I always liked McArdle, the crabbed, old, round-backed,red-headed news editor, and I rather hoped that he liked me. Of course, Beaumont was the real boss; but he lived in therarefied atmosphere of some Olympian height from which he coulddistinguish nothing smaller than an international crisis or asplit in the Cabinet. Sometimes we saw him passing in lonelymajesty to his inner sanctum, with his eyes staring vaguely andhis mind hovering over the Balkans or the Persian Gulf. He wasabove and beyond us. But McArdle was his first lieutenant, andit was he that we knew. The old man nodded as I entered theroom, and he pushed his spectacles far up on his bald forehead.

"Well, Mr. Malone, from all I hear, you seem to be doing verywell," said he in his kindly Scotch accent.

I thanked him.

"The colliery explosion was excellent. So was the Southwark fire. You have the true descreeptive touch. What did you want to seeme about?"

"To ask a favor."

He looked alarmed, and his eyes shunned mine. "Tut, tut! What is it?"

"Do you think, Sir, that you could possibly send me on somemission for the paper? I would do my best to put it through andget you some good copy."

"What sort of meesion had you in your mind, Mr. Malone?"

"Well, Sir, anything that had adventure and danger in it. I really would do my very best. The more difficult it was, thebetter it would suit me."

"You seem very anxious to lose your life."

"To justify my life, Sir."

"Dear me, Mr. Malone, this is very--very exalted. I'm afraid theday for this sort of thing is rather past. The expense of the`special meesion' business hardly justifies the result, and, ofcourse, in any case it would only be an experienced man with aname that would command public confidence who would get suchan order. The big blank spaces in the map are all being filled in,and there's no room for romance anywhere. Wait a bit, though!"he added, with a sudden smile upon his face. "Talking of theblank spaces of the map gives me an idea. What about exposing afraud--a modern Munchausen--and making him rideeculous? You couldshow him up as the liar that he is! Eh, man, it would be fine.How does it appeal to you?"

"Anything--anywhere--I care nothing."

McArdle was plunged in thought for some minutes.

"I wonder whether you could get on friendly--or at least ontalking terms with the fellow," he said, at last. "You seem tohave a sort of genius for establishing relations withpeople--seempathy, I suppose, or animal magnetism, or youthfulvitality, or something. I am conscious of it myself."

"You are very good, sir."

"So why should you not try your luck with Professor Challenger,of Enmore Park?"

I dare say I looked a little startled.

"Challenger!" I cried. "Professor Challenger, the famous zoologist! Wasn't he the man who broke the skull of Blundell, of the Telegraph?"

The news editor smiled grimly.

"Do you mind? Didn't you say it was adventures you were after?"

"It is all in the way of business, sir," I answered.

"Exactly. I don't suppose he can always be so violent as that. I'm thinking that Blundell got him at the wrong moment, maybe, orin the wrong fashion. You may have better luck, or more tact inhandling him. There's something in your line there, I am sure,and the Gazette should work it."

"I really know nothing about him," said I. I only remember hisname in connection with the police-court proceedings, forstriking Blundell."

"I have a few notes for your guidance, Mr. Malone. I've had myeye on the Professor for some little time." He took a paper froma drawer. "Here is a summary of his record. I give it you briefly:--

"`Challenger, George Edward. Born: Largs, N. B., 1863. Educ.:Largs Academy; Edinburgh University. British Museum Assistant, 1892. Assistant-Keeper of Comparative Anthropology Department, 1893. Resigned after acrimonious correspondence same year. Winner ofCrayston Medal for Zoological Research. Foreign Member of'--well,quite a lot of things, about two inches of small type--`SocieteBelge, American Academy of Sciences, La Plata, etc., etc. Ex-President Palaeontological Society. Section H, BritishAssociation'--so on, so on!--`Publications: "Some ObservationsUpon a Series of Kalmuck Skulls"; "Outlines of VertebrateEvolution"; and numerous papers, including "The underlyingfallacy of Weissmannism," which caused heated discussion atthe Zoological Congress of Vienna. Recreations: Walking,Alpine climbing. Address: Enmore Park, Kensington, W.'

