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- Артур Конан Дойл
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- Стр. 5/67
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"
Well
,
it
’
s
a
long
cry
from
a
blurred
line
in
a
spectrum
to
a
sick
nigger
in
Sumatra
.
And
yet
the
chiel
has
shown
us
once
before
that
he
knows
what
he
’
s
talking
about
.
There
is
some
queer
illness
down
yonder
,
that
’
s
beyond
all
doubt
,
and
to
-
day
there
’
s
a
cable
just
come
in
from
Singapore
that
the
lighthouses
are
out
of
action
in
the
Straits
of
Sundan
,
and
two
ships
on
the
beach
in
consequence
.
Anyhow
,
it
’
s
good
enough
for
you
to
interview
Challenger
upon
.
If
you
get
anything
definite
,
let
us
have
a
column
by
Monday
.
"
I
was
coming
out
from
the
news
editor
’
s
room
,
turning
over
my
new
mission
in
my
mind
,
when
I
heard
my
name
called
from
the
waiting
-
room
below
.
It
was
a
telegraph
-
boy
with
a
wire
which
had
been
forwarded
from
my
lodgings
at
Streatham
.
The
message
was
from
the
very
man
we
had
been
discussing
,
and
ran
thus
:
—
Malone
,
17
,
Hill
Street
,
Streatham
.
—
Bring
oxygen
.
—
Challenger
.
"
Bring
oxygen
!
"
The
Professor
,
as
I
remembered
him
,
had
an
elephantine
sense
of
humour
capable
of
the
most
clumsy
and
unwieldly
gambollings
.
Was
this
one
of
those
jokes
which
used
to
reduce
him
to
uproarious
laughter
,
when
his
eyes
would
disappear
and
he
was
all
gaping
mouth
and
wagging
beard
,
supremely
indifferent
to
the
gravity
of
all
around
him
?
I
turned
the
words
over
,
but
could
make
nothing
even
remotely
jocose
out
of
them
.
Then
surely
it
was
a
concise
order
—
though
a
very
strange
one
.
He
was
the
last
man
in
the
world
whose
deliberate
command
I
should
care
to
disobey
.
Possibly
some
chemical
experiment
was
afoot
;
possibly
—
—
Well
,
it
was
no
business
of
mine
to
speculate
upon
why
he
wanted
it
.
I
must
get
it
.
There
was
nearly
an
hour
before
I
should
catch
the
train
at
Victoria
.
I
took
a
taxi
,
and
having
ascertained
the
address
from
the
telephone
book
,
I
made
for
the
Oxygen
Tube
Supply
Company
in
Oxford
Street
.
As
I
alighted
on
the
pavement
at
my
destination
,
two
youths
emerged
from
the
door
of
the
establishment
carrying
an
iron
cylinder
,
which
,
with
some
trouble
,
they
hoisted
into
a
waiting
motor
-
car
.
An
elderly
man
was
at
their
heels
scolding
and
directing
in
a
creaky
,
sardonic
voice
.
He
turned
towards
me
.
There
was
no
mistaking
those
austere
features
and
that
goatee
beard
.
It
was
my
old
cross
-
grained
companion
,
Professor
Summerlee
.
"
What
!
"
he
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
?
"
