"That you, Mr.Malone?" cried his familiar voice."Mr.Malone, there are terrible goings-on in London.For God's sake, see if Professor Challenger can suggest anything that can be done.""He can suggest nothing, sir," I answered."He regards the crisis as universal and inevitable.We have some oxygen here, but it can only defer our fate for a few hours.""Oxygen!" cried the agonized voice."There is no time to get any.The office has been a perfect pandemonium ever since you left in the morning.Now half of the staff are insensible.I am weighed down with heaviness myself.From my window I can see the people lying thick in Fleet Street.The traffic is all held up.
Judging by the last telegrams, the whole world----"His voice had been sinking, and suddenly stopped.An instant later I heard through the telephone a muffled thud, as if his head had fallen forward on the desk.
"Mr.McArdle!" I cried."Mr.McArdle!"
There was no answer.I knew as I replaced the receiver that Ishould never hear his voice again.
At that instant, just as I took a step backwards from the telephone, the thing was on us.It was as if we were bathers, up to our shoulders in water, who suddenly are submerged by a rolling wave.An invisible hand seemed to have quietly closed round my throat and to be gently pressing the life from me.Iwas conscious of immense oppression upon my chest, great tightness within my head, a loud singing in my ears, and bright flashes before my eyes.I staggered to the balustrades of the stair.At the same moment, rushing and snorting like a wounded buffalo, Challenger dashed past me, a terrible vision, with red-purple face, engorged eyes, and bristling hair.His little wife, insensible to all appearance, was slung over his great shoulder, and he blundered and thundered up the stair, scrambling and tripping, but carrying himself and her through sheer will-force through that mephitic atmosphere to the haven of temporary safety.At the sight of his effort I too rushed up the steps, clambering, falling, clutching at the rail, until Itumbled half senseless upon by face on the upper landing.Lord John's fingers of steel were in the collar of my coat, and a moment later I was stretched upon my back, unable to speak or move, on the boudoir carpet.The woman lay beside me, and Summerlee was bunched in a chair by the window, his head nearly touching his knees.As in a dream I saw Challenger, like a monstrous beetle, crawling slowly across the floor, and a moment later I heard the gentle hissing of the escaping oxygen.
Challenger breathed two or three times with enormous gulps, his lungs roaring as he drew in the vital gas.
"It works!" he cried exultantly."My reasoning has been justified!" He was up on his feet again, alert and strong.With a tube in his hand he rushed over to his wife and held it to her face.In a few seconds she moaned, stirred, and sat up.He turned to me, and I felt the tide of life stealing warmly through my arteries.My reason told me that it was but a little respite, and yet, carelessly as we talk of its value, every hour of existence now seemed an inestimable thing.Never have I known such a thrill of sensuous joy as came with that freshet of life.
The weight fell away from my lungs, the band loosened from my brow, a sweet feeling of peace and gentle, languid comfort stole over me.I lay watching Summerlee revive under the same remedy, and finally Lord John took his turn.He sprang to his feet and gave me a hand to rise, while Challenger picked up his wife and laid her on the settee.
"Oh, George, I am so sorry you brought me back," she said, holding him by the hand."The door of death is indeed, as you said, hung with beautiful, shimmering curtains; for, once the choking feeling had passed, it was all unspeakably soothing and beautiful.Why have you dragged me back?""Because I wish that we make the passage together.We have been together so many years.It would be sad to fall apart at the supreme moment."For a moment in his tender voice I caught a glimpse of a new Challenger, something very far from the bullying, ranting, arrogant man who had alternately amazed and offended his generation.Here in the shadow of death was the innermost Challenger, the man who had won and held a woman's love.
Suddenly his mood changed and he was our strong captain once again.
"Alone of all mankind I saw and foretold this catastrophe," said he with a ring of exultation and scientific triumph in his voice."As to you, my good Summerlee, I trust your last doubts have been resolved as to the meaning of the blurring of the lines in the spectrum and that you will no longer contend that my letter in the Times was based upon a delusion."For once our pugnacious colleague was deaf to a challenge.He could but sit gasping and stretching his long, thin limbs, as if to assure himself that he was still really upon this planet.
Challenger walked across to the oxygen tube, and the sound of the loud hissing fell away till it was the most gentle sibilation.
"We must husband our supply of the gas," said he."The atmosphere of the room is now strongly hyperoxygenated, and Itake it that none of us feel any distressing symptoms.We can only determine by actual experiments what amount added to the air will serve to neutralize the poison.Let us see how that will do."We sat in silent nervous tension for five minutes or more, observing our own sensations.I had just begun to fancy that Ifelt the constriction round my temples again when Mrs.
Challenger called out from the sofa that she was fainting.Her husband turned on more gas.
"In pre-scientific days," said he, "they used to keep a white mouse in every submarine, as its more delicate organization gave signs of a vicious atmosphere before it was perceived by the sailors.You, my dear, will be our white mouse.I have now increased the supply and you are better.""Yes, I am better."
