Lost World writer. The Lost World (novel)

Chapter XVI. OUTSIDE! OUTSIDE! I consider it my duty to express my deep gratitude to all our friends from the Amazon, who received us so warmly and showed us so much attention. Special thanks are due to Señor Penalosa and other officials of the Brazilian government, whose assistance ensured our return home, as well as to Señor Pereira from the city of Pará, who prudently prepared for us everything necessary in terms of clothing, so that now we will not be ashamed to appear in the civilized world. Unfortunately, we did not repay our benefactors well for their hospitality. But what to do! I take this opportunity to assure those who decide to follow in our footsteps to the Country of Maple White that it will only be a waste of time and money. In our stories, we changed all the names, and no matter how you study the reports of the expedition, you will still not be able to even get close to those places. We thought that the increased interest in us in South America was purely local, but who could have predicted what a sensation the first vague rumors about our adventures would create in Europe! It turns out that not only the scientific world was interested in us, but also the general public, although we learned about this relatively late. When Iberia was already fifty miles from Southampton, the wireless telegraph began to transmit to us dispatch after dispatch from various newspapers and agencies, which offered colossal fees for even the briefest report of the results of the expedition. However, our duty obliged us first of all to report to the Zoological Institute , who commissioned us to make an investigation, and after consulting among ourselves, we refused to give any information to the press. Southampton was swarming with reporters, but they got nothing from us, and therefore it is easy to imagine with what interest the public awaited the meeting scheduled for the evening November 7. The hall of the Zoological Institute - the same one where the commission of inquiry was created - was considered insufficiently spacious, and the meeting had to be moved to Queens Hall on Regent Street. Now no one doubts that even if the organizers had rented the Albert Hall, then it, too, would not have accommodated everyone.The significant meeting was scheduled for the second evening after our arrival in London. It was assumed that the first day would be spent on personal matters. I'm keeping quiet about mine for now. Time will pass, and maybe it will be easier for me to think and even talk about all this. At the beginning of my story, I revealed to the reader what forces prompted me to act. Now, perhaps, we should show how it all ended. But the time will come when I will tell myself that there is nothing to regret. Those forces pushed me on this path, and by their will I learned the value of real adventures. And now I'll move on to last event, which completed our epic. As I was racking my brain for how best to describe it, my eye fell on the November 8 issue of the Daily Gazette, which contained a detailed report of a meeting at the Zoological Institute, written by my friend and colleague, McDonagh. I’ll give it here in full, starting with the title, because you still can’t think of anything better. Our Daily, proud of the fact that its own correspondent took part in the expedition, devoted especially much space to the events at the Zoological Institute, but other major newspapers also did not ignore them. So, I give the floor to my friend McDonagh: NEW WORLD CROWDED MEETING IN QUEEN'S HALL STORMY SCENES IN THE HALL AN UNUSUAL INCIDENT WHAT WAS IT? NIGHT DEMONSTRATION ON REGENT STREET (From our special correspondent) “The long-awaited meeting of the Zoological Institute, at which the report of the commission sent a year ago was heard South America to verify the information reported by Professor Challenger about the presence of forms of prehistoric life on this continent took place yesterday in Queen's Hall, and we can safely say: this day will go down in the history of science, for its events were of such an extraordinary and sensational nature that they are unlikely to will ever be erased from the memory of those present. (Oh, my fellow writer, MacDonagh! What a monstrously long introductory phrase!) Officially, invitation cards were distributed only to members of the institute and those close to them, but, as you know, the latter concept is very loose, and therefore the large Queens Hall was packed to capacity long before the start of the meeting, scheduled for eight o'clock. However, the general public, feeling unjustifiably offended, stormed the doors of the hall after a lengthy battle with the police, during which several people were injured, including Inspector Scoble, who suffered a broken leg. Including these rioters, who filled not only all the aisles, but also the places reserved for representatives of the press, it was estimated that no less than five thousand people were awaiting the arrival of travelers. When they finally appeared, they were led onto the stage, where by that time the greatest scientists not only from England, but also from France and Germany had gathered. Sweden was also represented in the person of the famous zoologist, professor at Uppsala University, Mr. Sergius. The appearance of the four heroes of the day was greeted with an ovation: the entire hall rose as one person and greeted them with shouts and applause. However, an attentive observer could detect a certain dissonant note in this storm of delight and conclude from this that the meeting would not proceed entirely peacefully. But none of those present could have predicted what actually happened. There is no need to describe the appearance of our four travelers here, since their photographs are published in all newspapers. The ordeals they are said to have endured had little effect on them, although they left our shores not so tanned at all. Professor Challenger's beard has become, perhaps, even more luxuriant, Professor Summerlee's facial features are a little drier, Lord John Roxton has lost a little weight, but, in general, their state of health leaves nothing to be desired. As for the representative of our newspaper, the famous athlete and international rugby player E. D. Malone, he is in full shape, and his honest, but not sparklingly beautiful, face shines with a complacent smile. (Okay, Mac, just get caught by me!) When silence was restored and everyone was seated, the presiding officer, the Duke of Durham, addressed the meeting with a speech. The Duke immediately announced that since the audience was about to meet the travelers themselves, he did not intend to detain their attention and anticipate the report of Professor Summerlee, the chairman of the commission of inquiry, whose labors, judging by the available information, were crowned with brilliant success. (Applause.) Apparently, the age of romance has not passed, and the ardent imagination of the poet can still rest on the solid foundation of science. “In conclusion,” said the Duke, “I can only express my joy—and in this I will undoubtedly be supported by all present—that the gentlemen have returned healthy and unharmed from their difficult and dangerous journey, for with the death of this expedition science would have suffered almost irreparable losses." (Noisy applause, joined by Professor Challenger.) The appearance of Professor Summerlee at the department again caused a storm of delight, and his speech was continually interrupted by applause. We will not quote it verbatim, since a detailed report on the work of the expedition, written by our correspondent, will be published by the Daily Gazette as a special brochure. Therefore, we will limit ourselves only summary Professor Summerlee's report. Having reminded the assembly how the idea of ​​sending an expedition arose, the speaker paid tribute to Professor Challenger and apologized to him for the former mistrust of his words, now fully confirmed. He then outlined the route of the journey, carefully avoiding any indications that could serve as a reference to the geographical position of this extraordinary plateau; described in a few words the transition from the shores of the Amazon to the mountain range and literally shocked his listeners with the story of the expedition’s repeated attempts to climb the plateau, which ultimately cost them at the cost of the lives of two devoted mestizo guides. (We owe this unexpected interpretation of events to Summerlee, who wished to avoid certain sensitive issues.) Having climbed with his listeners to the top of a mountain ridge and made them feel what the collapse of the bridge - their only connection with the outside world - meant to the four travelers, the professor began to describe horrors and delights of this extraordinary country. He spoke little about his adventures, but tried in every possible way to emphasize what a rich contribution to science the expedition made by observing representatives of the animal and plant kingdoms of the plateau. The insect world there is especially rich in Coleoptera and Squamoptera, and within a few weeks the expedition was able to identify forty-six species of the first family and ninety-four of the second. But, as one might expect, the public was mainly interested in large animals, especially those considered long extinct. The professor gave a long list of such prehistoric monsters, assuring his listeners that this list could be significantly expanded after a thorough study of the plateau. He and his companions were able to see with their own eyes, though mostly from a distance, at least a dozen animals still unknown to science. Over time, they will certainly be properly studied and classified. As examples, the professor cited a dark purple snake fifty-one feet long, a white creature, most likely a mammal, that emits phosphorus light in the dark, and a huge black butterfly, the bites of which the Indians say are poisonous. In addition to completely new species of living beings, the plateau is replete with prehistoric animals known to science; some of them should be dated to the Early Jurassic period. Here the name was given to a gigantic stegosaurus that Mr. Malone once came across at a watering hole on the lake. The same exact animal was sketched in the album of an American artist who penetrated into this unknown world even before the expedition. Professor Summerlee also described the iguanodon and the pterodactyl, the first two monsters he encountered on the plateau, and shuddered his audience by telling about the most terrible predators that inhabited this world - the dinosaurs that more than once pursued one or the other member of the expedition. Then the professor spoke in detail about the huge ferocious bird Fororakos and about the gigantic moose that are still found on the plateaus of that country. But the delight of the audience reached its highest limit when the professor told her the secrets of the central lake. Listening to the calm speech of this sober scientist, you wanted to pinch yourself to make sure that this was not a dream, that you were actually hearing about three-eyed fish-like lizards and giant water snakes living in these mysterious depths. He then proceeded to describe the natives and a tribe of apes who appear to be the result of the evolution of the Javan Pithecanthropus, and therefore more closely approximate than any other species of the animal kingdom to the hypothetical creature known as the missing link between ape and man. "Finally, the professor amused the audience by describing an ingenious but extremely dangerous aeronautical apparatus - the invention of Professor Challenger, and at the conclusion of his extremely interesting report he told how the expedition managed to return to the civilized world. It was assumed that this would be the end of the meeting and that the professor's proposal Sergius, the resolution expressing gratitude to the members of the commission of inquiry will be duly voted on and adopted. However, subsequent events did not develop smoothly. From the very beginning of the meeting, a hostile part of the public made itself known every now and then, and as soon as Professor Summerlee finished his report, Dr. James Illingworth from Edinburgh rose from his seat and addressed the chairman with a question: should an amendment to it be discussed before the resolution is voted on? Chairman. Yes, sir, if there is one. Dr. Illingworth. I have a correction, Your Grace. Chairman. In that case, announce it. Professor Summerlee (jumping up from his seat). Your Grace, allow me to inform everyone that this man has been my personal enemy ever since we had a debate with him on the pages of the Scientific Review magazine. Chairman. Personal issues do not concern us. Carry on, Dr. Illingworth. The friends of our travelers made such a noise that Dr. Illingworth was at times almost inaudible. Some even tried to drag him from the pulpit. But, possessing remarkable strength and a powerful voice, Dr. Illingworth overcame all obstacles and brought his speech to the end. From the moment he rose from his seat, it became clear to everyone that he had many supporters in the hall, although they constituted a minority of the audience. A significant part of the public was in a wait-and-see mood and so far remained neutral. To begin with, Professor Illingworth assured Professor Challenger and Professor Summerlee of his deepest respect for their scientific work, but then noted with regret that his amendment to the resolution was somehow attributed to some personal motives, when in fact he was guided solely by a desire for truth. In essence, he now takes the same position that Professor Summerlee occupied at the last meeting. Professor Challenger then put forward a number of theses that were questioned by his colleague. Now this same colleague is making exactly the same statements and expects that no one will dispute them. Is this logical? (Shouts: “Yes!.., “No!” In the box reserved for representatives of the press, Professor Challenger is heard asking the chairman for permission to put Dr. Illingworth out the door.) A year ago, one person said very strange things. Now it’s the same, and, perhaps, to an even greater extent, four people do. But can this serve as a decisive factor where we are talking about almost a revolution in science? Everyone remembers the case when travelers returned from distant, unknown lands and spread all sorts of fables, which were too readily believed. Does the London Zoological Institute really want to find itself in the position of a gullible? The members of the investigation commission are very worthy people, no one will deny this. But human nature is extremely complex. The desire to advance can lead any professor astray from the true path. All we are like butterflies flying towards the blaze of glory.Big game hunters are not averse to sinning against the truth to spite their rivals, and journalists are so greedy for all sorts of sensations that they often call on their rich imagination to help the facts. Each of the commission members could have had their own motives, guided by which they inflated the results of the expedition. (“Shame! Shame!”) He does not want to insult anyone (“However, he insults!” Noise in the hall.), ... but the evidence presented in support of all these miracles is extremely frivolous. What do they boil down to? To several photographs. But in our time, the art of falsification has reached such a high level that one cannot rely on photographs alone. What else are they trying to convince us with? With a story about a hasty escape and a rappel, what allegedly prevented the members of the expedition from taking with them larger specimens of the fauna of this wonderful country? Witty, but not very convincing. Lord John Roxton was said to have the skull of a Fororakos. But where is he? It would be interesting to look at him. Lord John Roxton. This person seems to be accusing me of lying? (Noise in the hall.) Chairman. Quiet! Quiet! Dr. Illingworth, please state your amendment. Dr. Illingworth. I comply, although there is something else I would like to say. So, my proposal boils down to the following: thank Professor Summerlee for his interesting report, but consider the facts he reported to be unproven and entrust their verification to another, more authoritative commission. It is difficult to describe the confusion these words caused in the hall. The majority of those present, outraged by such slander against our travelers, demanded: “Down with the amendment!” “Don’t vote for it!” “Get him out of here!” This is unfair!. "Chairman! Call to order!. On the back benches, where the medical students were sitting, a scuffle began, fists were used. A general melee was prevented only by the presence of ladies in the audience. And suddenly the screams stopped, there was complete silence in the hall. Standing on the stage Professor Challenger. The appearance and manners of this man made such an impressive impression that he had only to raise his hand before everyone sat down in their places and prepared to listen to him. “Many of those present will probably remember,” began Professor Challenger, “that such obscene scenes were played out.” and at our first meeting. At that time, my main offender was Professor Summerlee, and, although he has now corrected himself and repented of his sins, still this incident cannot be consigned to oblivion. Today I had to hear even more offensive attacks from the person, only that he left the stage. It is with the greatest difficulty that I force myself to stoop to the intellectual level of this person, but this must be done in order to eliminate the doubts that, perhaps, still remain among some of those present here. (Laughter, noise, shouts from the back rows.) Professor Summerlee spoke