I had always liked McArdle, the grumpy old news editor with the round back and red hair. I hoped he liked me too.
Of course, Beaumont was the real boss. But he lived so far above the rest of us that he seemed to notice only international crises and government scandals.
We sometimes saw him walking silently toward his private office, staring into space as if his mind were somewhere in the Balkans or the Persian Gulf.
He was completely out of our world.
McArdle, however, was his right-hand man, and he was the one we actually dealt with.
The old editor looked up when I walked in. He pushed his glasses onto his bald forehead.
“Well, Mr. Malone. From what I’ve heard, you’re doing very well.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“That colliery explosion was excellent. And the Southwark fire was very good too. You have a real talent for describing things.”
He leaned back in his chair.
“What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to ask you for a favor.”
He immediately looked nervous.
“Oh, dear. What is it?”
“Could you send me out on an assignment for the paper?”
“What kind of assignment?”
“Something dangerous. Something adventurous.”
I smiled.
“I’d like to prove myself. The more difficult it is, the better.”
McArdle stared at me.
“You seem rather eager to get yourself killed.”
“I’d rather do something that makes my life worthwhile.”
“That’s a very noble ambition, Mr. Malone. But I’m afraid that kind of journalism is disappearing.”
He sighed.
“Special assignments cost money. And when we do send someone, it usually has to be an experienced reporter with a name people trust.”
He waved a hand toward the window.
“Besides, the world is changing. The blank spaces on the map are disappearing. There aren’t many places left for adventure.”
Then suddenly his expression changed.
“Wait a minute.”
He smiled.
“Talking about blank spaces gives me an idea.”
I waited.
“What if you exposed a fraud? Some modern-day Munchausen who tells incredible stories and expects everyone to believe him?”
He leaned forward.
“You could prove he’s a liar and make him look ridiculous. That would make a fine story.”
“Anywhere. Anything. I’m willing to try.”
McArdle became thoughtful.
“I wonder if you could actually get close to the man.”
“Who?”
“Professor Challenger, of Enmore Park.”
I must have looked surprised.
“Challenger?”
I sat up.
“Professor Challenger? The famous zoologist?”
“The very same.”
“Wasn’t he the man who broke Blundell’s skull?”
McArdle gave me a grim smile.
“From the Telegraph?”
“Yes.”
“Do you mind? You said you wanted adventure.”
“It’s part of the job, sir.”
“Exactly.”
He shrugged.
“I doubt he’s violent all the time. Blundell may simply have approached him at the wrong moment—or in the wrong way.”
He studied me.
“You might have better luck. You’ve got a way of getting people to talk to you. Maybe it’s charm, maybe it’s confidence, maybe it’s just being young.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“So why not try Professor Challenger?”
“I don’t know much about him.”
“I’ve been watching him for a while.”
McArdle opened a drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper.
“I made some notes for you.”
He handed it to me.
“George Edward Challenger. Born in Largs, Scotland, in 1863. Educated at Largs Academy and Edinburgh University.”
He glanced down the page.
“He worked at the British Museum in 1892 and became assistant keeper of the Comparative Anthropology Department the following year.”
“Then he resigned after a rather nasty argument with the museum.”
McArdle continued.
“He’s won the Crayston Medal for zoological research and belongs to a long list of scientific organizations. He’s also been president of the Palaeontological Society.”
He handed me the paper.
“He’s written several scientific books and papers, including one attacking some of Weissmann’s ideas about evolution.”
McArdle smiled.
“He’s also fond of walking and climbing mountains.”
“Where does he live?”
“Enmore Park, Kensington.”
I folded the paper and put it in my pocket.
“Is that everything?”
“That’s all I’ve got for tonight.”
I was about to leave when I stopped.
“One moment, sir.”
He looked up.
“I still don’t understand why I’m supposed to interview him. What exactly has he done?”
McArdle’s expression became serious.
“Two years ago, Challenger went alone to South America.”
“And?”
“He came back last year.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that nobody knows exactly where he went.”
He shook his head.
“He started telling people about his adventures, but his story sounded unbelievable. Then other scientists began questioning him.”
“What did he do?”
“He stopped talking.”
McArdle tapped the paper.
