“You seem very anxious to lose your life.”
“To justify my life, Sir.”
“Dear me, Mr. Malone, I’m afraid the day for this sort of thing is rather past. There’s no room for romance… Wait a bit, though!” he added, with a sudden smile. “What about exposing a fraud… a modern Munchausen[12]… and making him ridiculous? You could show him as the liar that he is! How does it sound to you?”
“Anything… anywhere… I don’t care.”
McArdle was plunged in thought for some minutes.
“You seem to have, I suppose, animal magnetism, or youthful energy, or something… So why should you not try your luck with Professor Challenger?”
I looked a little startled.
“Challenger!” I cried. “Professor Challenger, the famous zoologist! The man who broke the skull of Blundell, of the Telegraph!”
The news editor smiled grimly.
“Do you mind? Didn’t you say it was adventures you wanted?”
“Yes, sir,” I answered.
“I don’t suppose he can always be so violent as that. You may have better luck, or more tact in handling him.”
“I really know nothing about him,” I said. “I only remember his name in connection with the police-court proceedings, for striking Blundell. I am not very clear yet why I am to interview this gentleman. What else has he done?”
“He went to South America on a expedition two years ago. Came back last year. Had undoubtedly been to South America, but refused to say exactly where. Began to tell his adventures in a vague way but then just shut up like an oyster. Something wonderful happened… or the man’s a great liar. Had some damaged photographs, said to be fakes. Now he attacks anyone who asks questions and kicks reporters downstairs.[13] In my opinion he’s just a maniac with a turn for science. That’s your man, Mr. Malone. Now, go. We’ll see what you can do. You’re big enough to look after yourself.”
I left the office and entered the Savage Club and found the very man I needed. Tarp Henry, of the staff of Nature, a thin, dry, leathery creature, who was full of kindly humanity.
“What do you know of Professor Challenger?” I asked him at once.
“Challenger? He was the man who came with some story from South America.”
“What story?”
“Oh, it was nonsense about some animals he had discovered. I believe he has retracted[14] since. He gave an interview to Reuter’s, and there was such a howl that he saw it wouldn’t do. There were one or two men who were inclined to take him seriously, but he soon removed them.”
“How?”
“Well, by his rudeness and impossible behaviour. There was poor old Wadley, of the Zoological Institute. Wadley sent a message: ‘The President of the Zoological Institute presents his compliments to Professor Challenger, and would take it as a personal favour if he would do them the honour to come to their next meeting.’ The answer was unprintable.”
“Good Lord! Anything more about Challenger?”
“Well, he’s a fanatic.”
“In what particular sphere?”
“There are lots of examples, but the latest is something about Weissmann and Evolution. He had a fearful row about it in Vienna, I believe. There is a translation of the proceedings at our office. Would you like to have a look?”
“It’s just what I need! I have to interview the fellow. I’ll go with you now, if it is not too late.”
Half an hour later I was seated in the newspaper office with a huge tome in front of me, reading the article “Weissmann versus Darwin.” I couldn’t make out a word as if it were written in Chinese, but it was evident that the English Professor had spoken in a very aggressive way, and had thoroughly annoyed his Continental colleagues.
“I wish you could translate it into English for me,” I said, pathetically, to my friend.
“Well, it is a translation.”
“All I need is a single good sentence which conveys some sort of definite human idea. Ah, yes, this one will do. I even seem to understand it. I’ll copy it out. This shall be my link with the terrible Professor.”
“Nothing else I can do?”
“Well, yes; I am going to write to him. If I could use your address it would give atmosphere.”
“Well, that’s my chair and desk. You’ll find paper there.”
It took some time and when it was finished it wasn’t such a bad job. I read it aloud to Tarp Henry.
“DEAR PROFESSOR CHALLENGER,” it said, “As a modest student of Nature, I have always been interested in your speculations, especially about the differences between Darwin and Weissmann…”
“You liar!” murmured Tarp Henry.
“… But there is one sentence in your speech at Vienna, namely: ‘I protest strongly against the insufferable and entirely dogmatic assertion that each separate id is a microcosm possessed of an historical architecture elaborated slowly through the series of generations.’[15] With your permission, I would ask the favour of an interview, as I don’t quite understand it and have certain suggestions which I could only tell you in a personal conversation. With your consent, I trust to have the honour of calling at eleven o’clock the day after tomorrow (Wednesday) morning.
Yours very truly, EDWARD D. MALONE.”
“But what do you mean to do?” Tarp Henry asked.
“To get there. Once I am in his room I may see some variants. If he is a sportsman he will like it.”
“Indeed a sportsman! Chain mail,[16] or an American football suit… that’s what you’ll need. Well, good-bye. I’ll have the answer for you here on Wednesday morning… if he ever answers you. He is a dangerous character. Perhaps it would be best for you if you never heard from the fellow at all.”
Chapter 3
He Is a Perfectly Impossible Person
However when I called on Wednesday there was a letter with the West Kensington postmark upon it, and my name scrawled across the envelope. The contents were as follows:
“SIR, – I have duly received your note, in which you claim to support my views. You quote an isolated sentence from my lecture, and appear to have some difficulty in understanding it. I should have thought that only a stupid person could have failed to grasp the point, but if it really needs explanation I shall see you at the hour named. As for your suggestions I would have you know that it is not my habit to change my views. You will kindly show the envelope of this letter to my man, Austin, when you call, as he has to take every precaution to protect me from the intrusive people who call themselves ‘journalists’.
Yours faithfully, GEORGE EDWARD CHALLENGER.”
This was the letter that I read aloud to Tarp Henry. His only remark was that I should take along some haemostatic.[17] Some people have such extraordinary sense of humor.
A taxicab took me round in good time for my appointment. It was an imposing house at which we stopped. The door was opened by an odd person of uncertain age. He looked me up and down with a searching light blue eye.
“Expected?” he asked.
“An appointment.” I showed the envelope.
“Right!” He seemed to be a person of few words. I entered and saw a small woman. She was a bright,