here as the head of the commission of inquiry, but it is hardly necessary to remind you that I am the real inspirer of the whole affair and that our trip was crowned with success mainly thanks to me. I brought these three gentlemen to the right place and, as you have already heard, convinced them of the correctness of my statements. We did not expect that our joint conclusions would be challenged with the same ignorance and stubbornness. But, taught by bitter experience, this time I armed myself with some evidence that can convince any sane person. Professor Summerlee has already said here that our cameras were in the clutches of the ape-men who destroyed our entire camp, and that most of the negatives were lost. (Noise, laughter, someone shouts from the back benches: “Tell this to your grandmother!”) By the way, about the apes. I cannot help but note that the sounds that are now reaching my ears very vividly remind me of our meetings with these curious creatures. (Laughter.) Despite the fact that many valuable negatives were destroyed, we still have a certain amount of photographs left and from them it is quite possible to judge the living conditions on the plateau. Does anyone present have any doubts about their authenticity? (Someone's voice: “Yes!” General excitement, ending with several people being taken out of the hall.) The negatives are brought to the attention of the experts. What other evidence can the commission present? She had to flee from the plateau, and therefore could not burden herself Whatever the burden, Professor Summerlee has managed to save his collection of butterflies and beetles, and there are many new varieties in it. Isn't that enough? (Several voices: "No! No!") Who said "no"? Dr. Illingworth ( rising from his seat.) We believe that the collection could have been assembled anywhere, and not necessarily on your prehistoric plateau. (Applause.) Professor Challenger: Without a doubt, sir, the word of such a great scientist as you is law for us. However, let us leave photographs and an entomological collection and move on to questions that have never been covered by anyone. We, for example, have absolutely accurate information about pterodactyls. The way of life of these animals... (Shouts: “Nonsense!” Noise in the hall.) I say, The way of life of these animals will now become completely clear to you. In my briefcase there is a drawing made from life, based on which... Doctor Illingworth. Drawings will not convince us of anything! Professor Challenger. Would you like to see nature itself? Dr. Illingworth. Without a doubt! Professor Challenger. And then will you believe me? Dr. Illingworth (laughing). Then? Of course! And here we come to the most exciting and dramatic episode of the evening - an episode whose effect will forever remain unsurpassed. Professor Challenger raised his hand, our colleague Mr. E. D. Malone immediately rose from his seat and walked towards the depths of the platform. A minute later he reappeared, accompanied by a gigantic black man; The two of them were carrying a large square box, apparently very heavy. The box was placed at the professor's feet. The audience froze, watching with tension what was happening. Professor Challenger removed the sliding lid from the box, looked inside and, snapping his fingers several times, said in a touching voice (his words were perfectly audible in the journalist's box): “Well, come out, baby, come out!” Some fussing, scratching, and Immediately after this, an unimaginably terrible, disgusting creature crawled out of the box and sat down on its edge. Even the unexpected fall of the Duke of Durham into the orchestra pit did not distract the attention of the horror-stricken audience. The predatory head of this monster with small eyes, glowing like coals, involuntarily made them remember terrible chimeras that could only have arisen in the imagination of medieval artists. Its half-open long beak was seated with two rows of sharp teeth. Upturned shoulders were hidden in the folds of some kind of dirty gray shawl. In a word, this was the same devil that scared us in childhood. The audience was in confusion - someone screamed, two ladies in the front row fainted, the scientists on the stage showed a clear desire to follow the chairman into the orchestra. It seemed that in another second, general panic would seize the hall. Professor Challenger raised his hand above his head, trying to calm the audience, but this movement frightened the monster sitting next to him. It spread out a gray shawl, which turned out to be nothing more than a pair of membranous wings. The professor grabbed his legs, but could not hold him. The monster rose from the box and slowly circled around the hall, flapping its ten-foot wings with a dry rustle and spreading a terrifying stench around itself. The screams of the audience in the gallery, scared to death by the proximity of those burning eyes and huge beak, threw him into complete confusion. It rushed faster and faster around the hall, bumping into walls and chandeliers, and, apparently, completely went crazy with fear. “Window! For the love of God, close the window!” shouted the professor, dancing in horror and wringing his hands. Alas, he realized too late. The monster, beating against the walls, like a huge butterfly against a lampshade, caught up with the window and squeezed its an ugly body... and only we saw it.” The professor covered his face with his hands and fell into a chair, and the audience gasped with relief, like one person, making sure that the danger had passed. And then... But is it possible to describe what happened in the hall, when the delight of supporters and the confusion of Challenger’s recent opponents merged together and a powerful wave of jubilation swept from the back rows to the orchestra pit, swept the stage and raised our heroes on its crest! (Well done, Mac!) If until now the audience had been unfair to the four brave travelers, now they tried to atone for their guilt. Everyone jumped up from their seats. Everyone moved towards the stage, shouting and waving their arms. The heroes were surrounded in a tight ring. “Roll them! Rock them!” - hundreds of voices were heard. And then four travelers took off above the crowd. All their attempts to free themselves were in vain! Yes, even if they wanted to, they could not get down to the ground, since people stood on the stage like a solid wall. “Outside ! Outside!. - they shouted all around. The crowd began to move, and a stream of people slowly moved towards the doors, taking the four heroes with them. Something unimaginable began on the street. At least one hundred thousand people gathered there. People stood shoulder to shoulder from the Langham Hotel to Oxford Square. As soon as the bright light of the lanterns at the entrance illuminated the four heroes floating above the heads of the crowd, the air trembled with cheers. “Procession along Regent Street!” - everyone unanimously demanded. Having blocked the street, the ranks moved forward, along Regent Street, to Pall Mall, St. James Street and Piccadilly. Traffic in the center of London stopped. Between the demonstrators, on the one hand , police and drivers on the other, a number of clashes occurred.Finally, after midnight, the crowd released the four travelers, taking them to Albany, to the door of the apartment of Lord John Roxton, singing them goodbye, “Our good fellows. and ended the program with the anthem. Thus ended that evening - one of the most wonderful evenings that London has known for many years." So wrote my friend McDonagh, and, despite the flowery style of his style, the course of events is set out in this report quite accurately. As for the biggest sensation, it struck with its unexpectedness only the public, but not us, the members of the expedition. The reader, of course, has not forgotten my meeting with Lord John Roxton, when, having put on something like a crinoline, he went to get a chicken for Professor Challenger. Remember also the allusions to the trouble that Challenger's luggage caused us when descending from the plateau.If I had decided to continue my story, it would have devoted a lot of space to describing the fuss with our not entirely appetizing companion, whom we had to please with rotten fish. I kept silent about it, because Professor Challenger was afraid that rumors of this irrefutable argument might leak out to the public. before that one moments when he will use it to crush his enemies to dust. A few words about the fate of the London pterodactyl. Nothing definite could be established here. Two frightened women claim to have seen him on the roof of Queens Hall, where he sat for several hours on end, like some kind of monstrous statue. The next day, a short notice appeared in the evening newspapers with the following content: Guardsman Miles, who stood guard at Marlborough House, left his post and was court-martialed for this. At the trial, Miles testified that while on night duty, he accidentally looked up and saw the devil blocking the moon from him, after which he threw down his rifle and took off running down Pall Mall. The defendant's testimony was not taken into account, and yet it may be directly related to the issue that interests us. I will add one more piece of evidence, which I gleaned from the log of the ship of the American-Dutch line "Friesland." It says that at nine o'clock in the morning next day , when Start Point was ten miles on the starboard side, something between a winged goat and a huge bat flew over the ship, heading southwest, with terrible speed. If instinct correctly pointed the way for our pterodactyl, then there can be no doubt that he met his end somewhere in the depths of the Atlantic Ocean. And my Gladys? Gladys, whose name was given to the mysterious lake, which from now on will be called Central, because now I no longer want to give her immortality. Haven’t I noticed signs of callousness in this woman’s nature before? Did you not feel, proudly obeying her command, that the love that sends a person to certain death or forces him to risk his life is worth little? Have you struggled with the thought that always returned to me that in this woman only her appearance is beautiful, that her soul is darkened by the shadow of selfishness and inconstancy? Why was she so captivated by everything heroic? Is it because the accomplishment of a noble deed could affect her without any effort, without any sacrifice on her part? Or is all this just empty speculation? I was not myself all these days. The blow I received poisoned my soul. But a week has passed since then, and during this time we had one very important conversation with Lord John Roxton... Little by little it begins to seem to me that things are not so bad. I'll tell you in a few words how it all happened. There was no letter or telegram addressed to me in Southampton, and, alarmed by this, at ten o'clock in the evening of the same day I was already standing at the door of a small villa in Streatham. Maybe she is no longer alive? How long have I dreamed of open arms, a smiling face, warm praise lavished endlessly on a hero who risked his life at the whim of his beloved! Reality threw me from sky-high heights to the ground. But one word of explanation from her will be enough for me to soar to the clouds again. And I rushed headlong along the garden path, knocked on the door, heard the voice of my Gladys, pushed aside the dumbfounded maid and flew into the living room. She was sitting on a sofa between the piano and a tall standing lamp. I ran across the room in three steps and grabbed both her hands in mine. - Gladys! - I shouted. - Gladys! She looked at me in surprise. Since our last meeting, some subtle change has occurred in her. The cold gaze, the firmly compressed lips - all this seemed new to me. Gladys released her hands. - What does it mean? - she asked. - Gladys! - I shouted. - What's wrong with you? You are my Gladys, my beloved little Gladys Hungerton! “No,” she said. - I'm Gladys Potts. Let me introduce you to my husband. What a ridiculous thing life is! I found myself automatically bowing and shaking hands with the small, reddish-haired figure who was sitting comfortably in the deep armchair that had once served only me. We nodded our heads and looked at each other with the stupidest smiles. - Dad allowed us to live here for now. Our house is not ready yet,” Gladys explained. - That's how it is! - I said. -Didn't you receive my letter in Par? - No, I didn’t receive any letter. - What a pity! Then everything would be clear to you. “Everything is clear to me,” I muttered. “I told William about you,” Gladys continued. - We have no secrets from each other. I am very sorry that this happened, but your feeling was probably not very deep if you could leave me here alone and go somewhere to the ends of the world. Aren't you sulking at me? “No, what are you, what are you!” So ​​I guess I’ll go.” “Shouldn’t we have some tea?” suggested the reddish-haired individual and then added in a confidential tone: “That’s how it always happens... What else can you count on?” "Out of two opponents, one always wins. He burst into idiotic laughter, and I considered it best to leave. The door of the living room had already closed behind me, when suddenly something seemed to push me, and, obeying this impulse, I returned to my happy opponent, who immediately cast an alarming glance at the electric bell. “Answer me, please, one question,” I said. “Well, if it is within the limits of what is permitted...” “How did you achieve this? Did you find some treasure? Did you discover the pole?” Were you a corsair? Flew across the English Channel? What did you do? Where is it, romance? How did you do it? He stared at me with all his eyes. His stupidly good-natured, insignificant face expressed complete bewilderment. - Don’t you think that everything "Is this too personal?" he said finally. "Okay." One more question, the last one! - I shouted. - Who you are? What is your profession? - I work as a clerk in the notary office of Johnson and Merville. Address: Number 41 Chancery Lane. - Best wishes! - I shouted and, as befits an inconsolable hero, I disappeared into the darkness of the night, overwhelmed by rage, grief and... laughter. One more short scene - and my story will be finished. Last night we all gathered at Lord John Roxton's and, after dinner, over a cigar, we spent a long time reminiscing in friendly conversation about our recent adventures. It was strange to see these faces I knew well in such an unusual environment. Here sits Challenger - a condescending smile still plays on his lips, his eyelids are still narrowed contemptuously, his beard bristles, he sticks out his chest, puffs up, lecturing Summerlee. And he puffs on his short pipe and shakes his goatee, furiously challenging Challenger’s every word. And finally, here is our owner - a thin face, a cold gaze of ice-blue eagle eyes, in the depths of which a cheerful, sly light always smolders. All three will remain like this in my memory for a long time. After dinner we moved into Lord John's inner sanctum - his study, bathed in a rosy glow and hung with countless trophies - and our further conversation took place there. The owner took an old cigar box from the cabinet and placed it on the table in front of him. “Perhaps I should have told you about this matter a long time ago,” he began, “but I wanted to find out everything to the end first.” Is it worth raising hopes and then being convinced of their impossibility? But now we have facts before us. You probably remember the day when we found a pterodactyl lair in the swamp? So: I looked and looked at this swamp and finally became thoughtful. I'll tell you what's wrong if you haven't noticed anything yourself. It was a volcanic crater with blue clay. Both professors nodded their heads, confirming his words. - I saw the same volcanic funnel with blue clay only once in my life - at large diamond placers in Kimberley. You understand? Diamonds couldn't get out of my head. I built a kind of basket to protect myself from these fetid reptiles and, armed with a spatula, had a good time in their lair. Here's what I took away from it. He opened the cigar box, turned it upside down and poured out onto the table about thirty or more rough diamonds ranging in size from beans to chestnuts. - You will probably say that I should have immediately shared my discovery with you. I do not argue. But an inexperienced person can run into a lot of trouble with these stones. After all, their value depends not so much on size, but on the consistency and purity of the water. In a word, I brought them here, on the very first day I went to Spink and asked him to polish and evaluate one stone for me. Lord John took a small pill box from his pocket and showed us a magnificently playing diamond, the like of which I have probably never seen in beauty. “Here are the results of my labors,” he said. - The jeweler valued this pile at the very least at two hundred thousand pounds. Of course, we will share equally. I won't agree to anything else. Well, Challenger, what will you do with your fifty thousand? “If you really insist on such a generous decision,” said the professor, “then I will spend all the money on equipping a private museum, which I have long dreamed of.” - And you, Summerlee? “I will give up teaching and devote all my time to the final classification of my collection of Cretaceous fossils.” “And I,” said Lord John Roxton, “will spend all my share on equipping the expedition and look once more at the plateau dear to our hearts.” As for you, young man, you also need money. Are you getting married? “No, I’m not going to yet,” I answered with a sad smile. - I guess, if you don't mind, I'll join you. Lord Roxton looked at me and silently extended his strong, tanned hand to me.