“Either he discovered something extraordinary, or he’s one of the biggest liars alive.”
“And the photographs?”
“Damaged photographs. Challenger claimed they proved his story. Other people said they were fake.”
He sighed.
“Then reporters started asking questions. Challenger became furious.”
“How furious?”
“He attacks people who annoy him. Apparently he’s even thrown reporters down the stairs.”
McArdle leaned back.
“My opinion? He’s a dangerous egomaniac who happens to know a great deal about science.”
He smiled.
“That’s your assignment, Mr. Malone.”
He waved me toward the door.
“Go and see what you can get from him. You’re big enough to defend yourself.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“Don’t worry. You’re covered by the Employers’ Liability Act.”
That was clearly his way of saying the conversation was over.
I left the office.
Instead of going straight into the Savage Club, I stopped outside and leaned against the railings of Adelphi Terrace.
Below me, the river looked dark and oily under the night sky.
I think better when I’m outside.
I took out McArdle’s notes and read them again beneath the streetlamp.
Then an idea occurred to me.
There was no point approaching Challenger as a reporter. If the stories were true, he hated reporters and would probably throw me out before I could ask a single question.
But there was something else in his background.
Science.
The notes mentioned that he had repeatedly fought with other scientists over scientific theories.
That meant he was passionate about his work.
Perhaps I could reach him through that.
I decided to try.
I went into the club.
It was just after eleven. The main room was already fairly busy, although the real crowd had not yet arrived.
Then I noticed a tall, thin man sitting beside the fireplace.
I knew him.
It was Tarp Henry from Nature magazine.
He looked dry and serious, but anyone who knew him understood that he was actually a kind man.
I pulled up a chair.
“What do you know about Professor Challenger?”
His eyebrows rose immediately.
“Challenger?”
He looked at me as if I’d mentioned something unpleasant.
“He’s the fellow who came back from South America with some ridiculous story.”
“What story?”
“Something about strange animals he’d supposedly discovered.”
He shrugged.
“I think he later withdrew the whole thing.”
“Why?”
“Because people started questioning him.”
He laughed.
“He gave an interview to Reuters. The scientific community attacked him so badly that he realized he couldn’t defend the story.”
“What happened after that?”
“He stopped talking about it.”
“Completely?”
“Almost.”
Tarp Henry shook his head.
“He was so rude and impossible that most people simply gave up trying to deal with him.”
“Can you give me an example?”
“Certainly.”
He smiled.
“The president of the Zoological Institute once sent him a polite invitation.”
“What did it say?”
“Something like, ‘The President of the Zoological Institute sends his compliments and would be honored if Professor Challenger would attend the next meeting.'”
“And Challenger’s reply?”
Tarp Henry grinned.
“It wasn’t exactly suitable for publication.”
“What did he say?”
“A polite version would be: ‘Professor Challenger sends his compliments and would be honored if the President of the Zoological Institute would go to hell.'”
I stared at him.
“Good Lord.”
“Yes. I imagine that’s exactly how the president felt.”
Tarp Henry shook his head.
“I remember the old man’s speech afterward. He began by saying that in fifty years of scientific work, he’d never experienced anything like it.”
“Was there anything else?”
“Probably.”
He paused.
“But I’m a bacteriologist. I spend most of my life looking through a microscope. I’m not really qualified to judge people like Challenger.”
“Yet you’ve heard things about him?”
“Of course.”
He leaned closer.
“Everyone in science has heard of Challenger. He’s impossible to ignore.”
“Is he really that clever?”
“Extremely.”
“And the bad reputation?”
“Deserved.”
He counted the points on his fingers.
“He’s powerful, energetic, argumentative, arrogant, and sometimes completely unreasonable.”
“And dishonest?”
“That’s the serious accusation.”
“What do you mean?”
“They say he went so far as to fake photographs connected with his South American expedition.”
“Interesting.”
“He’s also obsessed with scientific theories.”
“Which one?”
“His latest obsession concerns Weissmann and evolution.”
“What’s his argument?”
“I can’t explain it properly from memory.”
Tarp Henry thought for a moment.
“But the proceedings from the Vienna meeting are filed at our office.”
