CHAPTER XVI

by Arthur Conan Doyle

“A Procession! A Procession!”

I want to take a moment to express our heartfelt gratitude to all our friends along the Amazon for their incredible kindness and hospitality during our return journey. I especially want to thank Senhor Penalosa and the other officials of the Brazilian Government for the special arrangements that made our travels smoother. I also owe a debt of gratitude to Senhor Pereira in Para, whose foresight ensured we had everything we needed to look presentable in the civilized world when we arrived in his town. It felt wrong to deceive our generous hosts and benefactors, but given the circumstances, we had no choice. I want to make it clear that any attempts to follow in our footsteps will be futile. We’ve even changed the names in our accounts, and I’m confident that no one, no matter how diligently they study them, could come close to discovering our hidden land.

The excitement that spread through the parts of South America we traveled was something we thought was just local. I assure our friends back in England, we had no idea of the uproar our mere presence had stirred across Europe. It wasn’t until the Ivernia was just five hundred miles from Southampton that we started receiving wireless messages from various newspapers and agencies, offering large sums for a brief update on our actual findings. This showed us just how captivated both the scientific community and the general public were by our journey. However, we all agreed that we wouldn’t release any concrete statements to the press until we had met with the members of the Zoological Institute. As delegates, it was our responsibility to deliver our first report to the organization that had commissioned our investigation. So, even though Southampton was buzzing with journalists, we firmly refused to share any information, which only heightened public interest in the meeting scheduled for the evening of November 7th. The Zoological Hall, where our mission had begun, was far too small for the crowd, and we had to move to the Queen's Hall on Regent Street to accommodate everyone. It’s now widely known that the organizers could have filled the Albert Hall and still needed more space.

The significant meeting was set for the second evening after our arrival. On the first night, we each had our own personal matters to deal with. As for me, I can’t yet bring myself to discuss them. Perhaps, with time, I’ll be able to reflect on it and even talk about it with less emotion. I’ve already shown you the motivations behind my actions at the beginning of this story. It seems only fair that I continue the narrative and reveal the outcomes as well. Yet, there may come a time when I wish it were different. At the very least, I’ve been compelled to embark on an extraordinary adventure, and I can’t help but feel thankful for the force that pushed me forward.

Now, I turn to the final, pivotal moment of our adventure. As I was trying to figure out the best way to describe it, my eyes landed on my own journal entry from the morning of November 8th, which contained an excellent account by my friend and fellow reporter, Macdona. What better way to convey the events than to transcribe his narrative—headlines and all? I admit the paper was quite enthusiastic in its coverage, likely as a nod to its own initiative in sending a correspondent, but the other major newspapers were just as thorough in their reporting. So, here’s what my friend Mac had to say in his report:

THE NEW WORLD GREAT MEETING AT THE QUEEN'S HALL

SCENES OF UPROAR

EXTRAORDINARY INCIDENT

WHAT WAS IT?

NOCTURNAL RIOT IN REGENT STREET

(Special)

The much-anticipated meeting of the Zoological Institute took place last night in the grand Queen's Hall. It was convened to hear the report from the Committee of Investigation that had been sent to South America the previous year to verify Professor Challenger's claims about the existence of prehistoric life on that continent. It's safe to say that this event will be remembered as a significant moment in the history of science, as the proceedings were so remarkable and sensational that no one present is likely to forget them.

The tickets were technically reserved for members and their friends, but "friends" is a flexible term. By eight o'clock, the time set for the meeting to begin, the Great Hall was packed. The general public, feeling unfairly excluded, stormed the doors at a quarter to eight, resulting in a chaotic scene where several people were injured, including Inspector Scoble of H. Division, who unfortunately broke his leg. This unwarranted invasion not only filled every corridor but also encroached upon the area designated for the press. It’s estimated that nearly five thousand people were waiting for the travelers to arrive.

