The Lost World (Professor Challenger 1)

In the center of the rich red carpet was a black and gold Louis Quinzetable, a lovely antique, now sacrilegiously desecrated with marks ofglasses and the scars of cigar-stumps. On it stood a silver tray ofsmokables and a burnished spirit-stand, from which and an adjacentsiphon my silent host proceeded to charge two high glasses. Havingindicated an arm-chair to me and placed my refreshment near it, hehanded me a long, smooth Havana. Then, seating himself opposite to me,he looked at me long and fixedly with his strange, twinkling, recklesseyes--eyes of a cold light blue, the color of a glacier lake.

Through the thin haze of my cigar-smoke I noted the details of a facewhich was already familiar to me from many photographs--thestrongly-curved nose, the hollow, worn cheeks, the dark, ruddy hair,thin at the top, the crisp, virile moustaches, the small, aggressivetuft upon his projecting chin. Something there was of Napoleon III.,something of Don Quixote, and yet again something which was the essenceof the English country gentleman, the keen, alert, open-air lover ofdogs and of horses. His skin was of a rich flower-pot red from sun andwind. His eyebrows were tufted and overhanging, which gave thosenaturally cold eyes an almost ferocious aspect, an impression which wasincreased by his strong and furrowed brow. In figure he was spare, butvery strongly built--indeed, he had often proved that there were fewmen in England capable of such sustained exertions. His height was alittle over six feet, but he seemed shorter on account of a peculiarrounding of the shoulders. Such was the famous Lord John Roxton as hesat opposite to me, biting hard upon his cigar and watching me steadilyin a long and embarrassing silence.

"Well," said he, at last, "we've gone and done it, young fellah mylad." (This curious phrase he pronounced as if it were all oneword--"young-fellah-me-lad.") "Yes, we've taken a jump, you an' me. Isuppose, now, when you went into that room there was no such notion inyour head--what?"

"No thought of it."

"The same here. No thought of it. And here we are, up to our necks inthe tureen. Why, I've only been back three weeks from Uganda, andtaken a place in Scotland, and signed the lease and all. Pretty goin'son--what? How does it hit you?"

"Well, it is all in the main line of my business. I am a journalist onthe Gazette."

"Of course--you said so when you took it on. By the way, I've got asmall job for you, if you'll help me."

"With pleasure."

"Don't mind takin' a risk, do you?"

"What is the risk?"

"Well, it's Ballinger--he's the risk. You've heard of him?"

"No."

"Why, young fellah, where HAVE you lived? Sir John Ballinger is thebest gentleman jock in the north country. I could hold him on the flatat my best, but over jumps he's my master. Well, it's an open secretthat when he's out of trainin' he drinks hard--strikin' an average, hecalls it. He got delirium on Toosday, and has been ragin' like a devilever since. His room is above this. The doctors say that it is all upwith the old dear unless some food is got into him, but as he lies inbed with a revolver on his coverlet, and swears he will put six of thebest through anyone that comes near him, there's been a bit of a strikeamong the serving-men. He's a hard nail, is Jack, and a dead shot,too, but you can't leave a Grand National winner to die likethat--what?"

"What do you mean to do, then?" I asked.

"Well, my idea was that you and I could rush him. He may be dozin',and at the worst he can only wing one of us, and the other should havehim. If we can get his bolster-cover round his arms and then 'phone upa stomach-pump, we'll give the old dear the supper of his life."

It was a rather desperate business to come suddenly into one's day'swork. I don't think that I am a particularly brave man. I have anIrish imagination which makes the unknown and the untried more terriblethan they are. On the other hand, I was brought up with a horror ofcowardice and with a terror of such a stigma. I dare say that I couldthrow myself over a precipice, like the Hun in the history books, if mycourage to do it were questioned, and yet it would surely be pride andfear, rather than courage, which would be my inspiration. Therefore,although every nerve in my body shrank from the whisky-maddened figurewhich I pictured in the room above, I still answered, in as careless avoice as I could command, that I was ready to go. Some further remarkof Lord Roxton's about the danger only made me irritable.

"Talking won't make it any better," said I. "Come on."

I rose from my chair and he from his. Then with a little confidentialchuckle of laughter, he patted me two or three times on the chest,finally pushing me back into my chair.

"All right, sonny my lad--you'll do," said he. I looked up in surprise.

"I saw after Jack Ballinger myself this mornin'. He blew a hole in theskirt of my kimono, bless his shaky old hand, but we got a jacket onhim, and he's to be all right in a week. I say, young fellah, I hopeyou don't mind--what? You see, between you an' me close-tiled, I lookon this South American business as a mighty serious thing, and if Ihave a pal with me I want a man I can bank on. So I sized you down,and I'm bound to say that you came well out of it. You see, it's allup to you and me, for this old Summerlee man will want dry-nursin' fromthe first. By the way, are you by any chance the Malone who isexpected to get his Rugby cap for Ireland?"

"A reserve, perhaps."

"I thought I remembered your face. Why, I was there when you got thattry against Richmond--as fine a swervin' run as I saw the whole season.I never miss a Rugby match if I can help it, for it is the manliestgame we have left. Well, I didn't ask you in here just to talk sport.We've got to fix our business. Here are the sailin's, on the firstpage of the Times. There's a Booth boat for Para next Wednesday week,and if the Professor and you can work it, I think we should takeit--what? Very good, I'll fix it with him. What about your outfit?"

"My paper will see to that."

"Can you shoot?"

"About average Territorial standard."

"Good Lord! as bad as that? It's the last thing you young fellahsthink of learnin'. You're all bees without stings, so far as lookin'after the hive goes. You'll look silly, some o' these days, whensomeone comes along an' sneaks the honey. But you'll need to hold yourgun straight in South America, for, unless our friend the Professor isa madman or a liar, we may see some queer things before we get back.What gun have you?"

He crossed to an oaken cupboard, and as he threw it open I caught aglimpse of glistening rows of parallel barrels, like the pipes of anorgan.

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"I'll see what I can spare you out of my own battery," said he.

One by one he took out a succession of beautiful rifles, opening andshutting them with a snap and a clang, and then patting them as he putthem back into the rack as tenderly as a mother would fondle herchildren.