Man is the creator of his own glory

Mr. Hungerton, my Gladys's father, was incredibly tactless and looked like a feathered old cockatoo, very good-natured, it is true, but preoccupied exclusively with his own person. If anything could push me away from Gladys, it would be my extreme reluctance to have such a father-in-law. I am convinced that Mr. Hungerton attributed my visits to the Chestnuts three times a week solely to the values ​​of his society and especially to his speculations on bimetallism, a subject in which he considered himself a great expert.

That evening I listened for more than an hour to his monotonous chatter about the decline in the value of silver, the depreciation of money, the fall of the rupee, and the need for a proper monetary system.

Imagine suddenly having to pay all the debts in the world immediately and simultaneously! - he exclaimed in a weak but filled with horror voice. - What will happen then under the existing system?

I, as might have been expected, said that in that case I would be ruined, but Mr. Hungerton was dissatisfied with this answer; he jumped up from his chair, scolded me for my constant frivolity, which deprived him of the opportunity to discuss serious issues with me, and ran out of the room to change clothes for the Masonic meeting.

Finally I was alone with Gladys! The minute on which my future fate depended had arrived. All that evening I felt like a soldier feels, waiting for the signal for a desperate attack, when the hope of victory is replaced in his soul by the fear of defeat.

Gladys was sitting by the window, and her proud, thin profile was clearly drawn against the background of the crimson curtain. How beautiful she was! And at the same time, how far from me! She and I were friends, great friends, but I could never get her to move beyond the purely comradely relations that I could maintain, say, with any of my fellow Daily Gazette reporters - purely comradely, kind and not knowing the differences between the sexes. I hate it when a woman treats me too freely, too boldly. This does not honor a man. If a feeling arises, it must be accompanied by modesty and wariness - a legacy of those harsh times when love and cruelty often went hand in hand. Not a bold look, but an evasive one, not glib answers, but a broken voice, a head hanging down - these are the true signs of passion. Despite my youth, I knew this, or maybe this knowledge was inherited from my distant ancestors and became what we call instinct.

Gladys was gifted with all the qualities that attract us to a woman. Some considered her cold and callous, but such thoughts seemed like betrayal to me. Delicate skin, dark, almost like that of oriental women, hair the color of a raven's wing, cloudy eyes, full but perfectly defined lips - all this spoke of a passionate nature. However, I sadly admitted to myself that until now I had not been able to win her love. But come what may - enough of the unknown! I'll get an answer from her this evening. Maybe she will refuse me, but it is better to be rejected by an admirer than to be content with the role of a virtuous brother imposed on you!

Having come to this conclusion, I was about to break the prolonged awkward silence, when I suddenly felt the critical gaze of dark eyes on me and saw that Gladys was smiling, reproachfully shaking her proud head.

I sense, Ned, that you are about to propose to me. No need. Let everything be as before, it’s much better.

I moved closer to her.

Why did you guess? - My surprise was genuine.

As if we women don't sense this beforehand! Do you really think that we can be taken by surprise? Ah, Ned! I felt so good and pleased with you! Why spoil our friendship? You don’t appreciate at all that we, a young man and a young woman, can talk to each other so naturally.

Really, I don’t know, Gladys. You see, what’s the matter... I could talk just as casually... well, say, with the head of the railway station. “I don’t understand where he came from, this boss, but the fact remains: this official suddenly stood up in front of us and made us both laugh.” - No, Gladys, I expect much more. I want to hug you, I want your head to press against my chest. Gladys, I want...

Seeing that I was about to put my words into action, Gladys quickly rose from her chair.

Ned, you ruined everything! - she said. - How good and simple it can be until this comes! Can't you pull yourself together? - But I wasn’t the first to come up with this! - I begged. - Such is human nature. That's how love is.

Yes, if the love is mutual, then things are probably different. But I've never experienced this feeling.

You with your beauty, with your heart! Gladys, you were made for love! You must love.

Then you have to wait for love to come on its own.

But why don't you love me, Gladys? What bothers you - my appearance or something else?

And then Gladys softened a little. She extended her hand - how much grace and condescension there was in this gesture! - and pulled my head back. Then she looked into my face with a sad smile.

No, that's not the point, she said. - You are not a vain boy, and I can safely admit that this is not the case. It's much more serious than you think.

My character?

She bowed her head sternly.

I'll fix it, just tell me what you need. Sit down and let's discuss everything. Well, I won’t, I won’t, just sit down!

Gladys looked at me, as if doubting the sincerity of my words, but to me her doubt was worth more than complete trust. How primitive and stupid all this looks on paper! However, maybe it’s just me who thinks so? Be that as it may, Gladys sat down in the chair.

Now tell me, what are you unhappy with?

I love another one.

It was my turn to jump up.

Don’t be alarmed, I’m talking about my ideal,” Gladys explained, looking at my changed face with a laugh. - I have never come across such a person in my life.

Tell us what he is like! What does he look like?

He may be very similar to you.

How kind you are! Then what am I missing? One word from you is enough! That he is a teetotaler, a vegetarian, an aeronaut, a theosophist, a superman? I agree to everything, Gladys, just tell me what you need!

Such pliability made her laugh.

First of all, it’s unlikely that my ideal would say that. He has a much firmer, stern nature and will not want to adapt so readily to stupid female whims. But what is most important is that he is a man of action, a man who will fearlessly look death in the eye, a man of great deeds, rich in experience and unusual experiences. I will not love him himself, but his glory, because its reflection will fall on me. Think Richard Burton. When I read the biography of this man written by his wife, it became clear to me why she loved him. And Lady Stanley? Do you remember the wonderful last chapter from her book about her husband? These are the kind of men a woman should bow to! This is love that does not diminish, but exalts, because the whole world will honor such a woman as the inspirer of great deeds!

Arthur Conan Doyle

The Lost World(s)

Chapter I. Man is the creator of his own glory

Mr. Hungerton, my Gladys's father, was incredibly tactless and looked like a feathered old cockatoo, very good-natured, it is true, but preoccupied exclusively with his own person. If anything could push me away from Gladys, it would be my extreme reluctance to have such a father-in-law. I am convinced that Mr. Hungerton attributed my visits to the Chestnuts three times a week solely to the values ​​of his society and especially to his speculations on bimetallism, a subject in which he considered himself a great expert.

That evening I listened for more than an hour to his monotonous chatter about the decline in the value of silver, the depreciation of money, the fall of the rupee, and the need for a proper monetary system.

Imagine suddenly having to pay all the debts in the world immediately and simultaneously! - he exclaimed in a weak but filled with horror voice. - What will happen then under the existing system?

I, as might have been expected, said that in that case I would be ruined, but Mr. Hungerton was dissatisfied with this answer; he jumped up from his chair, scolded me for my constant frivolity, which deprived him of the opportunity to discuss serious issues with me, and ran out of the room to change clothes for the Masonic meeting.

Finally I was alone with Gladys! The minute on which my future fate depended had arrived. All that evening I felt like a soldier feels, waiting for the signal for a desperate attack, when the hope of victory is replaced in his soul by the fear of defeat.

Gladys was sitting by the window, and her proud, thin profile was clearly drawn against the background of the crimson curtain. How beautiful she was! And at the same time, how far from me! She and I were friends, great friends, but I could never get her to move beyond the purely comradely relations that I could maintain, say, with any of my fellow Daily Gazette reporters - purely comradely, kind and not knowing the differences between the sexes. I hate it when a woman treats me too freely, too boldly. This does not honor a man. If a feeling arises, it must be accompanied by modesty and wariness - a legacy of those harsh times when love and cruelty often went hand in hand. Not a bold look, but an evasive one, not glib answers, but a broken voice, a head hanging down - these are the true signs of passion. Despite my youth, I knew this, or maybe this knowledge was inherited from my distant ancestors and became what we call instinct.

Gladys was gifted with all the qualities that attract us to a woman. Some considered her cold and callous, but such thoughts seemed like betrayal to me. Delicate skin, dark, almost like that of oriental women, hair the color of a raven's wing, cloudy eyes, full but perfectly defined lips - all this spoke of a passionate nature. However, I sadly admitted to myself that until now I had not been able to win her love. But come what may - enough of the unknown! I'll get an answer from her this evening. Maybe she will refuse me, but it is better to be rejected by an admirer than to be content with the role of a virtuous brother imposed on you!

Having come to this conclusion, I was about to break the prolonged awkward silence, when I suddenly felt the critical gaze of dark eyes on me and saw that Gladys was smiling, reproachfully shaking her proud head.

I sense, Ned, that you are about to propose to me. No need. Let everything be as before, it’s much better.

I moved closer to her.

Why did you guess? - My surprise was genuine.

As if we women don't sense this beforehand! Do you really think that we can be taken by surprise? Ah, Ned! I felt so good and pleased with you! Why spoil our friendship? You don’t appreciate at all that we, a young man and a young woman, can talk to each other so naturally.

Really, I don’t know, Gladys. You see, what’s the matter... I could talk just as casually... well, say, with the head of the railway station. “I don’t understand where he came from, this boss, but the fact remains: this official suddenly stood up in front of us and made us both laugh.” - No, Gladys, I expect much more. I want to hug you, I want your head to press against my chest. Gladys, I want...

Seeing that I was about to put my words into action, Gladys quickly rose from her chair.

Ned, you ruined everything! - she said. - How good and simple it can be until this comes! Can't you pull yourself together?

But I wasn’t the first to come up with this! - I begged. - Such is human nature. That's how love is.

Yes, if the love is mutual, then things are probably different. But I've never experienced this feeling.

You with your beauty, with your heart! Gladys, you were made for love! You must love.

Then you have to wait for love to come on its own.

But why don't you love me, Gladys? What bothers you - my appearance or something else?

And then Gladys softened a little. She extended her hand - how much grace and condescension there was in this gesture! - and pulled my head back. Then she looked into my face with a sad smile.

No, that's not the point, she said. - You are not a vain boy, and I can safely admit that this is not the case. It's much more serious than you think.

My character?

She bowed her head sternly.

I'll fix it, just tell me what you need. Sit down and let's discuss everything. Well, I won’t, I won’t, just sit down!

Gladys looked at me, as if doubting the sincerity of my words, but to me her doubt was worth more than complete trust. How primitive and stupid all this looks on paper! However, maybe it’s just me who thinks so? Be that as it may, Gladys sat down in the chair.

Now tell me, what are you unhappy with?

I love another one.

It was my turn to jump up.

Don’t be alarmed, I’m talking about my ideal,” Gladys explained, looking at my changed face with a laugh. - I have never come across such a person in my life.

Tell us what he is like! What does he look like?

He may be very similar to you.

How kind you are! Then what am I missing? One word from you is enough! That he is a teetotaler, a vegetarian, an aeronaut, a theosophist, a superman? I agree to everything, Gladys, just tell me what you need!

Such pliability made her laugh.

First of all, it’s unlikely that my ideal would say that. He has a much firmer, stern nature and will not want to adapt so readily to stupid female whims. But what is most important is that he is a man of action, a man who will fearlessly look death in the eye, a man of great deeds, rich in experience and unusual experiences. I will not love him himself, but his glory, because its reflection will fall on me. Think Richard Burton. When I read the biography of this man written by his wife, it became clear to me why she loved him. And Lady Stanley? Do you remember the wonderful last chapter from her book about her husband? These are the kind of men a woman should bow to! This is love that does not diminish, but exalts, because the whole world will honor such a woman as the inspirer of great deeds!

Gladys was so beautiful at that moment that I almost broke the sublime tone of our conversation, but I controlled myself in time and continued the argument.

“We can’t all be Burtons and Stanleys,” I said. - Yes, and there is no such possibility. At least I didn’t imagine it, but I would have used it!

No, such cases present themselves at every step. This is the essence of my ideal, that it itself goes towards achievement. No obstacles will stop him. I haven’t found such a hero yet, but I see him as if he were alive. Yes, man is the creator of his own glory. Men must perform heroic deeds, and women must reward heroes with love. Remember that young Frenchman who took off in a hot air balloon a few days ago. There was a hurricane that morning, but the rise had been announced in advance, and he never wanted to postpone it. Per day balloon carried one and a half thousand miles, somewhere to the very center of Russia, where this daredevil landed. This is the kind of person I'm talking about. Think about the woman who loves him. What envy she must arouse in others! Let them also envy me that my husband is a hero!

I will do anything for you!

Just for me? No, that won't do! You must undertake a feat because you cannot do otherwise, because such is your nature, because the masculine principle in you requires its expression. For example, you wrote about an explosion in a coal mine in Vigan. Why didn’t you go down there yourself and help the people who were suffocating from the suffocating gas?

