The Lost World
damnedest imposter in London--a vile, crawling journalist, who has no
more science than he has decency in his composition!"
He had sprung to his feet with a mad rage in his eyes. Even at that
moment of tension I found time for amazement at the discovery that he
was quite a short man, his head not higher than my shoulder--a stunted
Hercules whose tremendous vitality had all run to depth, breadth, and
brain.
"Gibberish!" he cried, leaning forward, with his fingers on the table
and his face projecting. "That's what I have been talking to you,
sir--scientific gibberish! Did you think you could match cunning with
me--you with your walnut of a brain? You think you are omnipotent, you
infernal scribblers, don't you? That your praise can make a man and
your blame can break him? We must all bow to you, and try to get a
favorable word, must we? This man shall have a leg up, and this man
shall have a dressing down! Creeping vermin, I know you! You've got
out of your station. Time was when your ears were clipped. You've
lost your sense of proportion. Swollen gas-bags! I'll keep you in
your proper place. Yes, sir, you haven't got over G. E. C. There's
one man who is still your master. He warned you off, but if you WILL
come, by the Lord you do it at your own risk. Forfeit, my good Mr.
Malone, I claim forfeit! You have played a rather dangerous game, and
it strikes me that you have lost it."
"Look here, sir," said I, backing to the door and opening it; "you can
be as abusive as you like. But there is a limit. You shall not
assault me."
"Shall I not?" He was slowly advancing in a peculiarly menacing way,
but he stopped now and put his big hands into the side-pockets of a
rather boyish short jacket which he wore. "I have thrown several of
you out of the house. You will be the fourth or fifth. Three pound
fifteen each--that is how it averaged. Expensive, but very necessary.
Now, sir, why should you not follow your brethren? I rather think you
must." He resumed his unpleasant and stealthy advance, pointing his
toes as he walked, like a dancing master.
I could have bolted for the hall door, but it would have been too
ignominious. Besides, a little glow of righteous anger was springing
up within me. I had been hopelessly in the wrong before, but this
man's menaces were putting me in the right.
"I'll trouble you to keep your hands off, sir. I'll not stand it."
"Dear me!" His black moustache lifted and a white fang twinkled in a
sneer. "You won't stand it, eh?"
"Don't be such a fool, Professor!" I cried. "What can you hope for?
I'm fifteen stone, as hard as nails, and play center three-quarter
every Saturday for the London Irish. I'm not the man----"
It was at that moment that he rushed me. It was lucky that I had
opened the door, or we should have gone through it. We did a
Catharine-wheel together down the passage. Somehow we gathered up a
chair upon our way, and bounded on with it towards the street. My
mouth was full of his beard, our arms were locked, our bodies
intertwined, and that infernal chair radiated its legs all round us.
The watchful Austin had thrown open the hall door. We went with a back
somersault down the front steps. I have seen the two Macs attempt
something of the kind at the halls, but it appears to take some
practise to do it without hurting oneself. The chair went to matchwood
at the bottom, and we rolled apart into the gutter. He sprang to his
feet, waving his fists and wheezing like an asthmatic.
"Had enough?" he panted.
"You infernal bully!" I cried, as I gathered myself together.
Then and there we should have tried the thing out, for he was
effervescing with fight, but fortunately I was rescued from an odious
situation. A policeman was beside us, his notebook in his hand.
"What's all this? You ought to be ashamed" said the policeman. It was
the most rational remark which I had heard in Enmore Park. "Well," he
insisted, turning to me, "what is it, then?"
"This man attacked me," said I.
"Did you attack him?" asked the policeman.
The Professor breathed hard and said nothing.
"It's not the first time, either," said the policeman, severely,
shaking his head. "You were in trouble last month for the same thing.
You've blackened this young man's eye. Do you give him in charge, sir?"
I relented.
"No," said I, "I do not."
"What's that?" said the policeman.
"I was to blame myself. I intruded upon him. He gave me fair warning."
The policeman snapped up his notebook.
"Don't let us have any more such goings-on," said he. "Now, then!
Move on, there, move on!" This to a butcher's boy, a maid, and one or
two loafers who had collected. He clumped heavily down the street,
driving this little flock before him. The Professor looked at me, and
there was something humorous at the back of his eyes.
"Come in!" said he. "I've not done with you yet."
The speech had a sinister sound, but I followed him none the less into
the house. The man-servant, Austin, like a wooden image, closed the
door behind us.
CHAPTER IV
"It's Just the very Biggest Thing in the World"
Hardly was it shut when Mrs. Challenger darted out from the
dining-room. The small woman was in a furious temper. She barred her
husband's way like an enraged chicken in front of a bulldog. It was
evident that she had seen my exit, but had not observed my return.
"You brute, George!" she screamed. "You've hurt that nice young man."
He jerked backwards with his thumb.
"Here he is, safe and sound behind me."
She was confused, but not unduly so.
"I am so sorry, I didn't see you."
"I assure you, madam, that it is all right."
"He has marked your poor face! Oh, George, what a brute you are!
Nothing but scandals from one end of the week to the other. Everyone
hating and making fun of you. You've finished my patience. This ends
it."
