I want to begin by recording our deep gratitude to all the friends we met along the Amazon during our journey home. They treated us with extraordinary kindness and hospitality.
I especially want to thank Senhor Penalosa and the other officials of the Brazilian Government. They made special arrangements to help us travel safely. I am also deeply grateful to Senhor Pereira of Para, who had thoughtfully prepared everything we needed to look respectable again in civilized society.
It may seem ungrateful that we repaid such kindness by misleading our hosts, but we truly had no choice. I must therefore warn them that any attempt to follow our trail will be a waste of time and money. We even changed the names of places in our reports. No matter how carefully anyone studies our accounts, they will not come within a thousand miles of the real location of our lost land.
We had assumed that the excitement caused by our return was limited to the regions of South America through which we passed.
We were completely wrong.
We had no idea that rumors of our adventures had created such a sensation throughout Europe. It was only when the Ivernia was about five hundred miles from Southampton that we began receiving wireless messages from newspapers and news agencies.
They offered enormous sums for even a brief message telling them what we had actually discovered.
Clearly, the scientific world was desperate to know the truth.
So was the general public.
But the four of us had already agreed that we would say nothing to the press until we had met the members of the Zoological Institute. We had been sent out by that organization, so it was our duty to report our findings to them first.
When we reached Southampton, reporters were everywhere.
They surrounded us with questions.
We refused to answer any of them.
Naturally, this only made people even more curious.
A great meeting had been announced for the evening of November 7. The original meeting hall of the Zoological Institute, where our expedition had first been proposed, was far too small for the crowds now expected. In the end, the Queen’s Hall in Regent Street was chosen.
Looking back, even the Albert Hall might not have been large enough.
The great meeting was scheduled for our second evening back in England.
During our first day, each of us had private matters to deal with.
I cannot yet speak much about my own affairs. Perhaps, as time passes, I will be able to think about them and write about them without so much emotion.
At the beginning of this story, I explained what had driven me to join the expedition.
It is only fair that I should now tell the reader what happened as a result.
Perhaps, despite everything, I would not change the past.
After all, I had been pushed into taking part in the most extraordinary adventure of my life.
For that, I could only be grateful.
And now I come to the final great event of our journey.
I was wondering how best to describe that remarkable evening when I happened to find the morning edition of my own newspaper. It contained a long report by my friend and fellow journalist, Macdona.
What better way could there be to tell the story than to let Macdona tell it himself?
He had certainly written it in the usual newspaper style, with plenty of excitement and dramatic language.
But the other major newspapers had been almost as enthusiastic.
This was his report:
THE GREAT RETURN OF THE LOST WORLD EXPEDITION
A NIGHT OF CHAOS AND WONDER
WHAT REALLY HAPPENED?
A GREAT CROWD TAKES OVER REGENT STREET
(Special Report)
The long-awaited meeting of the Zoological Institute was held last night at the Queen’s Hall.
The purpose of the meeting was to hear the report of the committee that had traveled to South America the previous year to investigate Professor Challenger’s extraordinary claim that prehistoric animals were still alive on that continent.
The meeting will almost certainly become one of the most memorable events in the history of science.
The proceedings were so astonishing that no one who attended will ever forget them.
Tickets were officially limited to members of the Institute and their friends.
But the word “friends” was interpreted rather generously.
Long before eight o’clock, every part of the huge hall was packed.
Members of the general public, angry that they had been excluded, began forcing their way through the doors shortly before the meeting began.
A violent struggle followed.
Several people were injured, including Inspector Scoble of H Division, who unfortunately suffered a broken leg.
Eventually the crowd forced its way inside.
People filled every corridor and even occupied the area reserved for the press.
It was estimated that nearly five thousand people were waiting for the explorers to appear.
When the four travelers finally entered, they took their places at the front of the platform.
Behind them sat some of the most famous scientists from Britain, France, and Germany.
Sweden was represented by Professor Sergius, the distinguished zoologist from the University of Uppsala.