"There, take it with you. I've nothing more for you to-night."

I pocketed the slip of paper.

"One moment, sir," I said, as I realized that it was a pink baldhead, and not a red face, which was fronting me. "I am not veryclear yet why I am to interview this gentleman. What has he done?"

The face flashed back again.

"Went to South America on a solitary expedeetion two years ago. Came back last year. Had undoubtedly been to South America, butrefused to say exactly where. Began to tell his adventures in avague way, but somebody started to pick holes, and he just shutup like an oyster. Something wonderful happened--or the man's achampion liar, which is the more probable supposeetion. Had somedamaged photographs, said to be fakes. Got so touchy that heassaults anyone who asks questions, and heaves reporters dounthe stairs. In my opinion he's just a homicidal megalomaniac witha turn for science. That's your man, Mr. Malone. Now, off yourun, and see what you can make of him. You're big enough to lookafter yourself. Anyway, you are all safe. Employers' LiabilityAct, you know."

A grinning red face turned once more into a pink oval, fringedwith gingery fluff; the interview was at an end.

I walked across to the Savage Club, but instead of turning intoit I leaned upon the railings of Adelphi Terrace and gazedthoughtfully for a long time at the brown, oily river. I canalways think most sanely and clearly in the open air. I took outthe list of Professor Challenger's exploits, and I read it overunder the electric lamp. Then I had what I can only regard asan inspiration. As a Pressman, I felt sure from what I had beentold that I could never hope to get into touch with thiscantankerous Professor. But these recriminations, twicementioned in his skeleton biography, could only mean that he wasa fanatic in science. Was there not an exposed margin there uponwhich he might be accessible? I would try.

I entered the club. It was just after eleven, and the big roomwas fairly full, though the rush had not yet set in. I noticeda tall, thin, angular man seated in an arm-chair by the fire. He turned as I drew my chair up to him. It was the man of allothers whom I should have chosen--Tarp Henry, of the staff ofNature, a thin, dry, leathery creature, who was full, to those whoknew him, of kindly humanity. I plunged instantly into my subject.

"What do you know of Professor Challenger?"

"Challenger?" He gathered his brows in scientific disapproval. "Challenger was the man who came with some cock-and-bull storyfrom South America."

"What story?"

"Oh, it was rank nonsense about some queer animals he had discovered. I believe he has retracted since. Anyhow, he has suppressed it all. He gave an interview to Reuter's, and there was such a howl that hesaw it wouldn't do. It was a discreditable business. There wereone or two folk who were inclined to take him seriously, but he soonchoked them off."

"How?"

"Well, by his insufferable rudeness and impossible behavior. There was poor old Wadley, of the Zoological Institute. Wadley senta message: `The President of the Zoological Institute presentshis compliments to Professor Challenger, and would take it as apersonal favor if he would do them the honor to come to theirnext meeting.' The answer was unprintable."

"You don't say?"

"Well, a bowdlerized version of it would run: `ProfessorChallenger presents his compliments to the President of theZoological Institute, and would take it as a personal favor if hewould go to the devil.'"

"Good Lord!"

"Yes, I expect that's what old Wadley said. I remember his wailat the meeting, which began: `In fifty years experience ofscientific intercourse----' It quite broke the old man up."

"Anything more about Challenger?"

"Well, I'm a bacteriologist, you know. I live in anine-hundred-diameter microscope. I can hardly claim to takeserious notice of anything that I can see with my naked eye. I'm a frontiersman from the extreme edge of the Knowable, and I feelquite out of place when I leave my study and come into touch withall you great, rough, hulking creatures. I'm too detached totalk scandal, and yet at scientific conversaziones I HAVE heardsomething of Challenger, for he is one of those men whom nobodycan ignore. He's as clever as they make 'em--a full-chargedbattery of force and vitality, but a quarrelsome, ill-conditionedfaddist, and unscrupulous at that. He had gone the length offaking some photographs over the South American business."

