick" as
he called it, for Professor Challenger.
I have hinted also at the trouble
which the Professor's baggage
gave us when we left the plateau,
and had I described our voyage
I might have said a good deal
of the worry we had to coax with
putrid fish the appetite of our
filthy companion. If I have not
said much about it before, it
was, of course, that the Professor's
earnest desire was that no possible
rumor of the unanswerable argument
which we carried should be allowed
to leak out until the moment
came when his enemies were to
be confuted.
One word as to the fate of
the London pterodactyl. Nothing
can be said to be certain upon
this point. There is the evidence
of two frightened women that
it perched upon the roof of the
Queen's Hall and remained there
like a diabolical statue for
some hours. The next day it came
out in the evening papers that
Private Miles, of the Coldstream
Guards, on duty outside Marlborough
House, had deserted his post
without leave, and was therefore
courtmartialed. Private Miles'
account, that he dropped his
rifle and took to his heels down
the Mall because on looking up
he had suddenly seen the devil
between him and the moon, was
not accepted by the Court, and
yet it may have a direct bearing
upon the point at issue. The
only other evidence which I can
adduce is from the log of the
SS. Friesland, a Dutch-American
liner, which asserts that at
nine next morning, Start Point
being at the time ten miles upon
their starboard quarter, they
were passed by something between
a flying goat and a monstrous
bat, which was heading at a prodigious
pace south and west. If its homing
instinct led it upon the right
line, there can be no doubt that
somewhere out in the wastes of
the Atlantic the last European
pterodactyl found its end.
And Gladys--oh, my Gladys!--Gladys
of the mystic lake, now to be
re-named the Central, for never
shall she have immortality through
me. Did I not always see some
hard fiber in her nature? Did
I not, even at the time when
I was proud to obey her behest,
feel that it was surely a poor
love which could drive a lover
to his death or the danger of
it? Did I not, in my truest thoughts,
always recurring and always dismissed,
see past the beauty of the face,
and, peering into the soul, discern
the twin shadows of selfishness
and of fickleness glooming at
the back of it? Did she love
the heroic and the spectacular
for its own noble sake, or was
it for the glory which might,
without effort or sacrifice,
be reflected upon herself? Or
are these thoughts the vain wisdom
which comes after the event?
It was the shock of my life.
For a moment it had turned me
to a cynic. But already, as I
write, a week has passed, and
we have had our momentous interview
with Lord John Roxton and--well,
perhaps things might be worse.
Let me tell it in a few words.
No letter or telegram had come
to me at Southampton, and I reached
the little villa at Streatham
about ten o'clock that night
in a fever of alarm. Was she
dead or alive? Where were all
my nightly dreams of the open
arms, the smiling face, the words
of praise for her man who had
risked his life to humor her
whim? Already I was down from
the high peaks and standing flat-footed
upon earth. Yet some good reasons
given might still lift me to
the clouds once more. I rushed
down the garden path, hammered
at the door, heard the voice
of Gladys within, pushed past
the staring maid, and strode
into the sitting-room. She was
seated in a low settee under
the shaded standard lamp by the
piano. In three steps I was across
the room and had both her hands
in mine.
"Gladys!" I cried, "Gladys!"
She looked up with amazement
in her face. She was altered
in some subtle way. The expression
of her eyes, the hard upward
stare, the set of the lips, was
new to me. She drew back her
hands.
"What do you mean?" she
said.
"Gladys!" I cried. "What
is the matter? You are my Gladys,
are you not--little Gladys Hungerton?"
"No," said she, "I
am Gladys Potts. Let me introduce
you to
my husband."
How absurd life is! I found
myself mechanically bowing and
shaking hands with a little ginger-haired
man who was coiled up in the
deep arm-chair which had once
been sacred to my own use. We
bobbed and grinned in front of
each other.
"Father lets us stay here.
We are getting our house ready," said
Gladys.
"Oh, yes," said
I.
"You didn't
get my letter at Para, then?"
"No, I got
no letter."
"Oh, what a
pity! It would have made all
clear."
"It is quite clear," said
I.
"I've told William all about
you," said she. "We have no secrets.
I am so sorry about it. But it
couldn't have been so very deep,
could it, if you could go off
to the other end of the world
and leave me here alone. You're
not crabby, are you?"
