Challenger, Professor (Fictitious character) -- Fiction; Science fiction
And there was Challenger to meet us. His appearance was glorious. Not
all the turkey-cocks in creation could match the slow, high-stepping
dignity with which he paraded his own railway station and the benignant
smile of condescending encouragement with which he regarded everybody
around him. If he had changed in anything since the days of old, it was
that his points had become accentuated. The huge head and broad sweep of
forehead, with its plastered lock of black hair, seemed even greater than
before. His black beard poured forward in a more impressive cascade, and
his clear grey eyes, with their insolent and sardonic eyelids, were even
more masterful than of yore.
He gave me the amused hand-shake and encouraging smile which the head
master bestows upon the small boy, and, having greeted the others and
helped to collect their bags and their cylinders of oxygen, he stowed us
and them away in a large motor-car which was driven by the same impassive
Austin, the man of few words, whom I had seen in the character of butler
upon the occasion of my first eventful visit to the Professor. Our
journey led us up a winding hill through beautiful country. I sat in
front with the chauffeur, but behind me my three comrades seemed to me to
be all talking together. Lord John was still struggling with his buffalo
story, so far as I could make out, while once again I heard, as of old,
the deep rumble of Challenger and the insistent accents of Summerlee as
their brains locked in high and fierce scientific debate. Suddenly
Austin slanted his mahogany face toward me without taking his eyes from
his steering-wheel.
"I'm under notice," said he.
"Dear me!" said I.
Everything seemed strange to-day. Everyone said queer, unexpected
things. It was like a dream.
"It's forty-seven times," said Austin reflectively.
"When do you go?" I asked, for want of some better observation.
"I don't go," said Austin.
The conversation seemed to have ended there, but presently he came back
to it.
"If I was to go, who would look after 'im?" He jerked his head toward
his master. "Who would 'e get to serve 'im?"
"Someone else," I suggested lamely.
"Not 'e. No one would stay a week. If I was to go, that 'ouse would run
down like a watch with the mainspring out. I'm telling you because
you're 'is friend, and you ought to know. If I was to take 'im at 'is
word--but there, I wouldn't have the 'eart. 'E and the missus would be
like two babes left out in a bundle. I'm just everything. And then 'e
goes and gives me notice."
"Why would no one stay?" I asked.
"Well, they wouldn't make allowances, same as I do. 'E's a very clever
man, the master--so clever that 'e's clean balmy sometimes. I've seen
'im right off 'is onion, and no error. Well, look what 'e did this
morning."
"What did he do?"
Austin bent over to me.
"'E bit the 'ousekeeper," said he in a hoarse whisper.
"Bit her?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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