The arrival of the four explorers caused an extraordinary reaction.
The entire audience rose to its feet.
For several minutes, the hall shook with applause and cheering.
Yet a careful observer could already see signs of disagreement among the audience.
Some people were clearly not convinced.
No one, however, could have guessed what was about to happen.
The four explorers showed surprisingly little sign of the hardships they had endured.
Professor Challenger’s beard was even wilder than before.
Professor Summerlee looked thinner and more severe.
Lord John Roxton was leaner.
All three were darker from the tropical sun.
But they appeared to be in excellent health.
As for our own representative, E. D. Malone, the well-known athlete and international Rugby player, he looked as fit as ever.
As he looked over the crowd, his honest, ordinary face wore a cheerful smile.
When the applause finally died down, everyone took their seats.
The chairman, the Duke of Durham, rose to speak.
He said he would not waste time standing between the audience and the report they had come to hear.
He did not want to reveal what Professor Summerlee, the committee’s spokesman, would tell them.
But rumors suggested that the expedition had achieved extraordinary success.
The audience applauded.
The chairman continued.
“Perhaps the age of adventure is not dead after all. It seems that the wildest dreams of novelists can sometimes become scientific reality.”
He went on to say that everyone was thankful the four explorers had returned safely.
An expedition of this kind involved enormous danger, and the loss of even one member would have been a serious blow to zoological science.
The audience applauded again.
Even Professor Challenger joined in.
Then Professor Summerlee stood up.
The response was almost as enthusiastic as it had been when the explorers first entered.
The newspaper did not print his entire speech, because a full account of the expedition was already being prepared for publication.
But the general story was this.
Summerlee described how the expedition had begun.
He praised Professor Challenger and openly admitted that the scientific community had been wrong to doubt his earlier claims.
He then explained the general route of their journey, carefully avoiding any information that might help people locate the mysterious plateau.
He described their journey up the great river and their arrival at the foot of the cliffs.
He told the audience about their repeated and desperate attempts to climb them.
He explained how they finally succeeded, though two of their loyal mixed-race servants lost their lives.
Then he described the extraordinary land at the top of the cliffs.
He spoke less about their personal adventures and concentrated instead on what they had learned about the animals, birds, insects, and plants of the plateau.
The insects alone had produced an astonishing scientific harvest.
They had collected forty-six new species of beetles and ninety-four new species of butterflies and moths within only a few weeks.
But the public was far more interested in the larger creatures.
Summerlee described a long list of animals that were believed to have been extinct for millions of years.
He was convinced that many more would be discovered once the plateau had been properly explored.
The four explorers had also seen at least twelve creatures that matched nothing known to modern science.
Most had been seen only from a distance.
He mentioned a giant snake whose shed skin measured fifty-one feet.
He described a strange white animal that appeared to glow in the darkness.
He also mentioned a large black moth whose bite the Indians believed was deadly.
But even these unknown creatures were not the greatest surprise.
The plateau was filled with animals that modern science believed had disappeared long ago.
Among them was the enormous stegosaurus.
Malone had seen one drinking near the lake, and an earlier explorer had drawn another in his notebook.
Summerlee described the iguanodons and pterodactyls, two of the first prehistoric creatures the expedition had encountered.
He then spoke about the great meat-eating dinosaurs.
Several of them had chased members of the expedition, and they were among the most dangerous creatures on the plateau.
He described the enormous phororachus, the giant flightless bird, and the huge elk that still wandered across the highlands.
But when he reached the central lake, the audience became completely fascinated.
It was almost impossible to believe that this calm and sensible scientist was seriously describing three-eyed fish-lizards and enormous water snakes living beneath the surface of the lake.
He then spoke about the Indians and the strange ape-like people who lived on the plateau.
The latter, he suggested, might represent an evolutionary stage beyond the Java ape known as Pithecanthropus and could possibly come closer than any known creature to the mysterious “missing link.”
Finally, he described Professor Challenger’s remarkable balloon experiment, which had been both ingenious and extremely dangerous.
