The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1925-03-02

Fling. RED-FACED IRAsCIBLE
FIGURE.
could not in all England have found
a cooler head or a Drawer spirit
with which to share them.
That night, wsarieo y was aft
err the wonderful happenings OF the
day, / sat late with McArdle. the
news editor explaining to him the
whole situation. which he thought
important enough to bring next
morning before The notice of Sir
George Beaumont. the chief 1t was
agreed that should write home full
accounts Of my adventures in the
shape of successive letters to Nc
Ardle. and that these should either
be- edited Cor the Gazette as they ar.
rived, or held back to be published
later, according to the wishes of Pro-
fessor Challenger, since we could
not yet know what conditions he
might attach to those directions
which should guide US to the un.
known land, in response to a tele.
phone inquiry, we received nothing
more definite than Illumination
against the Press, ending UP with
the remark that If we would notify
our boat he would hand us any direc-
tons which he might think it proper
to give us at the moment of starting.
A second question from us failed to
elicit my answer at all, save a
PLAINTIFF bleat from his wife to the
effect that her husband was in a
very violent temper already, and
that she hoped we would do nothing
to make IL worse. A third attempt,
later in the day, provoked a terrific
crash, and a subsequent message
from the Central Exchange that Pro-
lessor Challenger's receiver had been
shattered. After that we abandoned
all attempt at communication.
And now, my patient readers,
can address you directly no longer.
From now EDWARDS (if, indeed, any
continuation of this narrative
should ever reach you) 1t can only
be through The paper which / rep
resent. In the hands of the editor
leave this account OF the events
which have led up to one of the
most remarkable expeditions of all
time, SO that II I never return to
England there shall be some rec
ord as to how the affair came
about. I am writing these last lines
in the saloon of the Booth liner
Francisco. and they will go back
by the pilot to the keeping of Mi.
McArdle. Let me draw the last pic
ture before I close the notebook
picture which is the last memory
Of the old country which bear
away With me- 1t is wet, foggy
morning in the late spring; a thin.
cold rain is falling. Three shining
mackintoshed figures are walking
down the quay, making for the
gdng-plank of the great liner from
which the blue-peter is flying. In
front Of them porter pushes a
trolley piled high with trunks,
wraps and gun cases. Professor
Summerlee, a long, melancholy fig
ure, walks with dragging steps and
dropping, head as one who is al
ready profoundly sorry for himself.
Lord John Roxton steps briskly,
and his thin, eager face beams
forth between his hunting-cap and
his muller. AS for myself, am
glad to have got the busting days
of preparation and the pangs Of
leave-taking behind me, and T have
no doubt that show it In my bear.
ing, Suddenly, just as we reach
the vessel. there is shout pehind
us. It is Professor Challenger, who
had promised to see us orr. He runs
after us, putting red-faced, fras,
chile figure.
Copyright. 1912. by A. Conan Doyle.
Continued In Next Issue)