Arthur Conan Doyle
lost World

Recent Report amazing adventures Professor E.
Challenger, Lord John Roxton, Professor Summerlee and
Mr. E. D. Malone, reporter of the Daily Gazette.
Here's a simple story
And let him amuse you
You, young men and veterans,
It’s too early for anyone to grow old.
Chapter I. MAN IS THE CREATOR OF HIS GLORY
Mr. Hungerton, my Gladys's father, was incredibly tactless and looked like an unkempt cockatoo with fluffy feathers, very good-natured, it is true, but preoccupied exclusively with his own person. If anything could push me away from Gladys, it would be my extreme reluctance to have a stupid father-in-law. I am convinced that Mr. Hungerton attributed my visits to Chestnuts three times a week solely to the values ​​of his society and especially to his speculations on bimetallism, a subject in which he considered himself a great expert.
That evening I listened for more than an hour to his monotonous chirping about the falling value of silver, the depreciation of money, the fall of the rupee, and the need for a proper monetary system.
- Imagine suddenly requiring immediate and simultaneous payment of all the debts in the world! - he exclaimed in a weak but filled with horror voice. - What will happen then under the existing order of things?
I, as might have been expected, said that in that case I would be ruined, but Mr. Hungerton, dissatisfied with my answer, jumped up from his chair, scolded me for my constant frivolity, which deprived him of the opportunity to discuss serious issues with me, and ran out of the room to change his clothes. to the Masonic meeting.
Finally I was alone with Gladys! The minute on which my future fate depended had arrived. All that evening I felt like a soldier waiting for the signal to attack, when the hope of victory is replaced in his soul by the fear of defeat.
Gladys sat by the window, her proud, slender profile set off by a crimson curtain. How beautiful she was! And at the same time, how far from me! She and I were friends, great friends, but I could never get her to move beyond the kind of relationship I could maintain with any of my fellow Daily Gazette reporters—purely friendly, kind, and sex-neutral. I hate it when a woman treats me too freely, too boldly. This does not honor a man. If a feeling arises, it should be accompanied by modesty, wariness, a legacy of those harsh times when love and cruelty often went hand in hand. Not a bold look, but an evasive one, not glib answers, but a broken voice, a head hanging down - these are the true signs of passion. Despite my youth, I knew this, or maybe this knowledge was inherited from my distant ancestors and became what we call instinct.
Gladys was gifted with all the qualities that attract us so much in a woman. Some considered her cold and callous, but to me such thoughts seemed like betrayal. Delicate skin, dark, almost like that of oriental women, hair the color of a raven's wing, glazed eyes, full but perfectly defined lips - all this spoke of a passionate nature. However, I sadly admitted to myself that I had not yet managed to win her love. But come what may - enough of the unknown! I'll get an answer from her this evening. Maybe she will refuse me, but it is better to be rejected by a fan than to be content with the role of a modest brother!
These were the thoughts wandering through my head, and I was about to break the prolonged awkward silence, when I suddenly felt the critical gaze of dark eyes on me and saw that Gladys was smiling, reproachfully shaking her proud head.
- I feel, Ned, that you are going to propose to me. No need. Let everything be as before, it’s much better.
I moved closer to her.
- Why did you guess? - My surprise was genuine.
- As if we women don’t feel this in advance! Do you really think that we can be taken by surprise? Ah, Ned! I felt so good and pleased with you! Why spoil our friendship? You don’t appreciate at all that we, a young man and a young woman, can talk to each other so casually.
- Really, I don’t know, Gladys. You see, what's the matter... I could just as easily talk... well, say, with the head of the railway station. “I don’t understand where he came from, this boss, but the fact remains: this official suddenly stood up in front of us and made us both laugh.” - No, Gladys, I expect much more. I want to hug you, I want your head to press against my chest. Gladys, I want...
Seeing that I was about to put my words into action, Gladys quickly rose from her chair.
- Ned, you ruined everything! - she said. - How good and simple it can be until this comes! Can't you pull yourself together?
- But I wasn’t the first to come up with this! - I begged. - Such is human nature. That's how love is.
- Yes, if the love is mutual, then probably everything will be different. But I've never experienced this feeling.
- You with your beauty, with your heart! Gladys, you were made for love! You must love.
“Then you have to wait for love to come on its own.”
- But why don't you love me, Gladys? What bothers you - my appearance or something else?
And then Gladys softened a little. She extended her hand - how much grace and condescension there was in this gesture! - and pulled my head back. Then she looked into my face with a sad smile.
“No, that’s not the point,” she said. - You are not a vain boy, and I can safely admit that this is not the case. It's much more serious than you think.
- My character?
She bowed her head sternly.
- I’ll fix it, just tell me what you need. Sit down and let's discuss everything. Well, I won’t, I won’t, just sit down!
Gladys looked at me as if doubting the sincerity of my words, but to me her doubt was worth more than complete trust. How primitive and stupid all this looks on paper! However, maybe it’s just me who thinks so? Be that as it may, Gladys sat down in the chair.
- Now tell me, what are you unhappy with?
- I love another one.
It was my turn to jump up.
“Don’t be alarmed, I’m talking about my ideal,” Gladys explained, looking at my changed face with a laugh. “I have never come across such a person in my life.”
- Tell me what he is like! What does he look like?
- He may be very similar to you.
- How kind you are! Then what am I missing? One word from you is enough! That he is a teetotaler, a vegetarian, an aeronaut, a theosophist, a superman? I agree to everything, Gladys, just tell me what you need!
Such pliability made her laugh.
- First of all, it’s unlikely that my ideal would say that. He is a much firmer, harsher nature and will not want to adapt so readily to stupid female whims. But what is most important is that he is a man of action, a man who will fearlessly look death in the eye, a man of great deeds, rich in experience and unusual experiences. I will not love him himself, but his glory, because its reflection will fall on me. Think Richard Burton. When I read the biography of this man written by his wife, it became clear to me why she loved him. And Lady Stanley? Do you remember the wonderful last chapter from her book about her husband? These are the kind of men a woman should bow to! This is love that does not diminish, but exalts, because the whole world will honor such a woman as the inspirer of great deeds!
Gladys was so beautiful at that moment that I almost broke the sublime tone of our conversation, but I controlled myself in time and continued the argument.
“We can’t all be Burtons and Stanleys,” I said. - Yes, and there is no such possibility. At least I didn’t imagine it, but I would have used it!
- No, such cases appear at every step. This is the essence of my ideal, that it itself goes towards achievement. No obstacles will stop him. I haven’t found such a hero yet, but I see him as if he were alive. Yes, man is the creator of his own glory. Men must perform heroic deeds, and women must reward heroes with love. Remember that young Frenchman who took off in a hot air balloon a few days ago. A hurricane was raging that morning, but the rise had been announced in advance, and he did not want to postpone it for anything. Over the course of a day, the balloon was carried one and a half thousand miles, somewhere to the very center of Russia, where this daredevil landed. This is the kind of person I'm talking about. Think about the woman who loves him. What envy she must arouse in others! Let them also envy me that my husband is a hero!
- For your sake, I would do the same!
- Just for me? No, that won't do! You must undertake a feat because you cannot do otherwise, because such is your nature, because the masculine principle is in. requires you to express itself. For example, you wrote about an explosion in a coal mine in Vigan. Why didn’t you go down there yourself and help the people who were suffocating from the suffocating gas?
- I was going down.
- You didn't say anything about it.
- What's special here?
- I did not know that. - She looked at me with interest. - A brave deed!
“I had no choice.” If you want to write a good essay, you need to visit the scene of the incident yourself.
- What a prosaic motive! This ruins all the romance. But still, I’m very glad that you went down into the mine.
I could not help but kiss the hand extended to me - there was so much grace and dignity in this movement.
“You probably think I’m a crazy person who hasn’t given up her girlish dreams.” But they are so real to me! I cannot help but follow them - it has become part of my flesh and blood. If I ever get married, it will only be to famous person.
- How could it be otherwise! - I exclaimed. - Who should inspire men if not such women! Let me just have a suitable opportunity, and then we’ll see if I can take advantage of it. You say that a person should create his own glory, and not wait for it to come into his hands. At least Clive! A modest clerk, but he conquered India! No, I swear to you, I will show the world what I am capable of!
Gladys laughed at my outburst of Irish temperament.
- Well, go ahead. You have everything for this - youth, health, strength, education, energy. I felt very sad when you started this conversation. And now I'm glad that he awakened such thoughts in you.
- What if I...
Her hand, like soft velvet, touched my lips.
- Say no more, sir! You're already half an hour late for the editorial office. I just didn't have the heart to remind you of this. But in time, if you have won your place in the world, we may perhaps resume our conversation today.
And that is why I, so happy, caught up with the Camberwell tram on that foggy November evening, determined not to waste a single day in search of a great deed that would be worthy of my fair lady. But who could have foreseen what incredible forms this deed would take and what strange paths I would take to achieve it!
The reader will probably say that this introductory chapter has no connection with my story, but without it there would be no story itself, for who, if not a man, inspired by the thought that he himself is the creator of his own glory, and ready for any feat , is able to so decisively break with his usual way of life and set off at random into a country shrouded in mysterious twilight, where great adventures and a great reward await him!
Imagine how I, the fifth spoke in the Daily Gazette chariot, spent that evening in the editorial office, when an unshakable decision matured in my head: if possible, today I will find an opportunity to accomplish a feat that will be worthy of my Gladys. What drove this girl who forced me to risk my life for her glorification - heartlessness, selfishness? Such thoughts can be embarrassing in adulthood, but not at the age of twenty-three, when a person experiences the heat of first love.
Chapter II. TRY YOUR LUCK WITH PROFESSOR CHALLENGER
I always loved our Breaking News editor, the red-haired curmudgeon McArdle, and I think he treated me well too. Our real ruler was, of course, Beaumont, but he usually lived in the rarefied atmosphere of the Olympian heights, from where his gaze only such events as international crises or the collapse of the Cabinet were revealed. Sometimes we saw him marching majestically into his sanctuary, his gaze fixed on space and his mind wandering somewhere in the Balkans or the Persian Gulf. For us, Beaumont remained out of reach, and we usually dealt with McArdle, who was his right hand.
When I entered the editorial office, the old man nodded at me and pushed his glasses onto his bald head.
“Well, Mr. Malone, from everything I hear, you are making progress,” he said affably.
I thanked him.
- Your essay about the mine explosion is excellent. The same can be said about the correspondence about the fire in Southwark. You have all the credentials of a good journalist. Have you come on some business?
- I want to ask you for one favor.
McArdle's eyes darted around in fear.
- Hm! Hm! What's the matter?
- Could you, sir, send me on some errand from our newspaper? I will do my best and bring you interesting material.
- What assignment do you have in mind, Mr. Malone?
- Anything, sir, as long as it involves adventure and danger. I won't let the paper down, sir. And the harder it is for me, the better.
- You seem not averse to saying goodbye to life?
- No, I don't want it to go to waste, sir.
- My dear Mr. Malone, you are too... too soaring. Times are not the same. The costs of special correspondents are no longer justified. And, in any case, such instructions are given to a person with a name who has already won the trust of the public. The blank spots on the map have long been filled, and all of a sudden you are dreaming of romantic adventures! However, wait,” he added, and suddenly smiled. By the way, about white spots. What if we debunk one charlatan, a modern-day Munchausen, and laugh at him? Why don't you expose his lies? It won't be bad. Well, how do you look at it?
- Anything, anywhere - I'm ready for anything!
McArdle was lost in thought.
“There is one person,” he finally said, “but I don’t know if you will be able to make an acquaintance with him or even get an interview.” However, you seem to have a gift for winning people over. I don’t understand what’s going on here - whether you’re such a handsome young man, or it’s animal magnetism, or your cheerfulness - but I experienced it myself.
- You are very kind to me, sir.
- So, why don’t you try your luck with Professor Challenger? He lives in Enmore Park.
I must admit that I was somewhat taken aback by this proposal.
- Challenger? The famous zoologist Professor Challenger? Isn't this the one that crushed Blundell's skull from the Telegraph?
The editor of the Latest News department smiled gloomily:
- What, don’t like it? You were ready for any adventure!
- No, why? “Anything can happen in our business, sir,” I answered.
- Absolutely right. However, I don’t think he was always in such a ferocious mood. Blundell obviously got to him at the wrong time or treated him wrong. Hope you have better luck. I also rely on your inherent tact. This is just your thing, and the newspaper will gladly publish such material.
- I know absolutely nothing about this Challenger. I only remember his name in connection with the Blundell beating trial,” I said.
- I have some information, Mr. Malone. At one time I was interested in this subject. - He took a sheet of paper out of the drawer. - Here is briefly what is known about him: “Challenger George Edward. Born in Largs in 1863. Education: school in Largs, University of Edinburgh. In 1892 - assistant at the British Museum. In 1893 - assistant curator of the department at the Museum of Comparative Anthropology. That same year he left the place after exchanging poisonous letters with the director of the museum. Scientific research in the field of zoology. Member of foreign societies..... Well, here follows a very long list, about ten lines long: Belgian Society, American Academy, La Plata and so on, ex-president of the Paleontological Society, British Association and the like. Printed works: “On the question of the structure of the skull of the Kalmyks,” “Essays on the evolution of vertebrates. and many articles, including "Weismann's false theory.., which caused heated debate at the Vienna Zoological Congress. Favorite pastimes: walking, mountaineering. Address: Enmore Park, Kensington.. Here, take this with you. Today I will tell you nothing more can not help.
I hid the piece of paper in my pocket and, seeing that instead of McArdle’s red-cheeked face, his pink bald head was looking at me, I said:
- Just a minute, sir. It is not entirely clear to me on what issue this gentleman should be interviewed. What did he do?
The red-cheeked face again appeared before my eyes.
- What did he do? Two years ago I went alone on an expedition to South America. I returned from there last year. He has undoubtedly visited South America, but refuses to indicate exactly where. He began to describe his adventures very vaguely, but after the first quibble he became silent, like an oyster. Apparently, some miracles happened, unless he is telling us a huge lie, which, by the way, is more than likely. Refers to damaged photographs, allegedly falsified. He was driven to such a state that he began to literally attack everyone who approached him with questions, and already sent more than one reporter down the stairs. In my opinion, this is simply a layman, dabbling in science and, moreover, obsessed with a mania for murder. That's who you have to deal with, Mr. Malone. Now get out of here and try to get everything you can out of it. You are an adult and can stand up for yourself. After all, the risk is not that great, taking into account employers' liability laws.
The grinning red face disappeared from my eyes again, and I saw a pink oval bordered with reddish fluff. Our conversation was over.
I went to my club "Savage", but on the way I stopped at the parapet of Adelphi Terrace and looked down thoughtfully for a long time at the dark river, covered with rainbow oil stains. In the fresh air, healthy, clear thoughts always come to my mind. I took out a piece of paper with a list of all the exploits of Professor Challenger and ran through it by the light of a street lamp. And then inspiration struck me, there’s no other way to describe it. Judging by everything I had already learned about this grumpy professor, it was clear that a reporter would not get through to him. But the scandals mentioned twice in his short biography, they said that he was a science fanatic. So, is it possible to play on this weakness of his? Let's try!
I entered the club. It was just after eleven, and the living room was already crowded with people, although it was still far from complete gathering. A tall, thin man was sitting in a chair by the fireplace. He turned to face me the moment I moved my chair closer to the fire. I could only dream of such a meeting! It was an employee of the Nature magazine - skinny, all dried out Tharp Henry, the kindest creature in the world. I immediately got down to business.
- What do you know about Professor Challenger?
- About Challenger? - Tharp frowned with displeasure. - Challenger is the same man who told all sorts of tall tales about his trip to South America.
- What fables?
- Yes, he allegedly discovered some strange animals there. In general, incredible nonsense. Later, it seems, he was forced to recant his words. In any case, he fell silent. His latest attempt is an interview given to Reuters. But it caused such a storm that he immediately realized that things were bad. This whole story is scandalous. Some took his stories seriously, but he soon alienated even those few defenders.
- How?
- With his incredible rudeness and outrageous behavior. Poor Wedley from the Zoological Institute also ran into trouble. I sent him a letter with the following content: “The President of the Zoological Institute expresses his respect to Professor Challenger and would consider it a courtesy on his part if he would do the Institute the honor of attending its next meeting.” The answer was completely obscene.
- Are you kidding!
- In a greatly softened form, it sounds like this: “Professor Challenger expresses his respect to the President of the Zoological Institute and will consider it a courtesy on his part if he fails to hell.”
- Lord God!