He ended his speech by explaining how the four explorers had finally escaped from the plateau and returned to civilization.
Everyone expected the meeting to end there.
Professor Sergius of Uppsala was prepared to propose a formal vote of thanks.
But then something went wrong.
Opposition had been growing throughout the evening.
Now Dr. James Illingworth of Edinburgh stood up in the middle of the hall.
He asked whether an amendment should be considered before the proposed vote of thanks.
“Yes, sir, if there is an amendment,” said the chairman.
“There must be an amendment, Your Grace,” Illingworth replied.
“Then let us hear it.”
Professor Summerlee suddenly jumped to his feet.
“Your Grace, may I point out that this man has been my personal enemy ever since our argument in the Quarterly Journal of Science over the true nature of Bathybius?”
“I cannot deal with personal disputes tonight,” the chairman replied. “Please continue.”
Illingworth was difficult to hear because the explorers’ supporters were shouting him down.
Several people even tried to drag him from the platform.
But he was a huge man with a powerful voice, and he managed to force his way through the noise and finish his speech.
It was obvious that he had many supporters in the hall, although they were still a minority.
Most of the audience seemed simply curious to hear what he had to say.
Illingworth began by saying that he greatly respected both Professor Challenger and Professor Summerlee as scientists.
He insisted that his objections had nothing to do with personal feelings.
His only concern was scientific truth.
Then he made his argument.
At the previous meeting, Professor Challenger had made extraordinary claims.
Professor Summerlee had challenged those claims.
Now Summerlee himself had returned from South America making essentially the same claims.
Was the audience really supposed to accept them without question?
A year ago, one man had made incredible statements.
Now four men were making even more incredible statements.
Illingworth asked whether that was enough to establish them as scientific fact.
He reminded the audience that travelers had returned from unexplored regions in the past with fantastic stories that later proved false.
Should the Zoological Institute risk embarrassing itself in the same way?
He admitted that the four members of the committee were respectable men.
But, he argued, respectable men were still human.
Even scientists could be influenced by the desire for fame.
Everyone wanted attention.
Hunters liked to tell stories that were more impressive than those of their rivals.
Journalists loved sensational discoveries.
Perhaps, he suggested, the expedition members had allowed imagination to fill in the gaps between what they had actually seen and what they wanted to believe.
The audience shouted angrily.
“Shame!”
Illingworth held up his hands.
“I am not trying to insult anyone.”
“Yes, you are!” someone shouted.
He continued.
The actual evidence for the expedition’s claims was extremely weak.
There were some photographs.
But could photographs really be trusted in an age when pictures could be manipulated?
There was also the story of their escape by balloon and ropes.
It was clever, certainly.
But it had prevented them from bringing back large specimens.
And Lord John Roxton supposedly claimed to possess the skull of a phororachus.
Illingworth said he would like to see that skull.
Lord John Roxton immediately shouted from the platform.
“Is this fellow calling me a liar?”
The hall exploded.
“Order!” the chairman shouted.
“Order!”
He turned to Illingworth.
“Dr. Illingworth, please finish your remarks and move your amendment.”
“I have more to say, Your Grace, but I accept your ruling.”
He then formally proposed that Professor Summerlee should be thanked for his interesting report, but that the expedition’s claims should still be considered unproven and should be investigated by a larger and possibly more reliable committee.
Chaos broke out.
A large part of the audience reacted angrily.
“Don’t put it!”
“Withdraw!”
“Throw him out!”
But Illingworth’s supporters shouted back.
“Order!”
“Let him speak!”
“Fair play!”
A fight broke out in the back rows.
Medical students began punching one another.
The situation was rapidly becoming a riot.
Only the large number of women in the audience seemed to prevent things from becoming even worse.
Then suddenly everything stopped.
The hall became silent.
Professor Challenger was standing.
There was something about him that immediately commanded attention.
He raised one hand.
The audience quieted.
He began speaking.