“Could I see them?”
“Certainly.”
“Would you mind taking me there now?”
“Not at all.”
“I have to interview Challenger, and I need something to talk to him about.”
Tarp Henry smiled.
“Then you’d better learn something about his arguments first.”
Half an hour later, I was sitting in the newspaper office with an enormous scientific volume open in front of me.
The page was headed:
“Weissmann versus Darwin.”
Underneath it was another title:
“Stormy Debate in Vienna.”
I tried to read it.
I really did.
Unfortunately, my scientific education had never been very impressive.
After several pages, I understood almost nothing.
One thing was obvious, though.
Professor Challenger had attacked his opponents with extraordinary confidence.
The page was full of phrases like “protests,” “uproar,” and “appeal to the chairman.”
The rest might as well have been written in Chinese.
I looked helplessly at Tarp Henry.
“Could you explain this in ordinary English?”
He stared at me.
“It already is English.”
“Then I’m afraid I need something even simpler.”
He laughed.
“It is rather advanced for someone who isn’t a scientist.”
“All I need is one sentence.”
“One sentence?”
“Yes. Something that contains an actual human idea.”
I turned the pages.
Then I found one.
“Wait. This one.”
I pointed to a sentence.
“I think I almost understand it.”
Tarp Henry looked amused.
“I’m going to copy it down.”
“Why?”
“This is going to be my way into Challenger’s world.”
I wrote down the sentence carefully.
Then another idea came to me.
“I think I’ll write to him.”
Tarp Henry looked alarmed.
“Write to him?”
“Yes. If I can get him interested in this argument, perhaps he’ll agree to meet me.”
“You’ll be putting your own life in danger.”
“I’d rather do that than give up.”
I picked up a sheet of paper.
“If I write the letter here and use your office address, it will look more respectable.”
Tarp Henry groaned.
“Fine. But if he comes here and starts smashing furniture, don’t blame me.”
“I promise he won’t.”
“You haven’t met the man.”
“I’ll show you the letter before I send it.”
“Good. That’s my desk and my paper. At least let me see what you’ve written.”
I sat down and began composing the letter.
It took some time.
When I finished, I read it aloud.
“Dear Professor Challenger.”
I continued.
“I have always taken a great interest in your views concerning Darwin and Weissmann.”
Tarp Henry immediately interrupted.
“You liar.”
I ignored him.
“I recently had the opportunity to review your famous address in Vienna.”
Tarp Henry shook his head.
“Very impressive.”
I continued.
“I found your argument particularly clear and convincing.”
He stared at me.
“You’ve understood almost none of it.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
I read on.
“However, one particular statement caught my attention. In light of more recent research, do you still hold the same opinion?”
Tarp Henry listened more carefully now.
“I would be grateful for the opportunity to discuss this question with you personally. I believe I have several observations that may be of interest.”
I paused.
“With your permission, I would like to visit you at eleven o’clock on Wednesday morning.”
I finished the letter with a respectful closing and signed my name.
I looked at Tarp Henry proudly.
“Well?”
He sighed.
“If your conscience can survive that letter, I suppose it’s all right.”
“My conscience has survived worse.”
“But what exactly are you planning to do when you get there?”
“Get inside first.”
“And then?”
“Once I’m in his room, I’ll look for an opportunity to explain the truth.”
“What truth?”
“That I’m really a reporter.”
I smiled.
“If he’s a good sport, he’ll find the whole thing amusing.”
Tarp Henry burst out laughing.
“Amusing?”
“Yes.”
“Challenger is much more likely to find you amusing while he’s throwing you across the room.”
I laughed.
“Perhaps I’ll need some armor.”
“More than armor. You might want chain mail.”
He shook his head.
“Or an American football uniform.”
“You’re very encouraging.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
He gathered the papers.
“Anyway, I’ll have his reply waiting here on Wednesday morning—assuming he bothers to answer you.”
He looked at me seriously.
“Challenger is violent, dangerous, rude, and hated by almost everyone who has ever dealt with him.”
“And the students?”
“They make jokes about him whenever they dare.”
Tarp Henry paused.
“Perhaps the safest thing for you would be if Professor Challenger never answered that letter at all.”