The Poison Belt | Page 6

cried. "Don't tell me that YOU have had one of these
preposterous telegrams for oxygen?"

I exhibited it.
"Well, well! I have had one too, and, as you see, very much against the
grain, I have acted upon it. Our good friend is as impossible as ever.
The need for oxygen could not have been so urgent that he must desert
the usual means of supply and encroach upon the time of those who are
really busier than himself. Why could he not order it direct?"
I could only suggest that he probably wanted it at once.
"Or thought he did, which is quite another matter. But it is superfluous
now for you to purchase any, since I have this considerable supply."
"Still, for some reason he seems to wish that I should bring oxygen too.
It will be safer to do exactly what he tells me."
Accordingly, in spite of many grumbles and remonstrances from
Summerlee, I ordered an additional tube, which was placed with the
other in his motor-car, for he had offered me a lift to Victoria.
I turned away to pay off my taxi, the driver of which was very
cantankerous and abusive over his fare. As I came back to Professor
Summerlee, he was having a furious altercation with the men who had
carried down the oxygen, his little white goat's beard jerking with
indignation. One of the fellows called him, I remember, "a silly old
bleached cockatoo," which so enraged his chauffeur that he bounded
out of his seat to take the part of his insulted master, and it was all we
could do to prevent a riot in the street.
These little things may seem trivial to relate, and passed as mere
incidents at the time. It is only now, as I look back, that I see their
relation to the whole story which I have to unfold.
The chauffeur must, as it seemed to me, have been a novice or else
have lost his nerve in this disturbance, for he drove vilely on the way to
the station. Twice we nearly had collisions with other equally erratic
vehicles, and I remember remarking to Summerlee that the standard of
driving in London had very much declined. Once we brushed the very

edge of a great crowd which was watching a fight at the corner of the
Mall. The people, who were much excited, raised cries of anger at the
clumsy driving, and one fellow sprang upon the step and waved a stick
above our heads. I pushed him off, but we were glad when we had got
clear of them and safe out of the park. These little events, coming one
after the other, left me very jangled in my nerves, and I could see from
my companion's petulant manner that his own patience had got to a low
ebb.
But our good humour was restored when we saw Lord John Roxton
waiting for us upon the platform, his tall, thin figure clad in a yellow
tweed shooting-suit. His keen face, with those unforgettable eyes, so
fierce and yet so humorous, flushed with pleasure at the sight of us. His
ruddy hair was shot with grey, and the furrows upon his brow had been
cut a little deeper by Time's chisel, but in all else he was the Lord John
who had been our good comrade in the past.
"Hullo, Herr Professor! Hullo, young fella!" he shouted as he came
toward us.
He roared with amusement when he saw the oxygen cylinders upon the
porter's trolly behind us. "So you've got them too!" he cried. "Mine is in
the van. Whatever can the old dear be after?"
"Have you seen his letter in the Times?" I asked.
"What was it?"
"Stuff and nonsense!" said Summerlee Harshly.
"Well, it's at the bottom of this oxygen business, or I am mistaken,"
said I.
"Stuff and nonsense!" cried Summerlee again with quite unnecessary
violence. We had all got into a first-class smoker, and he had already lit
the short and charred old briar pipe which seemed to singe the end of
his long, aggressive nose.

"Friend Challenger is a clever man," said he with great vehemence.
"No one can deny it. It's a fool that denies it. Look at his hat. There's a
sixty-ounce brain inside it--a big engine, running smooth, and turning
out clean work. Show me the engine-house and I'll tell you the size of
the engine. But he is a born charlatan--you've heard me tell him so to
his face--a born charlatan, with a kind of dramatic trick of jumping into
the limelight. Things are quiet, so friend Challenger sees a chance to set
the public talking about him. You don't imagine that he seriously
believes all this nonsense about a change in the ether and