"No, no, not
at all. I think I'll go."
"Have some refreshment," said
the little man, and he added,
in a confidential way, "It's
always like this, ain't it? And
must be unless you had polygamy,
only the other way round; you
understand." He laughed like
an idiot, while I made for the
door.
I was through it, when a sudden
fantastic impulse came upon me,
and I went back to my successful
rival, who looked nervously at
the electric push.
"Will you answer a question?" I
asked.
"Well, within reason," said
he.
"How did you
do it? Have you searched for
hidden treasure,
or discovered a pole, or done
time on a pirate, or flown the
Channel, or what? Where is the
glamour of romance? How did you
get it?"
He stared at me with a hopeless
expression upon his vacuous,
good-natured, scrubby little
face.
"Don't you think all this is
a little too personal?" he said.
"Well, just one question," I
cried. "What are you? What is
your profession?"
"I am a solicitor's clerk," said
he. "Second man at Johnson and
Merivale's, 41 Chancery Lane."
"Good-night!" said
I, and vanished, like all disconsolate
and broken-hearted
heroes, into the darkness, with
grief and rage and laughter all
simmering within me like a boiling
pot.
One more little scene, and
I have done. Last night we all
supped at Lord John Roxton's
rooms, and sitting together afterwards
we smoked in good comradeship
and talked our adventures over.
It was strange under these altered
surroundings to see the old,
well-known faces and figures.
There was Challenger, with his
smile of condescension, his drooping
eyelids, his intolerant eyes,
his aggressive beard, his huge
chest, swelling and puffing as
he laid down the law to Summerlee.
And Summerlee, too, there he
was with his short briar between
his thin moustache and his gray
goat's- beard, his worn face
protruded in eager debate as
he queried all Challenger's propositions.
Finally, there was our host,
with his rugged, eagle face,
and his cold, blue, glacier eyes
with always a shimmer of devilment
and of humor down in the depths
of them. Such is the last picture
of them that I have carried away.
It was after supper, in his
own sanctum--the room of the
pink radiance and the innumerable
trophies--that Lord John Roxton
had something to say to us. From
a cupboard he had brought an
old cigar-box, and this he laid
before him on the table.
"There's one thing," said he, "that
maybe I should have spoken about
before this, but I wanted to
know a little more clearly where
I was. No use to raise hopes
and let them down again. But
it's facts, not hopes, with us
now. You may remember that day
we found the pterodactyl rookery
in the swamp--what? Well, somethin'
in the lie of the land took my
notice. Perhaps it has escaped
you, so I will tell you. It was
a volcanic vent full of blue
clay." The Professors nodded.
"Well, now,
in the whole world I've only
had to do with one
place that was a volcanic vent
of blue clay. That was the great
De Beers Diamond Mine of Kimberley--what?
So you see I got diamonds into
my head. I rigged up a contraption
to hold off those stinking beasts,
and I spent a happy day there
with a spud. This is what I got."
He opened his cigar-box, and
tilting it over he poured about
twenty or thirty rough stones,
varying from the size of beans
to that of chestnuts, on the
table.
"Perhaps you
think I should have told you
then. Well, so
I should, only I know there are
a lot of traps for the unwary,
and that stones may be of any
size and yet of little value
where color and consistency are
clean off. Therefore, I brought
them back, and on the first day
at home I took one round to Spink's,
and asked him to have it roughly
cut and valued."
He took a pill-box from his
pocket, and spilled out of it
a beautiful glittering diamond,
one of the finest stones that
I have ever seen.
"There's the result," said
he. "He prices the lot at a minimum
of two hundred thousand pounds.
Of course it is fair shares between
us. I won't hear of anythin'
else. Well, Challenger, what
will you do with your fifty thousand?"
"If you really persist in your
generous view," said the Professor, "I
should found a private museum,
which has long been one of my
dreams."
"And you, Summerlee?"
"I would retire
from teaching, and so find
time for my final
classification of the chalk fossils."
"I'll use my own," said Lord
John Roxton, "in fitting a well-formed
expedition and having another
look at the dear old plateau.
As to you, young fellah, you,
of course, will spend yours in
gettin' married."
"Not just yet," said I, with
a rueful smile. "I think, if
you will have me, that I would
rather go with you."
Lord Roxton said nothing, but
a brown hand was stretched out
to me across the table. |