"You say he is a faddist. What is his particular fad?"

"He has a thousand, but the latest is something about Weissmannand Evolution. He had a fearful row about it in Vienna, I believe."

"Can't you tell me the point?"

"Not at the moment, but a translation of the proceedings exists. We have it filed at the office. Would you care to come?"

"It's just what I want. I have to interview the fellow, and Ineed some lead up to him. It's really awfully good of you togive me a lift. I'll go with you now, if it is not too late."

Half an hour later I was seated in the newspaper office with ahuge tome in front of me, which had been opened at the article"Weissmann versus Darwin," with the sub heading, "SpiritedProtest at Vienna. Lively Proceedings." My scientific educationhaving been somewhat neglected, I was unable to follow the wholeargument, but it was evident that the English Professor hadhandled his subject in a very aggressive fashion, and hadthoroughly annoyed his Continental colleagues. "Protests,""Uproar," and "General appeal to the Chairman" were three of thefirst brackets which caught my eye. Most of the matter mighthave been written in Chinese for any definite meaning that itconveyed to my brain.

"I wish you could translate it into English for me," I said,pathetically, to my help-mate.

"Well, it is a translation."

"Then I'd better try my luck with the original."

"It is certainly rather deep for a layman."

"If I could only get a single good, meaty sentence which seemedto convey some sort of definite human idea, it would serve my turn. Ah, yes, this one will do. I seem in a vague way almost tounderstand it. I'll copy it out. This shall be my link withthe terrible Professor."

"Nothing else I can do?"

"Well, yes; I propose to write to him. If I could frame theletter here, and use your address it would give atmosphere."

"We'll have the fellow round here making a row and breakingthe furniture."

"No, no; you'll see the letter--nothing contentious, I assure you."

"Well, that's my chair and desk. You'll find paper there. I'd liketo censor it before it goes."

It took some doing, but I flatter myself that it wasn't such abad job when it was finished. I read it aloud to the criticalbacteriologist with some pride in my handiwork.

"DEAR PROFESSOR CHALLENGER," it said, "As a humble student ofNature, I have always taken the most profound interest in yourspeculations as to the differences between Darwin and Weissmann. I have recently had occasion to refresh my memory by re-reading----"

"You infernal liar!" murmured Tarp Henry.

--"by re-reading your masterly address at Vienna. That lucid andadmirable statement seems to be the last word in the matter. There is one sentence in it, however--namely: `I protest stronglyagainst the insufferable and entirely dogmatic assertion thateach separate id is a microcosm possessed of an historicalarchitecture elaborated slowly through the series of generations.' Have you no desire, in view of later research, to modifythis statement? Do you not think that it is over-accentuated? With your permission, I would ask the favor of an interview,as I feel strongly upon the subject, and have certain suggestionswhich I could only elaborate in a personal conversation. With yourconsent, I trust to have the honor of calling at eleven o'clockthe day after to-morrow (Wednesday) morning.

"I remain, Sir, with assurances of profound respect,yours very truly,EDWARD D. MALONE."

"How's that?" I asked, triumphantly.

"Well if your conscience can stand it----"

"It has never failed me yet."

"But what do you mean to do?"

"To get there. Once I am in his room I may see some opening. I may even go the length of open confession. If he is a sportsmanhe will be tickled."

"Tickled, indeed! He's much more likely to do the tickling. Chain mail, or an American football suit--that's what you'll want. Well, good-bye. I'll have the answer for you here on Wednesdaymorning--if he ever deigns to answer you. He is a violent,dangerous, cantankerous character, hated by everyone who comesacross him, and the butt of the students, so far as they daretake a liberty with him. Perhaps it would be best for you ifyou never heard from the fellow at all."