“Yes, old Wadley must have said the same thing.” I remember his cry at the meeting: “In fifty years of communication with scientists..... The old man has completely lost his footing.
- Well, what else can you tell me about this Challenger?
- But, as you know, I am a bacteriologist. I live in a world that is visible through a microscope with a magnification of nine hundred times, and what is revealed to the naked eye is of little interest to me. I stand guard at the very limits of the Known, and when I have to leave my office and encounter people, clumsy and rude creatures, it always throws me off balance. I am an outsider, I have no time for gossip, but nevertheless, some of the gossip about Challenger reached me, because he is not one of those people who can simply be brushed aside. Challenger is smart. This is a bundle of human strength and vitality, but at the same time he is a rabid fanatic and, moreover, is not shy about the means to achieve his goals. This person went so far as to refer to some photographs that were obviously falsified, claiming that they were brought from South America.
- You called him a fanatic. How does his fanaticism manifest itself?
- Yes, in anything! His latest escapade is an attack on Weismann's theory of evolution. They say that in Vienna he created a huge scandal about this.
-Can you tell me in more detail what’s going on here?
- No, I can’t right now, but our editorial office has translations of the protocols of the Vienna Congress. If you want to check them out, come on, I'll show them to you.
- That would be very helpful. I have been tasked with interviewing this subject, and so I need to find some kind of key to him. Thank you very much for your help. If it's not too late, then let's go.
Half an hour later I was sitting in the editorial office of the magazine, and in front of me lay a voluminous volume, open to the article “Weissmann against Darwin.” With the subtitle “Stormy protests in Vienna. Lively debate." My scientific knowledge is not fundamental, so I could not penetrate into the very essence of the dispute, however, it immediately became clear to me that the English professor conducted it in an extremely harsh manner, which greatly angered his continental colleagues. I drew attention to the first three notes in parentheses: “Cries of protest from the localities,” “Noise in the hall,” “General indignation.” The rest of the report was for me a real Chinese letter. I knew so little about zoological issues that I didn’t understand anything.
- You could at least translate this into human language for me! - I piteously begged, turning to my colleague.
- Yes, this is a translation!
- Then I'd better turn to the original.
- Indeed, it is difficult for the uninitiated to understand what is going on here.
“I just wish I could extract from all this gobbledygook one single meaningful phrase that would contain some specific content!” Yeah, this one looks like it will do. I almost even understand her. Let's rewrite it now. Let her serve as a link between me and your formidable professor.
- Will you need anything more from me?
- No, no, wait! I want to address him with a letter. If you allow me to write it here and use your address, it will give a more impressive tone to my message.
“Then this guy will immediately come here with a scandal and break all our furniture.”
- No, what are you talking about! I'll show you the letter. I assure you there will be nothing offensive there.
- Well, sit down at my table. You will find the paper here. And, before sending the letter, give it to me for censorship.
I had to work hard, but in the end the results were good. Proud of my work, I read it aloud to the skeptical bacteriologist:
- “Dear Professor Challenger! Being a humble natural scientist, I have followed with the deepest interest the suggestions that you expressed regarding the contradictions between the theories of Darwin and Weismann. Recently I had the opportunity to refresh your memory .....
- Shameless liar! - muttered Tharp Henry.
- ... "Your brilliant speech at the Congress of Vienna. This report, extremely clear in terms of the thoughts expressed in it, should be considered the last word of science in the field of natural science. However, there is one place there, namely: “I categorically object to the unacceptable and over-dogmatic statement that each isolated individual is a microcosm, possessing a historically established structure of the body, developed gradually over many generations.. Do you consider it necessary, in connection with the latest research in this area, to make some amendments to your point of view? Is there some tension in it? Do not refuse the courtesy to receive me, since it is extremely important for me to resolve this issue, and some of the thoughts that have arisen in my mind can only be developed in a personal conversation. With your permission, I will have the honor to visit you the day after tomorrow (Wednesday) at eleven o'clock in the morning. I remain, sir, your humble servant, your respectful Edward D. Malone."
- Well, how? - I asked triumphantly.
- Well, if your conscience does not protest...
- She never let me down.
- But what are you going to do next?
- I'll go to him. I just need to get into his office, and then I’ll figure out how to act. You may even have to sincerely repent of everything. If he has a sporting streak in him, I will only please him with this.
- Will you please? Be careful lest he hits you with something heavy. I advise you to wear chain mail or an American football suit. Well, good luck. The answer will be waiting for you here on Wednesday morning, if only he deigns to answer. He is a ferocious, dangerous individual, the object of everyone's hatred and the laughingstock of the students, since they are not afraid to tease him. It would probably be better for you if you had never heard of him.
Chapter III. THIS IS A COMPLETELY IMPOSSIBLE PERSON!
My friend's fears or hopes were not destined to be justified. When I called on him on Wednesday, a letter with a Kensington postmark was waiting for me. The address was scrawled in handwriting that looked like barbed wire. The contents of the letter were as follows:
Enmore Park, Kensington.
Sir! I have received your letter in which you assure me,
that you support my point of view, which, however, is not
needs no one's support. Speaking of my theory about
Darwinism, you took the liberty of using the word
.assumptions." I consider it necessary to note that in this
context it is somewhat offensive.
However, the content of your letter convinces me that you can
be accused of ignorance and tactlessness rather than of any
bad intentions, and therefore you will get away with it unpunished. You
you are quoting a phrase taken from my report and, apparently, not
You completely understand her. It seemed to me that the meaning of this phrase could
remain unclear only to a being standing at the lowest
stage of development, but if it really requires
additional interpretation, then I agree to accept you in
the time you specified, although all sorts of visits and all sorts of visitors
I find it extremely unpleasant. As for some amendments. To
my theory, then let it be known to you that, having expressed it maturely
reasoning my views, I am not in the habit of changing them. When you
come, be kind enough to show the envelope from this letter to my
footman Austin, for he is charged with the duty of protecting me from
obsessive scoundrels who call themselves reporters.
Respecting you
George Edward Challenger.
This was the answer I received, and I read it aloud to Tharp Henry, who deliberately came to the editorial office early to learn the results of my bold attempt. Tharp limited himself to the following remark:
- They say there is some kind of hemostatic agent - cuticura or something like that, it works better than arnica.
Some people are endowed with a strange and incomprehensible sense of humor!
I received the letter at half past ten, but the cab took me to my destination without delay. The house where we stopped was of a very impressive appearance, with a large portal and heavy curtains on the windows, which testified to the wealth of this formidable professor. The door was opened for me by a dark, dry man of indeterminate age, wearing a black sailor jacket and brown leather leggings. Subsequently, I learned that he was a chauffeur who had to perform a wide variety of duties, since footmen did not get along in this house. His light blue eyes looked me searchingly from head to toe.
- Are you expected? - he asked.
- Yes, it was assigned to me.
- Do you have the letter?
I showed the envelope.
- Right.
This man clearly did not like to waste words. I followed him along the corridor, when suddenly a woman quickly came out of the door that must have led to the dining room. Lively, dark-eyed, she looked more like a Frenchwoman than an Englishwoman.
“Just a minute,” said the lady. - Wait, Austin. Come here, sir. Let me ask you, have you met my husband before?
- No, madam, I had no honor.
“Then I apologize to you in advance.” I must warn you that this is a completely impossible person, in the full sense of the word impossible! Knowing this, you will be more lenient towards him.
- I appreciate such attention, madam.
- As soon as you notice that he begins to lose his temper, immediately run out of the room. Don't contradict him. Many have already paid for such carelessness. And then the case gets publicized, and this reflects very badly on me and on all of us. What are you going to talk to him about - not South America?
I can't lie to women.
- My God! This is the most dangerous topic. You won't believe a word he says, and to tell the truth, that's quite natural. Just don’t express your distrust out loud, otherwise he’ll start going on a rampage. Pretend that you believe him, then maybe everything will go well. Don't forget, he is convinced that he is right. You can be sure of this. He is honesty itself. Now go - no matter how suspicious such a delay may seem to him - and when you see that he is becoming dangerous, truly dangerous, ring the bell and try to restrain him until I arrive. I usually cope with it even in the most difficult moments.
With these encouraging words the lady handed me over to the silent Austin, who, during our brief conversation, stood like a bronze statue of the utmost modesty. He led me further. There was a knock on the door, the answering roar of an angry bull from inside, and I found myself face to face with the professor.
He sat on a swivel chair at a wide table littered with books, maps, and drawings. As soon as I crossed the threshold, the swivel chair turned sharply. The sight of this man took my breath away. I was ready to meet an unusual person, but I never even imagined such a thing. What was most striking was its size. Size and majestic posture. I have never seen such a huge head in my life. If I had dared to try on his top hat, I would probably have gone up to my shoulders in it. The professor's face and beard involuntarily brought to mind the image of Assyrian bulls. The face is large, fleshy, the beard is square, blue-black, falling in waves onto the chest. His hair also made an unusual impression - a long strand, as if glued, lay on his high, steep forehead. He had clear gray-blue eyes under shaggy black eyebrows, and he looked at me critically and quite authoritatively. I saw the broadest shoulders, a powerful wheel-shaped chest and two huge arms, thickly overgrown with long black hair. If you add to all this a booming, roaring, thunderous voice, then you will understand what my first impression was of meeting the famous Professor Challenger.
- Well? - he said, staring at me defiantly. - What do you want?
It became clear to me that if I confessed everything right away, this interview would not take place.
“You were so kind, sir, that you agreed to receive me,” I humbly began, handing him the envelope.
He took my letter out of the desk drawer and placed it in front of him.
- Oh, are you that young man who does not understand elementary truths? However, as far as I can judge, my general conclusions have received your praise?
- Of course, sir, of course! “I tried to put all the power of conviction into these words.
- Tell me please! How this reinforces my position! Your age and your appearance make such support doubly valuable. Well, it's better to deal with you than with the herd of pigs that attacked me in Vienna, although their squealing is no more offensive than the grunting of an English hog. - And he glared at me furiously, immediately looking like a representative of the aforementioned tribe.
“They seemed to behave outrageously,” I said.
- Your sympathy is misplaced! I dare to assure you that I myself can cope with my enemies. Put George Edward Challenger's back against the wall, sir, and you wouldn't give him any greater joy. So, sir, let's do our best to shorten your visit. He is unlikely to make you happy, and even less so for me. As far as I understand, you wanted to express some of your thoughts on the theses that I put forward in the report.
There was such an unceremonious straightforwardness in his manner of speaking that it was not easy to be cunning with him. Still, I decided to drag out this game in the hope that I would have the opportunity to make a better move. From a distance everything was so simple! Oh my Irish resourcefulness, won't you help me now when I need you most? The piercing gaze of steel eyes deprived me of strength.
- Well, don't keep yourself waiting! - the professor thundered.
“Of course, I’m just beginning to get involved in science,” I said with a stupid smile, “and I don’t pretend to be more than the title of a modest researcher.” Nevertheless, it seems to me that in this matter you showed excessive severity towards Weisman. Doesn't the evidence obtained since then... strengthen his position?
- What evidence? - He said this with threatening calm.
- I, of course, know that there is no direct evidence yet. I refer, so to speak, to general progress modern scientific thought.
The professor leaned over the table, fixing his concentrated gaze on me.
“You should know,” he said, bending the fingers of his left hand in turn, “that, firstly, the cranial index is a constant factor.”
- Undoubtedly! - I answered.
- And that telegony is still sub judice 1?
- Without a doubt!
- And that germplasm differs from a parthenogenetic egg?
- Of course! - I exclaimed, admiring my own impudence.
- What does this prove? - he asked in a soft, insinuating voice.
“And really,” I mumbled, “what does this prove?”
- Tell you? - the professor said still insinuatingly.
- Be so kind.
“This proves,” he roared with unexpected fury, “that there is not another such charlatan in all of London!” You vile, arrogant reporter who has as little understanding of science as he has of minimal human decency!
He jumped up from his chair. His eyes burned with crazy anger. And yet, even in this tense moment, I could not help but be amazed to see that Professor Challenger was small in stature. He was up to my shoulder - a kind of flattened Hercules, all of whose enormous vital power seemed to have sunk in breadth, depth, and even into the cranium.
- I was talking nonsense, sir! - he cried, leaning his hands on the table and stretching his neck forward. - I was talking utter nonsense! And you decided to compete with me, you, who has the whole brain of a hazelnut! These damn scribblers imagine themselves to be omnipotent! They think that one word of theirs is enough to exalt a person or reduce him to dirt. We should all bow at their feet, begging for praise. This one needs to be protected, and this one needs to be destroyed... I know your vile nature! You have started to take it very high! There was a time when they walked around meekly, but now they’ve gone too far, I can’t stop you. Poor empty nesters! I'll put you in your place! Yes, sir, George Edward Challenger is not your match. This person will not allow himself to be commanded. He warned you, but if you still go after him, then blame yourself. Fant, my dear Mr. Malone! You are owed a forfeit! you started dangerous game and, in my opinion, they were the losers.
“Listen, sir,” I said, backing towards the door and opening it, “you can swear all you want, but there’s a limit to everything.” I will not allow you to come at me with fists!
- Oh, won't you allow it? - he began to slowly, with a threatening look, advance on me, then suddenly stopped and thrust his huge hands into the pockets of a short jacket, more befitting a boy than an adult man. - This is not the first time for me to throw such subjects out of the house. You will be fourth or fifth in a row. A fine of an average of three pounds fifteen shillings was paid for each. A little expensive, but nothing can be done: a necessity! Now, sir, why don't you follow in the footsteps of your colleagues? I personally think this is inevitable. “He again began his attack, which was extremely unpleasant for me, sticking his toes out to the sides, like a real dance teacher.
I could have rushed headlong into the hall, but I considered such an escape shameful. In addition, righteous anger was already beginning to flare up in my soul. Until now my behavior had been highly reprehensible, but this man's threats immediately restored my sense of self-righteousness.
- Hands off, sir! I won't stand for this!
- Tell me please! - His black mustache turned upward, and dazzling white fangs flashed between his lips parted in an evil grin. - So you won’t tolerate this?
- Don't make a fool of yourself, professor! - I shouted. - What do you expect? I weigh over two hundred pounds. I'm as strong as iron and I play rugby for the Irish team every Saturday. You won't be with me...
But at that moment he rushed at me. Fortunately, I had already opened the door, otherwise all that would have been left of it would have been splinters. We cartwheeled along the entire corridor, somehow grabbing a chair along the way. The professor's beard filled my entire mouth, we squeezed each other in an embrace, our bodies were closely intertwined, and the legs of that damned chair were spinning above us. Alert Austin opened the front door wide. We tumbled down the steps. I've seen the Mack Brothers do something similar in a music hall, but it must take some practice to avoid self-mutilation. Having hit the last step, the chair crumbled into small pieces, and we, already separated, found ourselves in a drainage ditch. The professor jumped to his feet, waving his fists and wheezing like an asthmatic.
-Have you had enough? - he shouted, barely catching his breath.
- Hooligan! - I answered and rose from the ground with difficulty.
We almost fought again, since the fighting spirit had not yet died out in the professor, but fate brought me out of this stupid situation. A policeman stood next to us with a notebook in his hands.
- What does it mean? Shame on you! - he said. These were the healthiest words I ever heard in Enmore Park. “Well,” the policeman asked, turning to me, “explain what this means.”
“He attacked me himself,” I said.
- Is it true that you attacked first? - asked the policeman.
The professor only snorted in response.
“And this is not the first time,” said the policeman, shaking his head sternly. - You had troubles last month for exactly the same reason. The young man has a black eye. Are you charging him, sir?
I suddenly changed my anger to mercy:
- No, I don’t?
- Why so? - asked the policeman.
- I have my share of blame here too. I asked him to come to me myself. He warned me honestly.
The policeman slammed the book shut.
“So that these outrages don’t happen again,” he said. - Well, nothing! Disperse! Disperse!
This applied to the boy from the butcher's shop, the maid and two or three onlookers who had already gathered around us. The policeman walked heavily along the sidewalk, driving this small herd in front of him. The professor looked at me, and a funny sparkle flashed in his eyes.
- Come in! - he said. - Our conversation is not over yet.
Although these words sounded ominous, I followed him into the house. Footman Austin, looking like a wooden statue, closed the door behind us.