"Dirty linen," he rumbled.
"It's not a secret," she cried. "Do you suppose that the whole
street--the whole of London, for that matter---- Get away, Austin, we
don't want you here. Do you suppose they don't all talk about you?
Where is your dignity? You, a man who should have been Regius
Professor at a great University with a thousand students all revering
you. Where is your dignity, George?"
"How about yours, my dear?"
"You try me too much. A ruffian--a common brawling ruffian--that's
what you have become."
"Be good, Jessie."
"A roaring, raging bully!"
"That's done it! Stool of penance!" said he.
To my amazement he stooped, picked her up, and placed her sitting upon
a high pedestal of black marble in the angle of the hall. It was at
least seven feet high, and so thin that she could hardly balance upon
it. A more absurd object than she presented cocked up there with her
face convulsed with anger, her feet dangling, and her body rigid for
fear of an upset, I could not imagine.
"Let me down!" she wailed.
"Say 'please.'"
"You brute, George! Let me down this instant!"
"Come into the study, Mr. Malone."
"Really, sir----!" said I, looking at the lady.
"Here's Mr. Malone pleading for you, Jessie. Say 'please,' and down
you come."
"Oh, you brute! Please! please!"
He took her down as if she had been a canary.
"You must behave yourself, dear. Mr. Malone is a Pressman. He will
have it all in his rag to-morrow, and sell an extra dozen among our
neighbors. 'Strange story of high life'--you felt fairly high on that
pedestal, did you not? Then a sub-title, 'Glimpse of a singular
menage.' He's a foul feeder, is Mr. Malone, a carrion eater, like all
of his kind--porcus ex grege diaboli--a swine from the devil's herd.
That's it, Malone--what?"
"You are really intolerable!" said I, hotly.
He bellowed with laughter.
"We shall have a coalition presently," he boomed, looking from his wife
to me and puffing out his enormous chest. Then, suddenly altering his
tone, "Excuse this frivolous family badinage, Mr. Malone. I called you
back for some more serious purpose than to mix you up with our little
domestic pleasantries. Run away, little woman, and don't fret." He
placed a huge hand upon each of her shoulders. "All that you say is
perfectly true. I should be a better man if I did what you advise, but
I shouldn't be quite George Edward Challenger. There are plenty of
better men, my dear, but only one G. E. C. So make the best of him."
He suddenly gave her a resounding kiss, which embarrassed me even more
than his violence had done. "Now, Mr. Malone," he continued, with a
great accession of dignity, "this way, if YOU please."
We re-entered the room which we had left so tumultuously ten minutes
before. The Professor closed the door carefully behind us, motioned me
into an arm-chair, and pushed a cigar-box under my nose.
"Real San Juan Colorado," he said. "Excitable people like you are the
better for narcotics. Heavens! don't bite it! Cut--and cut with
reverence! Now lean back, and listen attentively to whatever I may
care to say to you. If any remark should occur to you, you can reserve
it for some more opportune time.
"First of all, as to your return to my house after your most
justifiable expulsion"--he protruded his beard, and stared at me as one
who challenges and invites contradiction--"after, as I say, your
well-merited expulsion. The reason lay in your answer to that most
officious policeman, in which I seemed to discern some glimmering of
good feeling upon your part--more, at any rate, than I am accustomed to
associate with your profession. In admitting that the fault of the
incident lay with you, you gave some evidence of a certain mental
detachment and breadth of view which attracted my favorable notice.
The sub-species of the human race to which you unfortunately belong has
always been below my mental horizon. Your words brought you suddenly
above it. You swam up into my serious notice. For this reason I asked
you to return with me, as I was minded to make your further
acquaintance. You will kindly deposit your ash in the small Japanese
tray on the bamboo table which stands at your left elbow."
All this he boomed forth like a professor addressing his class. He had
swung round his revolving chair so as to face me, and he sat all puffed
out like an enormous bull-frog, his head laid back and his eyes
half-covered by supercilious lids. Now he suddenly turned himself
sideways, and all I could see of him was tangled hair with a red,
protruding ear. He was scratching about among the litter of papers
upon his desk. He faced me presently with what looked like a very
tattered sketch-book in his hand.
"I am going to talk to you about South America," said he. "No comments
if you please. First of all, I wish you to understand that nothing I
tell you now is to be repeated in any public way unless you have my
express permission. That permission will, in all human probability,
never be given. Is that clear?"
"It is very hard," said I. "Surely a judicious account----"
He replaced the notebook upon the table.
"That ends it," said he. "I wish you a very good morning."
"No, no!" I cried. "I submit to any conditions. So far as I can see,
I have no choice."
"None in the world," said he.
"Well, then, I promise."
"Word of honor?"
"Word of honor."
He looked at me with doubt in his insolent eyes.
"After all, what do I know about your honor?" said he.
"Upon my word, sir," I cried, angrily, "you take very great liberties!
I have never been so insulted in my life."
He seemed more interested than annoyed at my outbreak.
"Round-headed," he muttered. "Brachycephalic, gray-eyed, black-haired,
with suggestion of the negroid. Celtic, I presume?"