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Who
would
imagine
it
as
the
terrible
Golgotha
strewn
with
the
bodies
of
the
human
race
?
Suddenly
,
I
find
myself
laughing
.
"
Halloa
,
young
fellah
!
"
says
Lord
John
,
staring
at
me
in
surprise
.
"
We
could
do
with
a
joke
in
these
hard
times
.
What
was
it
,
then
?
"
"
I
was
thinking
of
all
the
great
unsolved
questions
,
"
I
answer
,
"
the
questions
that
we
spent
so
much
labor
and
thought
over
.
Think
of
Anglo
-
German
competition
,
for
example
—
or
the
Persian
Gulf
that
my
old
chief
was
so
keen
about
.
Whoever
would
have
guessed
,
when
we
fumed
and
fretted
so
,
how
they
were
to
be
eventually
solved
?
"
We
fall
into
silence
again
.
I
fancy
that
each
of
us
is
thinking
of
friends
that
have
gone
before
.
Mrs
.
Challenger
is
sobbing
quietly
,
and
her
husband
is
whispering
to
her
.
My
mind
turns
to
all
the
most
unlikely
people
,
and
I
see
each
of
them
lying
white
and
rigid
as
poor
Austin
does
in
the
yard
.
There
is
McArdle
,
for
example
,
I
know
exactly
where
he
is
,
with
his
face
upon
his
writing
desk
and
his
hand
on
his
own
telephone
,
just
as
I
heard
him
fall
.
Beaumont
,
the
editor
,
too
—
I
suppose
he
is
lying
upon
the
blue
-
and
-
red
Turkey
carpet
which
adorned
his
sanctum
.
And
the
fellows
in
the
reporters
’
room
—
Macdona
and
Murray
and
Bond
.
They
had
certainly
died
hard
at
work
on
their
job
,
with
note
-
books
full
of
vivid
impressions
and
strange
happenings
in
their
hands
.
I
could
just
imagine
how
this
one
would
have
been
packed
off
to
the
doctors
,
and
that
other
to
Westminster
,
and
yet
a
third
to
St
.
Paul
’
s
.
What
glorious
rows
of
head
-
lines
they
must
have
seen
as
a
last
vision
beautiful
,
never
destined
to
materialize
in
printer
’
s
ink
!
I
could
see
Macdona
among
the
doctors
—
"
Hope
in
Harley
Street
"
—
Mac
had
always
a
weakness
for
alliteration
.
"
Interview
with
Mr
.
Soley
Wilson
.
"
"
Famous
Specialist
says
’
Never
despair
!
’
"
"
Our
Special
Correspondent
found
the
eminent
scientist
seated
upon
the
roof
,
whither
he
had
retreated
to
avoid
the
crowd
of
terrified
patients
who
had
stormed
his
dwelling
.
With
a
manner
which
plainly
showed
his
appreciation
of
the
immense
gravity
of
the
occasion
,
the
celebrated
physician
refused
to
admit
that
every
avenue
of
hope
had
been
closed
.
"
That
’
s
how
Mac
would
start
.
Then
there
was
Bond
;
he
would
probably
do
St
.
Paul
’
s
.
He
fancied
his
own
literary
touch
.
My
word
,
what
a
theme
for
him
!
"
Standing
in
the
little
gallery
under
the
dome
and
looking
down
upon
that
packed
mass
of
despairing
humanity
,
groveling
at
this
last
instant
before
a
Power
which
they
had
so
persistently
ignored
,
there
rose
to
my
ears
from
the
swaying
crowd
such
a
low
moan
of
entreaty
and
terror
,
such
a
shuddering
cry
for
help
to
the
Unknown
,
that
—
—
"
and
so
forth
.
Yes
,
it
would
be
a
great
end
for
a
reporter
,
though
,
like
myself
,
he
would
die
with
the
treasures
still
unused
.
What
would
Bond
not
give
,
poor
chap
,
to
see
"
J
.
H
.
B
.
"
at
the
foot
of
a
column
like
that
?
But
what
drivel
I
am
writing
!
It
is
just
an
attempt
to
pass
the
weary
time
.
Mrs
.
Challenger
has
gone
to
the
inner
dressing
-
room
,
and
the
Professor
says
that
she
is
asleep
.
He
is
making
notes
and
consulting
books
at
the
central
table
,
as
calmly
as
if
years
of
placid
work
lay
before
him
.
He
writes
with
a
very
noisy
quill
pen
which
seems
to
be
screeching
scorn
at
all
who
disagree
with
him
.
Summerlee
has
dropped
off
in
his
chair
and
gives
from
time
to
time
a
peculiarly
exasperating
snore
.
Lord
John
lies
back
with
his
hands
in
his
pockets
and
his
eyes
closed
.
How
people
can
sleep
under
such
conditions
is
more
than
I
can
imagine
.
Three
-
thirty
a
.
m
.
I
have
just
wakened
with
a
start
.
It
was
five
minutes
past
eleven
when
I
made
my
last
entry
.
I
remember
winding
up
my
watch
and
noting
the
time
.
So
I
have
wasted
some
five
hours
of
the
little
span
still
left
to
us
.
Who
would
have
believed
it
possible
?
But
I
feel
very
much
fresher
,
and
ready
for
my
fate
—
or
try
to
persuade
myself
that
I
am
.
And
yet
,
the
fitter
a
man
is
,
and
the
higher
his
tide
of
life
,
the
more
must
he
shrink
from
death
.
How
wise
and
how
merciful
is
that
provision
of
nature
by
which
his
earthly
anchor
is
usually
loosened
by
many
little
imperceptible
tugs
,
until
his
consciousness
has
drifted
out
of
its
untenable
earthly
harbor
into
the
great
sea
beyond
!