Chapter IV. THIS IS THE GREATEST DISCOVERY IN THE WORLD!
Before the door had slammed behind us, Mrs. Challenger ran out of the dining room. This tiny woman was beside herself with anger. She stood in front of her husband, like an alarmed stick meeting a bulldog with its chest. Obviously, Mrs. Challenger witnessed my expulsion, but did not notice that I had already returned.
- George! What an atrocity! - she screamed. - You crippled this sweet young man!
- Here he is, alive and well!
Mrs. Challenger was embarrassed, but quickly controlled herself.
- Sorry, I didn't see you.
- Don’t worry, madam, nothing bad happened.
- But he gave you a black eye! What a disgrace! Not a week goes by without a scandal! Everyone hates you, George, everyone makes fun of you! No, my patience is over! This has overflowed the cup!
- Shaking out your dirty laundry in public! - the professor thundered.
- This is no secret to anyone! - she shouted. - Do you really think that our whole street, and for that matter, the whole of London, doesn’t know... Austin, we don’t need you, you can go. Everyone is washing your bones. You forget about self-esteem. You, who should be a professor at a big university, be respected by students! Where is your dignity, George?
-Where is yours, my dear?
- You brought me to God knows what! A hooligan, an outright hooligan! This is what you have become!
- Jesse, pull yourself together.
- Shameless brawler!
- Enough! To the pillory for such words! - said the professor.
And, to my utter amazement, he bent down, picked up his wife and placed her on a high pedestal of black marble that stood in the corner of the hall. This pedestal, at least seven feet high, was so narrow that Mrs. Challenger could hardly stand on it. It was difficult to imagine a more absurd sight - afraid of falling out of there, she seemed petrified with her face distorted with rage and only slightly shifted from foot to foot.
- Take me down! - Mrs. Challenger finally pleaded.
- Say please."
- This is a disgrace, George! Take me off this very minute!
- Mr. Malone, let's go to my office.
“But have mercy, sir!” I said, looking at his wife.
- Do you hear, Jesse? Mr. Malone is interceding on your behalf. Tell me please, then I’ll take it off.
- Disgrace! Well, please, please!
He took it off as easily as if it weighed no more than a canary.
- Behave yourself, my dear. Mr. Malone is a member of the press. Tomorrow he will publish all this in his insignificant newspaper and sell most of the circulation among our neighbors. "Strange quirks of a high-ranking person." The high-ranking person is you, Jesse, remember where I put you a few minutes ago. Then the subtitle: “From the life of one original married couple.” This Mr. Malone does not disdain anything, he eats carrion, like all his brothers, - porcus ex grege diaboli - a pig from the devil's herd. Am I right, Mr. Malone?
“You really are unbearable,” I said heatedly.
The professor laughed.
“You two, perhaps, will form an alliance against me,” he boomed, sticking out his powerful chest and looking first in my direction, then at his wife. Then, in a completely different tone: “Forgive us these innocent family entertainments, Mr. Malone.” I did not invite you to return in order to make you a participant in our harmless squabbles. Well, madam, get out of here and don’t get angry. - He put his huge hands on her shoulders. - You're right, as always. If George Edward Challenger had listened to your advice, he would have been a much more respectable man, but not himself. There are many respectable people, my dear, but George Edward Challenger is the only one in the world. So try to get along with him somehow. He gave his wife a resounding kiss, which confused me much more than all his wild antics. “And now, Mr. Malone,” continued the professor, again assuming a majestic appearance, “you are welcome here.”
We entered the same room from which we had flown out with such a roar ten minutes earlier. The professor carefully closed the door behind him, sat me down in a chair and thrust a box of cigars under my nose.
“The real San Juan Colorado,” he said. “Drugs work well on excitable people like you. My God! Well, who bites off the tip! Cut it off - you have to have respect for the cigar! Now sit back and "Listen carefully to everything that I deign to say to you. If there are any questions, take the trouble to postpone them until a more appropriate time. First of all, about your return to my house after a completely just exile. - He stuck out his beard and stared at me with such an expression , as if he was just waiting for me to get involved in an argument again. - So, I repeat: after your well-deserved exile. Why did I invite you to return? Because I liked your answer to this impudent policeman. I saw in him some glimmers of integrity, not characteristic of members of your profession. By admitting that the fault lies with you, you have shown a certain impartiality and breadth of views, which have earned my favorable attention. The lower representatives of the human race, to which, unfortunately, you belong, have always been beyond my mental horizon. Your words immediately brought you into my field of vision. I wanted to get to know you better, and I invited you to come back. Be kind enough to shake off the ashes into the small Japanese ashtray on that bamboo table that stands next to you.
The professor blurted out all this without a single delay, as if he were giving a lecture to the students. He sat facing me, puffed up like a huge toad, his head thrown back, his eyes narrowed contemptuously. Then he suddenly turned sideways, so that I could only see a tuft of his hair above his protruding red ear, turned over a pile of papers on the table and pulled out some very tattered book.
“I want to tell you something about South America,” he began. - You can keep your comments to yourself. First of all, be kind enough to remember: what you are about to hear about, I forbid making it public in any form until you receive the appropriate permission from me. This permission, in all likelihood, will never be given. It's clear?
- Why such excessive severity? - I said. - In my opinion, an impartial presentation...
He put the book on the table.
- We have nothing more to talk about. I wish you all the best.
- No no! I agree to any conditions! - I cried. - After all, I don’t have to choose.
“There can be no question of choice,” he confirmed.
- Then I promise you to remain silent.
- Honestly?
- Honestly.
He looked at me with an impudent and incredulous look.
- How do I know what your concept of honor is?
“Well, you know, sir,” I shouted angrily, “you allow yourself too much!” I have never had to listen to such insults!
My outburst not only did not piss him off, but even interested him.
“Short-headed guy,” he muttered. - Brachycephalic, gray eyes, dark hair, some Negroid features... Are you probably a Celt?
- I'm Irish, sir.
- Pureblood?
- Yes, sir.
- Then everything is clear. So, you gave me your word to keep secret the information that I tell you. This information will, of course, be very meager. But I will share some interesting data with you. You probably know that two years ago I made a trip to South America, a journey that will be included in the golden fund of world science. Its purpose was to test some of the conclusions of Wallace and Bates, and this could only be done on the spot, under the same conditions under which they carried out their observations. If the results of my journey had been limited to this, they would still have been worthy of all attention, but then one unforeseen circumstance occurred that forced me to direct my research along a completely different path.
You probably know - but who knows: in our age of ignorance nothing is surprising - that some places along which the Amazon River flows have not been fully explored and that many tributaries flow into it that have not yet been mapped. So I set myself the task of visiting these little-known places and examining their fauna, and this gave me so much material that it would be enough for several chapters of that huge, monumental work on zoology, which will serve as a justification for my whole life. Having finished the expedition, I returned home, and on the way back I had to spend the night in a small Indian village, not far from the place where one of its tributaries flows into the Amazon - I will keep silent about the name and geographical position of this tributary. In the village lived Indians of the Kukamamir tribe, but already a degenerating people, whose mental level hardly rises above that of the average Londoner... I cured several of the local residents on my first visit, when I was going up the river, and in general made a strong impression on the Indians, so it is not surprising that they were waiting for me there. They immediately began to explain to me by signs that there was a person in the village who needed my help, and I followed their leader to one of the huts. Entering there, I was convinced that the sufferer who needed help had just given up the ghost. To my surprise, he turned out not to be an Indian, but white, the whitest of whites, so to speak, for he had very blond hair and everything characteristic features albino. All that was left of his clothes were rags, his terribly emaciated body testified to long deprivations. As far as I could understand the Indians, they had never seen this man before; he came to the village from the thicket of the forest, alone, without companions, and could barely stand on his feet from weakness. The stranger's duffel bag lay next to him, and I examined its contents. Sewn inside was a label with the name and address of the owner: "Maple White, Lake Avenue, Detroit, Michigan.. To this name I am always ready to bare my head. It is not an exaggeration to say that when the importance of the discovery I have made receives general recognition, his name will stand next to mine.
The contents of the bag clearly indicated that Maple-White was an artist and poet who went in search of new vivid impressions. There were drafts of poems. I don't consider myself an expert in this area, but it seems to me that they leave much to be desired. In addition, I found in the bag rather mediocre river landscapes, a box of paints, a box of pastel pencils, brushes, this curved bone that lies on the inkwell, Bexter's volume "Moths and Butterflies", a cheap revolver and several cartridges for it. Personal items He apparently lost his household goods during his travels, or perhaps he had none at all.This strange representative of American bohemia did not have any other property.
I was about to leave when I suddenly noticed that something was sticking out of the pocket of his torn jacket. It was an album for sketches - here it is, in front of you, and just as shabby as it was then. You can be sure that since this relic came into my hands I have treated it with no less reverence than I would have treated a first edition of Shakespeare. Now I hand over this album to you and ask you to look through it page by page and delve into the content of the drawings.
He lit a cigar, leaned back in his chair and, without taking his fierce and at the same time searching gaze off my face, began to watch what impression these drawings would make on me.
I opened the album, expecting to find some revelations there - which ones were not clear to me. However, the first page disappointed me, because on it there was a drawing of a burly fellow in a sailor's jacket, and under the drawing there was a caption: "Jimmy Colver on board the mail steamer." This was followed by several small genre sketches from the life of the Indians. Then a drawing depicting a complacent, fat man of clergy, in a wide-brimmed hat, sitting at a table in the company of a very thin European.
The caption explained: "Breakfast at Fra Cristofero's in Rosario." The next pages were filled with women's and children's heads, and behind them came a whole series of sketches of animals with the following explanations: “A manatee on a sandbank,” “Turtles and turtle eggs,” “A black agouti under a palm tree.” The agouti turned out to be very similar to a pig, - and finally, the next two pages were occupied by sketches of some very nasty lizards with long noses. I didn’t know what to think about all this, and turned to the professor for clarification:
- These are probably crocodiles?
- Alligators! Alligators! True crocodiles are not found in South America. The difference between one and the other is...
“I just want to say that I don’t see anything special here - nothing that could confirm your words.”
He answered me with a serene smile:
- Turn another page.
But the next page didn’t convince me of anything. It was a landscape, barely outlined in watercolor, one of those unfinished sketches that serve the artist only as a blueprint for a future, more thorough development of the plot. The foreground of the sketch was occupied by pale green feathery plants, rising up a slope that turned into a line of dark red ribbed rocks that somehow reminded me of basalt formations. In the background these rocks stood like a solid wall. To the right rose a pyramidal cliff, apparently separated from the main ridge by a deep crevice; its top was crowned with a huge tree. Above all this shone the blue tropical sky. A narrow edge of green bordered the tops of the red rocks. On the next page I saw another watercolor sketch of the same landscape, done from a closer distance, so that its details stood out more clearly.
- Well, sir? - said the professor.
“The formation is indeed very interesting,” I answered, “but it is difficult for me to judge how exceptional it is, because I am not a geologist.”
- Exceptional? - he repeated. - Yes, this is a one-of-a-kind landscape! He seems incredible! I can’t even dream of something like this! Turn the page.
I turned it over and couldn’t hold back my exclamation of surprise. From the next page of the album something extraordinary looked at me. Such a monster could only arise in the visions of an opium smoker or in the delirium of a feverish patient. His head was like a bird's, his body was like that of an enormously swollen lizard, his tail trailing along the ground bristled with sharp spines, and his curved back was lined with tall spines, similar to the combs of a rooster. In front of this creature stood a small man, almost a dwarf.
- Well, what do you say to this? - exclaimed the professor, rubbing his hands with a triumphant look.
- This is something monstrous, some kind of grotesque.
- What made the artist depict such a beast?
- Nothing more than a substantial portion of gin.
-Can’t you think of a better explanation?
- Okay, sir, how do you explain this yourself?
- It’s very simple: such an animal exists. It is quite obvious that this drawing was made from life.
I didn’t burst out laughing only because I remembered in time how we rolled along the entire corridor.
“Without a doubt, without a doubt,” I said with that obsequiousness that is usually not stingy in a conversation with weak-minded people. - True, this tiny human figure confuses me a little. If an Indian were drawn here, one would think that there was some kind of pygmy tribe in America, but this is a European, he is wearing a pith helmet.
The professor snorted like an angry buffalo.
- You enrich me with experience! - he shouted. - The boundaries of human stupidity are much wider than I thought! You are mentally stagnant! Amazing!
This outburst was so ridiculous that it didn't even make me angry. And was it worth wasting your nerves? If you are going to be angry with this person, then be angry every minute, at every word he says. I limited myself to a tired smile.
“I was amazed by the size of this pygmy,” I said.
- Look! - the professor shouted, leaning towards me and pointing his hairy finger, thick as a sausage, at the album. - Do you see the plant behind the animal? You probably mistook them for dandelion or Brussels sprouts, right? No, sir, it is a South American palm called the ivory palm, and it reaches fifty to sixty feet in height. Don't you realize that the human figure is drawn here for a reason? An artist would not be able to stay alive if he came face to face with such a beast; there is no time for drawing. He depicted himself only to give an idea of ​​the scale. He was... well, let's say a little over five feet tall. The tree is, as you would expect, ten times taller.
- Lord God! - I exclaimed. - So you think that this creature was... But if you look for a kennel for him, then Charing Cross Station will be too small!
“This is, of course, an exaggeration, but the specimen is really large,” the professor said proudly.
“But you can’t,” I exclaimed, “you can’t sweep aside the entire experience of the human race on the basis of one drawing!” - I flipped through the remaining pages and made sure that there was nothing else in the album. A single drawing by some vagabond artist who could have made it while smoking hashish, or in a feverish delirium, or simply to please his sick imagination. You, as a man of science, cannot defend such a point of view.
Instead of answering, the professor took down a book from the shelf.
“Here is a brilliant monograph by my talented friend Ray Lankester,” he said. - There is one illustration here that you will find interesting. Yep, here she is. Signed below: "Alleged appearance Stegosaurus dinosaur of the Jurassic period. The hind limbs are twice the height of a man." Well, what do you say now?
He handed me an open book. I looked at the illustration and winced. There was undoubtedly a great resemblance between the sketch of an unknown artist and this representative of a long-dead world, recreated by the imagination of a scientist.
- It's truly amazing! - I said.
- And yet you continue to persist?
- But maybe this is just a coincidence, or maybe your American has ever seen such a picture and remembered it in his delirium.
“Great,” the professor said patiently, “let it be so.” Now please have the courtesy to take a look at this.
He handed me a bone, which he said was found among the deceased’s belongings. It was about six inches long, thicker than my thumb, and at the end there were remains of completely dried cartilage.
- Which of the animals known to us could such a bone belong to? asked the professor.
I examined her carefully, calling to my aid all the knowledge that had not yet disappeared from my head.
“This could be the collarbone of a very tall person,” I said.
My interlocutor waved his hands contemptuously:
- The human collarbone has curved shape, and this bone is completely straight. There is a hollow on its surface, indicating that a large tendon passed here. There is nothing like that on the collarbone.
- Then it’s difficult for me to answer you.
- Don't be afraid to flaunt your ignorance. I think that among the zoologists of South Kensington there is not a single one who could identify this bone. “He took the pill box and took out a small bone the size of a bean. - As far as I can tell, this bone corresponds in the structure of the human skeleton to the one you hold in your hand. Now do you have some idea about the size of the animal? Don’t forget about the remains of cartilage - they indicate that it was a fresh specimen and not a fossil. Well, what do you say now?
- Maybe the elephant...
He shuddered as if in pain.
- Enough! Enough! Elephants are in South America! Don't you dare even mention it! Even in our modern elementary school...
“Well, okay,” I interrupted him. - Not an elephant, but some other South American animal, for example, a tapir.
- Believe me, young man, that I have elementary knowledge in this branch of science. It is impossible to even admit the idea that such a bone belongs to a tapir or any other animal known to zoologists. This is the bone of a very strong animal that exists somewhere on the globe, but is still unknown to science. Are you still in doubt?
- In any case, it interested me very much.
- So you are not hopeless yet. I sense that there is something sparkling in your brain, so let us patiently fan this spark. Let us now leave the late American and move on again to my story. Of course, you can guess that I couldn’t part with Amazon without finding out what was going on. I had some information about where this artist came from. However, I could be guided only by the legends of the Indians, for the motif of an unknown country slips into all the legends of the riverine tribes. Of course, you have heard about Kurupuri?
