Project Gutenberg #139
The Lost World
Arthur Conan Doyle
1912Conan Doyle's Professor Challenger adventure, prepared chapter by chapter from Project Gutenberg plaintext.
Project Gutenberg #139 Public domain in the United States Cover source Local typographic cover created for MojiMori from public-domain source metadata
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AI Summary
Chapter 3 — CHAPTER III "He is a Perfectly Impossible Person" Central question Why does everyone distrust Challenger, and why does that matter? Main argument The chapter reinforces Challenger’s public image...
that he rushed me. It was lucky that I had
opened the door, or we should have gone through it. We did a
Catharine-wheel together down the passage. Somehow we gathered up a
chair upon our way, and bounded on with it towards the street. My
mouth was full of his beard, our arms were locked, our bodies
intertwined, and that infernal chair radiated its legs all round us.
The watchful Austin had thrown open the hall door. We went with a back
somersault down the front steps. I have seen the two Macs attempt
something of the kind at the halls, but it appears to take some
practise to do it without hurting oneself. The chair went to matchwood
at the bottom, and we rolled apart into the gutter. He sprang to his
feet, waving his fists and wheezing like an asthmatic.
"Had enough?" he panted.
"You infernal bully!" I cried, as I gathered myself together.
Then and there we should have tried the thing out, for he was
effervescing with fight, but fortunately I was rescued from an odious
situation. A policeman was beside us, his notebook in his hand.
"What's all this? You ought to be ashamed" said the policeman. It was
the most rational remark which I had heard in Enmore Park. "Well," he
insisted, turning to me, "what is it, then?"
"This man attacked me," said I.
"Did you attack him?" asked the policeman.
The Professor breathed hard and said nothing.
"It's not the first time, either," said the policeman, severely,
shaking his head. "You were in trouble last month for the same thing.
You've blackened this young man's eye. Do you give him in charge, sir?"
I relented.
"No," said I, "I do not."
"What's that?" said the policeman.
"I was to blame myself. I intruded upon him. He gave me fair warning."
The policeman snapped up his notebook.
"Don't let us have any more such goings-on," said he. "Now, then!
Move on, there, move on!" This to a butcher's boy, a maid, and one or
two loafers who had collected. He clumped heavily down the street,
driving this little flock before him. The Professor looked at me, and
there was something humorous at the back of his eyes.
"Come in!" said he. "I've not done with you yet."
The speech had a sinister sound, but I followed him none the less into
the house. The man-servant, Austin, like a wooden image, closed the
door behind us.