When the four adventurers finally made their entrance, they took their places at the front of a platform already occupied by leading scientists from not just the UK, but also from France and Germany. Sweden was represented by Professor Sergius, the renowned zoologist from the University of Upsala. The moment the four heroes appeared, the audience erupted into a warm welcome, rising to cheer for several minutes. However, a keen observer might have noticed hints of dissent amid the applause, suggesting that the proceedings could become more contentious than harmonious. Yet, no one could have predicted the extraordinary turn of events that were about to unfold.

As for the appearance of the four explorers, not much needs to be said since their photographs had been circulating in the papers for some time. They showed few signs of the hardships they were said to have endured. Professor Challenger sported a shaggy beard, Professor Summerlee had a more ascetic look, and Lord John Roxton appeared somewhat gaunt. All three had tanned darker than when they had left home, but they seemed to be in excellent health. Our own representative, the well-known athlete and international rugby player E. D. Malone, looked fit and ready, and as he surveyed the crowd, a smile of good-natured satisfaction spread across his honest, if unrefined, face.

Once the applause for the travelers subsided and the audience settled back into their seats, the chairman, the Duke of Durham, addressed the gathering. He stated that he wouldn’t take up too much time before the audience got to enjoy the presentation ahead of them. It wasn’t his place to predict what Professor Summerlee, the committee’s spokesperson, would reveal, but rumors suggested that their expedition had been extraordinarily successful.

He added that it seemed the age of romance was not yet over, as there was common ground where the wildest imaginings of novelists could intersect with the actual scientific inquiries of truth-seekers. Before he stepped down, he expressed his joy—shared by everyone present—that these gentlemen had returned safe and sound from their challenging and perilous task. It was undeniable that any disaster to such an expedition would have caused an almost irreparable loss to the field of zoological science. This statement was met with great applause, in which Professor Challenger was seen joining enthusiastically.

When Professor Summerlee stood up, it sparked another wave of excitement that rippled through the crowd, breaking out at various points during his speech. We won’t recount his entire address here, as a full account of the expedition's adventures will be published soon, written by our own special correspondent. Instead, we’ll provide some general highlights.

He began by explaining how their journey came to be, paying tribute to his friend, Professor Challenger, and apologizing for the skepticism that had surrounded Challenger's claims, which were now fully validated. He outlined their route, carefully omitting details that could help anyone pinpoint the location of the extraordinary plateau they had discovered.

As he described their journey from the main river to the base of the cliffs, he captivated his audience with tales of the challenges they faced in trying to climb those cliffs. He recounted their desperate attempts, which ultimately cost the lives of two devoted half-breed servants.

Once he had taken his listeners to the summit, stranded them there due to the collapse of their bridge, he began to share both the terrifying and fascinating aspects of that remarkable land. He didn’t delve much into personal stories but emphasized the wealth of scientific discoveries they made, particularly the incredible variety of animals, birds, insects, and plants on the plateau.

The region was especially rich in beetles and butterflies, with forty-six new species of beetles and ninety-four new species of butterflies collected in just a few weeks. However, the public's interest naturally gravitated toward the larger animals, especially those believed to be extinct. He provided a substantial list of these creatures, confident that further exploration would reveal even more. He and his companions had spotted at least a dozen animals, most of them from a distance, that didn’t match any known species. These would eventually be classified and studied.

He described a snake whose shed skin was a deep purple and measured fifty-one feet long, and mentioned a white creature, likely a mammal, that glowed with a distinct phosphorescence in the dark. He also talked about a large black moth, which the local Indians believed had a highly poisonous bite.

Aside from these entirely new forms of life, the plateau was abundant with known prehistoric species, some dating back to the early Jurassic period. He highlighted the gigantic and bizarre stegosaurus, which Mr. Malone had once seen at a watering hole by the lake, and which had been sketched by the adventurous American who first ventured into this unknown world. He also mentioned the iguanodon and the pterodactyl, two of the first wonders they encountered.

The audience was on the edge of their seats as he recounted the terrifying carnivorous dinosaurs that had chased members of their party, the most formidable creatures they faced. He then described the massive and fierce bird known as the phororhacos, as well as the great elk that still roamed the highlands.