- No, I haven’t heard.
- Kurupuri is a forest spirit, something evil, menacing; meeting him leads to death. No one can really describe Kurupuri, but the name strikes fear into the Indians. However, all the tribes living on the banks of the Amazon agree on one thing: they indicate exactly where Curupuri lives. The American came from the same places. Something incomprehensibly terrible lurks there. And I decided to find out what was going on.
- How did you do it?
There was no trace left of my frivolity. This giant knew how to win attention and respect for himself.
- I managed to overcome the resistance of the Indians - the internal resistance that they show when you start a conversation with them about this. Having used all sorts of persuasion, gifts and, I must confess, threats, I found two guides. After many adventures - there is no need to describe them - after many days of travel - I will allow myself to remain silent about the route and its length - we finally came to those places that have not been described by anyone before and where no one has ever been, unless consider my ill-fated predecessor. Now please look at this.
He handed me a small photograph.
“Her deplorable condition is explained by the fact that when we were going down the river, our boat overturned and the case in which the undeveloped negatives were stored broke. The results of this disaster are obvious. Almost all the negatives were lost - a completely irreparable loss. This photograph is one of the few that have more or less survived. You will have to be content with this explanation of its imperfection. There are rumors about some kind of falsification, but I am not in the mood to argue on this topic now.
The photo was really quite pale. An unkind critic could easily find fault with this. Peering into the dull gray landscape and gradually understanding its details, I saw a long, enormous line of rocks, reminiscent of a giant waterfall, and in the foreground a gently sloping plain with trees scattered across it.
“If I’m not mistaken, this landscape was also in the album,” I said.
“Exactly right,” answered the professor. - I found traces of a parking lot there. Now look at another photo.
It was the same landscape, only taken in greater detail. The picture was completely ruined. Still, I saw a lonely cliff topped with a tree, which was separated from the ridge by a crevice.
“Now I have no doubts left,” I admitted.
“So it’s not in vain that we’re trying,” said the professor. - Look at the progress! Now please look at the top of this cliff. Do you see anything there?
- A huge tree.
- And on the tree?
- A big bird.
He handed me a magnifying glass.
“Yes,” I said, looking through it, “a big bird is sitting on a tree.” She has a rather solid beak. This is probably a pelican?
“Your eyesight is unenviable,” said the professor. - This is not a pelican or a bird at all. Let it be known to you that I managed to shoot this very creature. And it served as the only indisputable evidence that I took from there.
- Is it here with you? Finally, I will see material confirmation of all these stories!
- I had it. Unfortunately, the disaster on the river destroyed not only the negatives, but also this mine. It was caught in a whirlpool, and no matter how hard I tried to save my treasure, only half of the wing remained in my hand. I lost consciousness and only woke up when I was washed ashore, but this pitiful remnant of a magnificent specimen was safe and sound. Here he is, in front of you.
The professor took out from his desk drawer something that, in my opinion, resembled the upper part of the wing of a huge bat. This curved, webbed bone was at least two or more feet long.
- A bat of monstrous size? - I expressed my assumption.
- Nothing like this! - the professor sternly besieged me. - Living in an atmosphere of high education and science, I had no idea that the basic principles of zoology were so little known in wide circles of society. Are you not familiar with the most elementary proposition of comparative anatomy, which states that the wing of a bird is essentially a forearm, while the wing of a bat consists of three elongated fingers with a membrane between them? In this case, the bone has nothing in common with the forearm bone, and you can see with your own eyes that there is only one membrane. Therefore, there is nothing to remember about the bat. But if it's not a bird and bat, then what are we dealing with? What could it be?
My modest stock of knowledge was exhausted to the bottom.
“Really, I find it difficult to answer you,” I said.
The professor opened the monograph to which he had already referred before.
“Here,” he continued, showing me some kind of monster with wings, here is a magnificent image of a dimorphodon, or pterodactyl, a winged lizard of the Jurassic period, and on the next page a diagram of the mechanism of its wing. Compare it with what you have in your hands.
At the first glance at the diagram, I shuddered in amazement. She finally convinced me. There was no point in arguing. The combination of all the data did its job. A sketch, photographs, a professor's story, and now physical evidence! What else can you ask for? So I told the professor - I said it with all the vehemence of which I was capable, for now it became clear to me that this man had been treated unfairly. He leaned back in his chair, narrowed his eyes and smiled indulgently, basking in the rays of the sun of recognition that suddenly flashed upon him.
- This is the greatest discovery in the world! - I exclaimed, although the temperament of a journalist rather than a natural scientist spoke up in me. This is huge! You are the Columbus of science! You have discovered a lost world! I sincerely regret that I doubted the truth of your words. All this seemed incredible to me. But I cannot help but acknowledge the obvious facts, and they should be equally convincing to everyone.
The professor purred with pleasure.
- What did you do next, sir?
- The rainy season has arrived, Mr. Malone, and my food supplies are running low. I explored part of this huge mountain ridge, but could not climb it. The pyramidal cliff from which I shot the pterodactyl turned out to be more accessible. Remembering my climbing skills, I climbed it to about the middle. From there it was already possible to see the plateau crowning the mountain range. It was simply incredible! No matter where you look - to the west, to the east - there is no end in sight to these green-covered rocks. At the foot of the ridge lie swamps and impenetrable thickets, infested with snakes and other reptiles. A real breeding ground for fever. It is quite understandable that such obstacles serve as a natural defense for this extraordinary country.
-Did you see any other signs of life there?
- No, sir, I didn’t, but during the week that we spent at the foot of these rocks, we more than once heard some strange sounds coming from somewhere above.
- But what kind of creature is this that the American painted? How did he meet him?
“I can only assume that he somehow got to the very top of the ridge and saw him there.” Therefore, there is some way there. The path is undoubtedly difficult, otherwise all these monsters would come down and fill everything around. There can be no doubt about anything else!
- But how did they end up there?
“In my opinion, there is nothing mysterious here,” said the professor. The explanation suggests itself. As you probably know, South America is a granite continent. In distant centuries, a sudden displacement of strata apparently occurred in this place as a result of a volcanic eruption. Do not forget that these rocks are basalt, therefore they are of volcanic origin. An area approximately the size of our county of Sussex jutted up with all its inhabitants and was cut off from the rest of the mainland by sheer cliffs of such hard rock that no weathering is afraid of it. What happened? The laws of nature have lost their force in this place. All kinds of obstacles that determine the struggle for existence in the rest of the world have either disappeared or have changed radically. Animals that would normally go extinct continued to reproduce. As you know, both pterodactyl and stegosaurus belong to the Jurassic period, therefore, both of them are the oldest animals in the history of the Earth, surviving only thanks to completely unusual, accidentally created conditions.
- But the information you obtained leaves no room for doubt! You only need to present them to the appropriate persons.
“I thought so myself in the simplicity of my soul,” the professor answered bitterly. “I can only tell you one thing: in reality, everything turned out differently - at every step I had to deal with mistrust, which was based on human stupidity or envy. It is not in my nature, sir, to grovel before anyone and prove that I am right when my words are questioned. I immediately decided that it was not appropriate for me to present the material evidence that was at my disposal. The topic itself became hateful to me, I did not want to touch it either in one word. When my peace was disturbed by people like you, people catering to the idle curiosity of the crowd, I was unable to repel them without losing my self-esteem. By nature, I must admit, I am a rather hot-tempered person and, if I am brought out of patience, I can cause all sorts of trouble. I'm afraid you had to experience this yourself.
I touched my swollen eye, but remained silent.
- Mrs. Challenger constantly quarrels with me about this, but, in my opinion, any decent person would do the same thing in my place. However, today I intend to set an example of endurance and show how will can overcome temperament. I invite you to admire this spectacle.
He took a card from the table and handed it to me.
- As you can see, today at eight thirty minutes in the evening at the Zoological Institute there will be a lecture by the rather popular naturalist Mr. Percival Waldron on the topic “Tablets of the Ages.” I am invited to take a place on the presidium specifically so that on behalf of all those present I express gratitude to the lecturer. That's what I'll do. But this will not stop me - of course, with the greatest tact and caution! make a few comments that will interest the audience and make some people want to take a closer look at the issues I have raised. Controversial issues, of course, will not be touched upon, but everyone will understand what deep problems lie behind my words. I promise to control myself. Who knows, maybe my restraint will lead to best results.
-Can I come there? - I hastened to ask.
“Of course... of course you can,” the professor answered cordially.
His politeness was almost as stunning as his rudeness. What was his benign smile worth! The eyes were almost invisible, and the cheeks were swollen, turning into two ruddy apples, supported from below by a black beard.
- Be sure to come. I will be pleased to know that I have at least one ally in the room, albeit a very helpless and ignorant one in matters of science. There will probably be a lot of people there, since Waldron is very popular, despite the fact that he is a charlatan pure water. So, Mr. Malone, I spent much more time with you than I expected. An individual cannot monopolize what belongs to all humanity. I'll be glad to see you at the lecture this evening. In the meantime, let me remind you that the material with which I introduced you is in no way subject to publicity.
- But Mr. McArdle... this is our editor... will demand from me a report on the conversation with you.
- Tell him the first thing that comes to mind. By the way, you can hint that if he sends someone else to me, I will come to him myself, armed with a good whip. For everything else I rely on you: not a word in print! So beautiful. So, at eight thirty - at the Zoological Institute.
He waved goodbye to me. I saw his rosy cheeks, his wavy blue-black beard, his daring eyes for the last time and left the room.
Chapter V. THIS IS NOT A FACT YET!
Either the physical shock of my first visit to Professor Challenger affected me, or the moral shock of the second visit played a role, but, finding myself again on the street, I felt that as a reporter I was completely demoralized. My head was aching with pain, and yet in my brain, without ceasing for a minute, the thought was pounding that this man was telling the truth, the importance of which is difficult to overestimate, and that when I was allowed to use his story for an article, our newspaper would receive sensational material . Seeing a cab on the corner, I jumped into it and went to the editorial office. McArdle, as always, was at his post.
- Well? - he shouted impatiently. - Tell me, how many lines do you need? You look, young man, as if you had come here straight from the battlefield. Was there really no fight?
- Yes, at first we didn’t get along a little.
- Here's a man! Well, what then?
- Then he came to his senses, and the conversation passed peacefully. But I couldn’t get anything out of him, not even for a small note.
- That's how to say it! Isn't a black eye material for a note? Enough of him terrorizing us, Mr. Malone! Let's put it in its place. Tomorrow I’ll post an article that will make him feel hot. Just give me the material, and I will brand this subject once and for all. "Professor Munchausen. - what do you say about such a hat? "Resurrected Cagliostro.! Let us remember all the hoaxers and charlatans that history has known. He will get from me in full for all his frauds!
- I wouldn't recommend it, sir.
- Why?
- Because this man is not a fraud at all.
- How! - McArdle roared. - Did you believe his stories about mammoths, mastodons and the sea serpent?
- In my opinion, this is not even in his thoughts. In any case, I haven't heard anything like that. But it is now absolutely clear to me that Challenger can contribute something new to science.
- Then what are you thinking about? Sit down and write an article,
- I would be glad to write, but he obliged me to keep everything secret and only on this condition agreed to talk to me. - I outlined the professor’s story in two or three words. - Do you see how things are?
McArdle's face expressed the deepest disbelief.
“Then let’s get on with this meeting, Mr. Malone,” he said finally. - There’s probably nothing secret about it. Other newspapers are unlikely to be interested in him, because Waldron's lectures have been written about hundreds of times, and no one suspects that Challenger is going to speak there. If we're lucky, we'll get some sensational material. In any case, go there and provide me with a detailed report. I'll hold a free column for you until twelve o'clock.
I had a busy day ahead of me, so I decided to dine early at the club and, inviting Tharpe Henry to a table, told him briefly about my adventures. A skeptical smile never left his thin, dark face, and when I admitted that the professor had convinced me that he was right, Tharp could not resist and laughed loudly.
- My dear friend, such miracles do not happen in life! Where has it been seen that people accidentally stumble upon greatest discoveries, and then lost all the material evidence? Leave the fiction to the novelists. In terms of clever tricks, your professor will outshine all the monkeys in the zoo. After all, this is incredible nonsense!
- And the artist is American?
- Fictional figure.
- I saw his album myself!
- This is the Challenger album.
- So you think the drawing is also his own?
- Well, of course! Whose else?
- What about photographs?
- You can’t see anything on them. You yourself say that you only saw some kind of bird.
- Pterodactyl.
- Yes, according to his words. You succumbed to suggestion and believed,
- Well, what about the bones?
- He extracted the first one from a stew, made the second one with my own hands. All you need is a certain amount of ingenuity and knowledge of the matter, and then you can falsify anything - a bone or a photograph.
I felt somehow uneasy. Maybe I really got too carried away? And suddenly a happy thought struck me.
- Will you go to this lecture? - I asked.
Tharp Henry thought for a moment.
“Your brilliant Challenger is not particularly popular,” he said. - Many are not averse to settling scores with him. There is probably no other person in all of London who would evoke such a feeling of hostility. If medical students come running to a lecture, there won't be any scandals. No, I don’t want to go to this madhouse.
- At least give him credit - listen to him.
- Yes, perhaps justice requires this. Okay, I'll be your companion for tonight.
When we approached the Zoological Institute, I saw that, beyond my expectations, many people were gathering for the lecture. Electric carriages, one after another, brought the gray-haired professors to the entrance, and a more modest audience poured into the arched doors, indicating that not only scientists, but also representatives of the general public would be present in the hall. And in fact, as soon as we took our seats, we immediately became convinced that the gallery and the back rows were behaving more than at ease. Apparently, there were medical students sitting there. Probably all the major hospitals sent their interns here. The audience was good-natured, but behind this good-naturedness lay mischief. Every now and then snatches of popular songs were heard, sung in chorus and with great enthusiasm - a very strange prelude to a scientific lecture! The audience's penchant for off-hand jokes made itself felt clearly. This promised a lot of entertainment in the future for everyone, except those people to whom these dubious jokes were supposed to directly apply.
For example, as soon as Dr. Meldrum appeared on the stage in his famous top hat with a curved brim, unanimous cries were heard from all sides: “That’s a bucket! Where did you get it?.” The old man immediately pulled the top hat off his head and secretly put it under the chair. As the gouty Professor Wadley hobbled to his seat, the jokers, to his great embarrassment, inquired in unison whether the professor had a sore toe. But the warmest welcome was given to my new acquaintance, Professor Challenger. To get to his place - the last one in the first row - he had to walk across the entire stage. As soon as his black beard appeared in the doorway, the audience burst into such loud cheers that I thought: Tharpe Henry's fears were confirmed - the audience was attracted here not so much by the lecture itself, but by the opportunity to look at the famous professor, rumors about whose speech, apparently, had already spread spread everywhere.
When he appeared in the front rows, occupied by a well-dressed audience, laughter was heard - this time the stalls were sympathetic to the outrage of the students. The public greeted Challenger with a deafening roar, like predators in a cage in a zoological garden who heard the footsteps of a servant in the distance at feeding time. There were clearly disrespectful notes in this roar, but, in general, the noisy reception given to the professor expressed interest in him rather than hostility or contempt. Challenger smiled tiredly and condescendingly, as a good-natured person smiles when a pack of yapping puppies swarms at him, then he slowly sank into a chair, straightened his shoulders, lovingly stroked his beard and, squinting, looked arrogantly into the crowded hall. The roar had not yet died down when the chairman, Professor Ronald Murray, and the lecturer, Mr. Waldron, appeared on the platform. The meeting has begun. I hope Professor Murray will forgive me if I reproach him for suffering from a defect common to most Englishmen, namely, slurred speech. In my opinion, this is one of the mysteries of our century. Why don't people who have something to say want to learn to speak clearly? This is as pointless as pouring precious moisture through a pipe with a closed tap, which can be turned off all the way without any difficulty.