“Many of you will remember that the last meeting at which I spoke was also ruined by foolish and badly behaved interruptions.
“On that occasion, Professor Summerlee was the chief offender.
“He has since admitted his mistake, but I have not forgotten it.
“Tonight I have heard even more insulting remarks from the gentleman who has just spoken.
“I shall now make the effort to descend to his level of understanding and remove whatever reasonable doubt might still exist in the minds of this audience.”
The audience laughed.
Challenger continued.
“You all know that Professor Summerlee was chosen to present the committee’s report tonight.
“But I was the person who originally began this entire investigation.
“I was the one who led these three gentlemen to the place I had described.
“And I was the one whose earlier claims they have now personally confirmed.
“We had hoped that our return would finally silence anyone who still doubted us.
“However, because I have learned from experience, I did not come here tonight without evidence.”
He explained that the ape-men had broken into their camp and damaged many of their photographic negatives.
The audience jeered and laughed.
Someone shouted:
“Tell us another!”
Challenger smiled.
“I mentioned the ape-men.
“I must admit that some of the noises I have heard tonight have brought back very pleasant memories of those fascinating creatures.”
More laughter followed.
“In spite of the destruction of many valuable photographs, we still have enough pictures to prove the general conditions of life on the plateau.
“Does anyone here seriously accuse us of forging those photographs?”
A voice shouted:
“Yes!”
The interruption became so violent that several men had to be removed from the hall.
Challenger waited until the noise died down.
“The negatives are available for examination by experts.
“But perhaps you ask what other evidence we possess.
“Because of the way we escaped, we could not bring back much luggage.
“However, we saved Professor Summerlee’s collections of butterflies and beetles.
“They contain many species unknown to science.
“Is that not evidence?”
Several voices shouted:
“No!”
“Who said no?” Challenger demanded.
Illingworth stood.
“Our point is simple. Such insects could have been collected somewhere other than a prehistoric plateau.”
There was applause.
Challenger gave him a cold look.
“Of course. We must all bow to your great scientific authority, although I confess your name is unfamiliar to me.
“Let us ignore the photographs and the insect collection.
“What about all the detailed information we have brought back about creatures whose behavior has never before been observed?
“For example, we can now tell you a great deal about the private life of the pterodactyl—”
“Bosh!” someone shouted.
The hall erupted again.
Challenger raised his voice.
“I say that we have learned a great deal about the domestic life of the pterodactyl.
“I have a photograph in my portfolio showing one of these creatures alive.
“It would surely convince you—”
“No photograph could convince us of anything!” Illingworth shouted.
“You want to see the actual creature?”
“Certainly.”
“And you would accept it as proof?”
“Without question.”
That was when the greatest surprise of the entire evening occurred.
Professor Challenger raised his hand.
It was a signal.
At once, I stood up and walked toward the rear of the platform.
A moment later I returned with Zambo.
Between us we carried a large square wooden packing case.
It was extremely heavy.
We slowly brought it forward and placed it in front of Professor Challenger.
The entire hall had gone silent.
Every person was staring at the box.
Challenger removed the top, which slid open like a lid.
He looked inside.
Then he snapped his fingers several times.
“Come here, pretty one,” he called softly. “Come on.”
A strange scratching and rattling sound came from inside.
Then something horrible climbed out and perched on the edge of the box.
Even the Duke of Durham falling into the orchestra at that exact moment could not distract anyone from the creature.
Its face looked like some monstrous gargoyle created by a mad medieval sculptor.
Two small red eyes burned like pieces of coal.
Its long mouth hung slightly open.
Inside were two rows of sharp teeth like those of a shark.
Its shoulders were hunched.
Around them hung what looked like an old gray shawl.
It looked like the devil from a child’s nightmare.
The audience exploded in terror.
Someone screamed.
Two women in the front row fainted.
Several people on the platform tried to escape after their chairman.
For a moment, it seemed that the entire hall might panic.
Challenger raised his hands, trying to calm everyone.
But the movement frightened the creature.
