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Chapter IV. A Diary Of The Dying

           

           "I’mnottroublin’myheadwhetherhe’saliveordead,"saidhe."Wedon’tsomuchasknoweachotherbysight,sowhyshouldItakeittoheart?Idon’tsupposehe’sworryin’himselfoverthestateofourhealth."

           Ilaughedatthis,andChallengerlookedinmydirectionwithhiscoldestandmostsuperciliousstare.Itwasamostpetrifyingexperience.

           "Theflippancyofthehalf-educatedismoreobstructivetosciencethantheobtusenessoftheignorant,"saidhe."IfLordJohnRoxtonwouldcondescend——"

           "MydearGeorge,don’tbesopeppery,"saidhiswife,withherhandontheblackmanethatdroopedoverthemicroscope."Whatcanitmatterwhethertheamoebaisaliveornot?"

           "Itmattersagreatdeal,"saidChallengergruffly.

           "Well,let’shearaboutit,"saidLordJohnwithagood-humouredsmile."Wemayaswelltalkaboutthatasanythingelse.IfyouthinkI’vebeentoooff-handwiththething,orhurtitsfeelin’sinanyway,I’llapologize."

           "Formypart,"remarkedSummerleeinhiscreaky,argumentativevoice,"Ican’tseewhyyoushouldattachsuchimportancetothecreaturebeingalive.Itisinthesameatmosphereasourselves,sonaturallythepoisondoesnotactuponit.Ifitwereoutsideofthisroomitwouldbedead,likeallotheranimallife."

           "Yourremarks,mygoodSummerlee,"saidChallengerwithenormouscondescension(oh,ifIcouldpaintthatover-bearing,arrogantfaceinthevividcircleofreflectionfromthemicroscopemirror!)—"yourremarksshowthatyouimperfectlyappreciatethesituation.Thisspecimenwasmountedyesterdayandishermeticallysealed.

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