End of free trial.

For the vast majority of readers, Arthur Conan Doyle is the author of detective stories and the literary father of detective Sherlock Holmes. But he has other works to his credit, albeit not as popular as the stories about the adventures of the great detective. These include the story “The Lost World”, a brief summary of which we will try to present to you.

Here Sir Arthur appears to readers as a science fiction writer. The author turns to the flora and fauna of the Jurassic period, making a bold assumption that dinosaurs could well have survived on our planet, still living in inaccessible and little-studied corners of the earth. At the time of writing the book, the least explored place on the planet was, however, there are still many places where “no one has gone before.” white man“, as the author’s contemporaries liked to say.

Conan Doyle - The Lost World

Let's begin to re-state the summary. The Lost World begins with a declaration of love. Budding reporter Edward Malone asks the hand and heart of his beloved Gladys. The girl refuses him for the reason that he is too ordinary for her exalted nature, and that only an outstanding and courageous person, capable of doing risky things for the sake of love, can hope to become her husband. Impressed by such a rebuke, our hero runs to the editor, demanding to immediately send him to the most risky place on Earth. So that he could make an outstanding report from there. The world-wise editor grants the request of the ambitious young man. The most dangerous assignment turns out to be the task of interviewing the notorious Professor Challenger, who became famous throughout London for his pathological dislike of the journalistic fraternity. Malone can only agree to this task, and after a small fight with the professor, he receives an invitation to attend a press conference at which Challenger is to make a sensational statement.

As all readers of The Lost World, the summary of which we present here, have already guessed, this statement is that dinosaurs did not go extinct. The professor himself saw them during his expedition, but was unable to preserve the evidence. The scientific community laughed at such a bold statement, but nevertheless decided to organize another expedition, consisting of Challenger’s opponent, Professor Summerlee, and independent public representatives. Naturally, our hero decides to become this very representative from the press. The second candidate was the famous hunter Lord John Roxton.

The composition of the commission has been approved, and a group of daredevils leaves for South America. There they are unexpectedly joined by Challenger, who decides to personally lead the expedition. After numerous adventures, they come to the foot of the plateau, on which the lost world is located.

The summary of the story does not imply a detailed retelling of the twists and turns of the plot; the interested person will read them himself in the book, but we will only outline the outline of the work. By the will of fate and a criminal conspiracy, our heroes find themselves cut off from the world on this mysterious plateau and forced not only to observe dinosaurs as researchers, but also to save their lives, which are actively being attacked by carnivorous lizards.

After numerous adventures, the expedition still manages to leave the lost world. A summary of their journey was recorded by our reporter, and he provided it to his editorial office immediately upon their return. A new conference is being held, now four people claim that dinosaurs are alive. But again there are skeptics who do not believe in this. If previously only Challenger’s words were questioned, now they also express distrust of the message of our heroic four. But Challenger, taught by bitter experience, presents a living pterodactyl to the audience, which completely confirms the veracity of his statements.

Our travelers are proclaimed almost national heroes, and the young lover hurries to his Gladys in order to repeat the attempt at marriage proposal. Now he can count on reciprocity, since thanks to him a whole lost world was discovered.

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