The gray “shawl” suddenly opened.
It was not a shawl at all.
It was a pair of leathery wings.
The creature spread them wide.
Challenger grabbed at its legs.
He was too late.
The pterodactyl jumped into the air.
Its enormous wings stretched nearly ten feet across.
It began circling the Queen’s Hall, beating the air with a dry, leathery sound.
At once, a terrible rotten smell spread through the room.
People in the upper galleries screamed as the creature flew close to them.
Its glowing eyes and sharp beak seemed even more terrifying at close range.
The noise drove it into a panic.
It flew faster and faster.
It crashed into walls.
It struck chandeliers.
It flapped wildly around the hall like a giant moth trapped indoors.
Challenger danced helplessly on the platform.
“The window!”
He shouted at the top of his voice.
“For heaven’s sake, close that window!”
But it was already too late.
The creature slammed against the wall, found the open window, squeezed its enormous body through it, and disappeared into the night.
Professor Challenger collapsed into his chair and covered his face with his hands.
The entire audience released one enormous sigh of relief.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then everything changed.
The excitement of those who supported us and the relief of those who had doubted us suddenly merged into one enormous wave of enthusiasm.
It began at the back of the hall.
It rolled forward.
It swept over the orchestra.
It swallowed the platform.
And before we knew what was happening, the four of us were being carried along by the crowd.
Every person seemed to be standing.
Everyone was shouting and waving.
A huge mass of cheering people surrounded us.
“Lift them up!”
“Up with them!”
Four hundred hands seemed to reach for us.
A moment later, the four of us were raised above the crowd.
We tried to escape.
There was no chance.
The people holding us had no intention of putting us down.
“Regent Street!”
“Regent Street!”
The crowd began moving toward the doors.
Outside, the scene was even more incredible.
At least one hundred thousand people had gathered in the streets.
The crowd stretched all the way from the Langham Hotel to Oxford Circus.
When the four of us appeared above the heads of the people, beneath the bright electric lights outside the hall, an enormous roar went up.
“A procession!”
“A procession!”
The crowd surged forward.
We were carried along Regent Street, then through Pall Mall, St. James’s Street, and Piccadilly.
Central London traffic came to a complete stop.
There were arguments and collisions between the demonstrators, the police, and the taxi drivers.
It was after midnight before we were finally released outside Lord John Roxton’s rooms at the Albany.
The crowd ended the celebration by singing “They Are Jolly Good Fellows.”
Then they sang “God Save the King.”
And that was how one of the strangest evenings London had seen in years finally came to an end.
So much for Macdona’s report.
It was certainly dramatic, but in its main details it was accurate.
For the audience, the appearance of the pterodactyl had been an overwhelming surprise.
For us, of course, it was not.
The reader will remember that I had already seen Lord John Roxton in his strange protective cage when he went to collect what he called the “Devil’s chick” for Professor Challenger.
I have also mentioned how difficult Challenger’s luggage had been during our escape from the plateau.
If I had described the journey in detail, I could have told you how much trouble we had taking care of our disgusting passenger.
The only reason I had not said much about it earlier was that Challenger was determined to keep our strongest evidence secret until the right moment.
He wanted to surprise his enemies when they were gathered together.
As for the London pterodactyl, nobody knows for certain what happened to it.
Two terrified women claimed that it landed on the roof of the Queen’s Hall and remained there for several hours, looking like some kind of demon carved from stone.
The next evening newspapers reported another strange incident.
Private Miles of the Coldstream Guards had been on duty outside Marlborough House.
He suddenly abandoned his post.
For doing so, he was court-martialed.
He explained that he had dropped his rifle and run down the Mall because he had looked up and seen what appeared to be the devil silhouetted against the moon.
The court did not believe him.
Still, perhaps they should have.
There was another piece of evidence.
The logbook of the Dutch-American liner Friesland recorded that at nine o’clock the next morning, with Start Point about ten miles away on the ship’s starboard side, the crew saw something flying at tremendous speed toward the southwest.
