“Name!  Name!” cried the audience.

“My name is Edward Dunn Malone.  I am the reporter of the Daily Gazette.  I claim to be an absolutely unprejudiced witness.”

“What is your name, sir?” the chairman asked of my tall rival.

“I am Lord John Roxton.  I have already been up the Amazon, I know all the ground, and have special qualifications for this investigation.”

“Lord John Roxton’s reputation as a sportsman and a traveler is, of course, world-famous,” said the chairman; “at the same time it would certainly be as well to have a member of the Press upon such an expedition.”

“Then I move,” said Professor Challenger, “that both these gentlemen be elected, as representatives of this meeting, to accompany Professor Summerlee upon his journey to investigate and to report upon the truth of my statements.”

And so, amid shouting and cheering, our fate was decided, and I found myself borne away in the human current which swirled towards the door, with my mind half stunned by the vast new project which had risen so suddenly before it.  As I emerged from the hall I was conscious for a moment of a rush of laughing students—­down the pavement, and of an arm wielding a heavy umbrella, which rose and fell in the midst of them.  Then, amid a mixture of groans and cheers, Professor Challenger’s electric brougham slid from the curb, and I found myself walking under the silvery lights of Regent Street, full of thoughts of Gladys and of wonder as to my future.

Suddenly there was a touch at my elbow.  I turned, and found myself looking into the humorous, masterful eyes of the tall, thin man who had volunteered to be my companion on this strange quest.

“Mr. Malone, I understand,” said he.  “We are to be companions—­what?  My rooms are just over the road, in the Albany.  Perhaps you would have the kindness to spare me half an hour, for there are one or two things that I badly want to say to you.”

CHAPTER VI

“I was the Flail of the Lord”

Lord John Roxton and I turned down Vigo Street together and through the dingy portals of the famous aristocratic rookery.  At the end of a long drab passage my new acquaintance pushed open a door and turned on an electric switch.  A number of lamps shining through tinted shades bathed the whole great room before us in a ruddy radiance.  Standing in the doorway and glancing round me, I had a general impression of extraordinary comfort and elegance combined with an atmosphere of masculine virility.  Everywhere there were mingled the luxury of the wealthy man of taste and the careless untidiness of the bachelor.  Rich furs and strange iridescent mats from some Oriental bazaar were scattered upon the floor.  Pictures and prints which even my unpractised eyes could recognize as being of great price and rarity hung thick upon the walls.  Sketches of boxers, of ballet-girls,