s
just at present. Well, Herr Professor, what are the prospects?"

Challenger was looking out at the great drifts of morning mist which lay
over the landscape. Here and there the wooded hills rose like conical
islands out of this woolly sea.

"It might be a winding sheet," said Mrs. Challenger, who had entered in
her dressing-gown. "There's that song of yours, George, 'Ring out the
old, ring in the new.' It was prophetic. But you are shivering, my poor
dear friends. I have been warm under a coverlet all night, and you cold
in your chairs. But I'll soon set you right."

The brave little creature hurried away, and presently we heard the
sizzling of a kettle. She was back soon with five steaming cups of cocoa
upon a tray.

"Drink these," said she. "You will feel so much better."

And we did. Summerlee asked if he might light his pipe, and we all had
cigarettes. It steadied our nerves, I think, but it was a mistake, for
it made a dreadful atmosphere in that stuffy room. Challenger had to
open the ventilator.

"How long, Challenger?" asked Lord John.

"Possibly three hours," he answered with a shrug.

"I used to be frightened," said his wife. "But the nearer I get to it,
the easier it seems. Don't you think we ought to pray, George?"

"You will pray, dear, if you wish," the big man answered, very gently.
"We all have our own ways of praying. Mine is a complete acquiescence in
whatever fate may send me--a cheerful acquiescence. The highest religion
and the highest science seem to unite on that."

"I cannot truthfully describe my mental attitude as acquiescence and far
less cheerful acquiescence," grumbled Summerlee over his pipe. "I submit
because I have to. I confess that I should have liked another year of
life to finish my classification of the chalk fossils."

"Your unfinished work is a small thing," said Challenger pompously, "when
weighed against the fact that my own _magnum opus_, 'The Ladder of Life,'
is still in the first stages. My brain, my reading, my experience--in
fact, my whole unique equipment--were to be condensed into that
epoch-making volume. And yet, as I say, I acquiesce."

"I expect we've all left some loose ends stickin' out," said Lord John.
"What are yours, young fellah?"

"I was working at a book of verses," I answered.

"Well, the world has escaped that, anyhow," said Lord John. "There's
always compensation somewhere if you grope around."

"What about you?" I as