The sailors described it as something between a flying goat and a gigantic bat.
If the creature’s instincts had led it in the right direction, then somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean the last European pterodactyl probably met its end.
And then there was Gladys.
My Gladys.
The Gladys of the mysterious lake.
I had always suspected there was something hard beneath her beauty.
Even when I was proud to obey her wishes, some part of me had wondered whether it was fair for a woman to send a man she claimed to love into such terrible danger simply to satisfy her desire for adventure.
Had I ignored the signs because I was in love?
Had I refused to see the selfishness and changeability hidden behind her beautiful face?
Did she truly admire courage and adventure for their own sake?
Or did she love them because the glory would shine upon her without requiring her to make any sacrifice herself?
Perhaps these thoughts were only the bitter wisdom that comes after a painful disappointment.
Whatever the truth, the shock had been enormous.
For a while, it turned me into a complete cynic.
But a week has now passed.
Lord John Roxton and I have had an important conversation.
And perhaps my situation is not quite as hopeless as I first thought.
Let me explain.
When I arrived at Southampton, there had been no letter or telegram from Gladys.
That night, around ten o’clock, I reached the little villa in Streatham in a state of terrible anxiety.
Was she alive?
Had something happened to her?
I had spent so many nights imagining her welcoming me home with open arms, smiling proudly at the man who had risked his life because she had wanted him to become a hero.
Now all those dreams had disappeared.
I was back on ordinary ground.
Still, perhaps there was some explanation that could lift me back into the clouds.
I ran down the garden path.
I hammered on the door.
I heard Gladys’s voice inside.
Before the maid could stop me, I pushed past her and entered the sitting room.
Gladys was sitting on a low sofa beside the piano beneath a shaded lamp.
I crossed the room in three steps and seized both her hands.
“Gladys!” I cried.
“Gladys!”
She looked up at me in complete surprise.
Something about her seemed different.
Her eyes had changed.
There was a harder look in them.
Her lips were set in a way I had never seen before.
She pulled her hands away.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Gladys!”
I stared at her.
“What is wrong? You’re my Gladys, aren’t you? Little Gladys Hungerton?”
“No,” she said calmly.
“I’m Gladys Potts.”
Then she turned toward the little man sitting in a large armchair.
“Let me introduce you to my husband.”
For a moment I could hardly believe what I was hearing.
Life can be unbelievably ridiculous.
I mechanically walked over and shook hands with my successful rival.
He was a small, red-haired man sitting awkwardly in the armchair that had once been my favorite place.
We stared at each other and exchanged foolish smiles.
“Father is letting us stay here while our house is being prepared,” Gladys explained.
“Oh,” I said.
“You didn’t receive my letter in Para?”
“No. I never got one.”
“Oh, what a shame! It would have explained everything.”
“I think everything is quite clear.”
“I’ve told William all about you,” she said. “We don’t keep secrets from each other.
“I’m very sorry about what happened.
“But your feelings couldn’t have been all that serious, could they?
“After all, you were able to go to the other side of the world and leave me here.”
She looked at me.
“You’re not angry with me, are you?”
“No. Not at all.”
I forced a smile.
“I think I’d better leave.”
Her husband spoke up.
“Would you like something to eat or drink?”
Then he leaned toward me confidentially.
“It’s always like this, isn’t it?
“I mean, unless you believe in polygamy.
“Only, of course, the situation would be reversed.”
He laughed at his own joke.
I headed for the door.
I had almost reached it when a strange impulse made me turn around.
I went back to the little man who had somehow won the woman I had once dreamed of marrying.
He nervously glanced at the electric bell beside him.
“Can I ask you one question?” I said.
“Within reason,” he replied.
“How did you do it?”
He stared at me.
“Did you find buried treasure?
“Discover the North Pole?
“Spend years fighting pirates?
“Fly across the English Channel?
“What was your great adventure?
“Where did you find the romance?”
He looked completely lost.
His face was small, ordinary, and good-natured.
“Don’t you think that’s a little too personal?” he asked.
“Just one more question,” I said.
“What do you do?”
“I’m a solicitor’s clerk.”
He paused.
“Second clerk at Johnson and Merivale’s, 41 Chancery Lane.”
“Good night.”
I left.
Like every disappointed hero in a story, I disappeared into the darkness carrying a ridiculous mixture of anger, grief, and laughter inside me.
There is only one more scene to tell.
Last night, the four of us had dinner at Lord John Roxton’s rooms.
Afterward we sat together, smoking and talking about our adventures.
It was strange to see those familiar faces again in such completely different surroundings.
There was Challenger, wearing his usual superior smile.
His heavy eyelids drooped over his impatient eyes.
His enormous beard gave him an even more aggressive appearance.
His huge chest rose and fell as he confidently explained his theories to Summerlee.
Summerlee sat opposite him, smoking his short pipe between his thin mustache and gray pointed beard.
His tired face leaned forward whenever he disagreed with Challenger.
And there was our host, Lord John Roxton.
His face was rugged and sharp like an eagle’s.
His blue eyes were cold and clear, but deep inside them there was always a hint of humor and mischief.
That is the final picture I have of my three companions.
Later that evening, in Roxton’s private room, surrounded by its strange pink light and countless trophies, he told us that he had something to show us.
He opened a cupboard and took out an old cigar box.
He placed it on the table.
“There is something I probably should have mentioned earlier,” he said.
“But I wanted to be sure of the facts.
“There’s no point in raising someone’s hopes and then disappointing him.
“This time, though, we’re dealing with facts.”
He looked at us.
“Do you remember the day we found the pterodactyl nesting ground in the swamp?”
The two professors nodded.
“Well, something about the ground there caught my attention.
“It may have escaped you, so I’ll explain.
“There was a volcanic opening there, and the clay around it was blue.”
The professors nodded again.
“Now, I’ve only ever seen one other volcanic opening with blue clay.
“That was at the great De Beers diamond mine in Kimberley.
“So naturally, diamonds came into my mind.
“I built that ridiculous protective cage so the pterodactyls couldn’t get at me.
“Then I spent a very pleasant day digging around with a small shovel.
“This is what I found.”
He opened the cigar box.
Then he turned it upside down over the table.
About twenty or thirty rough stones rolled out.
Some were as small as beans.
Others were nearly the size of chestnuts.
“You may wonder why I didn’t tell you about them immediately.
“I probably should have.
“But there are plenty of traps for people who know nothing about diamonds.
“A stone can be large and still be nearly worthless if the color and structure are poor.
“So I brought them home.
“On my first day back, I took one to Spink’s and asked him to have it roughly cut and valued.”
He reached into his pocket and took out a small pill box.
Then he opened it.
A magnificent diamond fell into his palm.
It was one of the finest stones I had ever seen.
“That’s the result,” Roxton said.
“Spink estimates the whole collection is worth at least two hundred thousand pounds.
“And naturally, we’ll divide it equally.
“I won’t accept anything else.”
He looked at Challenger.
“So, Challenger, what will you do with your fifty thousand?”
“If you insist upon dividing it equally,” Challenger replied, “I shall use the money to establish a private museum.
“It has been one of my ambitions for many years.”
Roxton turned to Summerlee.
“And you?”
“I shall retire from teaching,” Summerlee said.
“That will give me enough time to finish my final classification of the chalk fossils.”
Roxton nodded.
“And you?”
He pointed to himself.
“As for me, I’ll spend my share preparing a proper expedition.
“And then I’ll go back and visit that wonderful plateau again.”
He looked at me.
“And you, young fellow?
“You’re obviously going to spend your money on getting married.”
I gave him a sad smile.
“Not yet.
“If you’ll have me, I’d rather go with you.”
Roxton did not answer.
He simply reached across the table and held out his hand.
I took it.
It was a strong, warm handshake between two men who had been through the impossible together.