But it was when he began to describe the mysteries of the central lake that the audience's excitement truly peaked. It felt surreal to hear this rational and composed professor, in his measured tone, speak of monstrous three-eyed fish-lizards and enormous water snakes that inhabited that enchanted body of water.

He moved on to discuss the local Indians and the remarkable colony of anthropoid apes, which could be seen as an evolution beyond the Java pithecanthropus, bringing them closer to the elusive concept of the missing link.

Finally, with a touch of humor, he described Professor Challenger’s ingenious yet perilous flying invention and concluded his unforgettable address by recounting how the committee eventually found their way back to civilization.

It was hoped that the meeting would wrap up smoothly with a vote of thanks and congratulations, proposed by Professor Sergius from Upsala University. However, it quickly became clear that things were not going to go as planned. Signs of dissent had been bubbling under the surface throughout the evening, and now Dr. James Illingworth from Edinburgh stood up in the middle of the hall.

“Shouldn’t we consider an amendment before we pass a resolution?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, if there must be an amendment,” the Chairman replied.

“Your Grace, there must be an amendment,” Dr. Illingworth insisted.

“Then let’s address it right away,” the Chairman said.

Professor Summerlee jumped to his feet. “If I may explain, your Grace, this man has been my personal enemy ever since our debate in the Quarterly Journal of Science about the true nature of Bathybius.”

“I’m afraid I can’t entertain personal matters. Please proceed,” the Chairman said.

Dr. Illingworth’s voice struggled to be heard over the loud objections from supporters of the explorers. Some even tried to drown him out. But he was a large man with a powerful voice, and he managed to rise above the chaos to finish his speech. It was clear from the moment he stood up that he had a few friends in the audience, though they were outnumbered. Most of the crowd seemed to adopt a stance of neutral attentiveness.

He began by acknowledging the significant scientific contributions of both Professor Challenger and Professor Summerlee. He expressed regret that his previous comments had been misinterpreted as personal bias; his only goal was the pursuit of scientific truth. His stance was essentially the same as Professor Summerlee’s at the last meeting. Back then, Professor Challenger had made certain claims that had been challenged by his colleague. Now, that same colleague was presenting those claims again, expecting them to go unchallenged. Was that reasonable?

“Yes!” “No!” came the shouts, along with interruptions, during which Professor Challenger could be heard from the press box asking the Chairman for permission to throw Dr. Illingworth out.

A year ago, one person had made certain statements. Now, four men were making even more outrageous claims. Was this supposed to serve as definitive proof, especially when the matters at hand were so revolutionary and unbelievable? There had been recent instances of travelers returning from the unknown with stories that had been accepted too readily. Should the London Zoological Institute put itself in that position? He acknowledged that the committee members were men of integrity, but human nature was complex. Even professors could be swayed by the desire for fame. Like moths drawn to a flame, we all loved to bask in the spotlight. Big-game hunters liked to one-up their rivals, and journalists were not averse to sensational stories, even if they had to stretch the truth to make them work. Each committee member had his own reasons for wanting to highlight his findings.

“Shame! Shame!” came the cries from the crowd.

“I don’t mean to offend,” Dr. Illingworth said, but the interruptions continued.

The evidence supporting these astonishing claims was, in reality, quite flimsy. What did it amount to? A few photographs. Was it possible, in this age of clever manipulation, to accept photographs as proof? What else was there? A story about a flight and a descent using ropes that supposedly prevented the retrieval of larger specimens. It was clever, but not convincing. He noted that Lord John Roxton claimed to possess the skull of a phororhachus. “I’d like to see that skull,” he added.

“Is this guy calling me a liar?” Lord John Roxton shouted, inciting an uproar.

“Order! Order!” the Chairman called out. “Dr. Illingworth, I must ask you to conclude your remarks and move your amendment.”

“Your Grace, I have more to say, but I will respect your ruling. Therefore, I move that while we thank Professor Summerlee for his interesting address, the entire matter should be considered ‘non-proven’ and referred back to a larger, possibly more reliable Committee of Investigation.”

It was hard to capture the chaos that erupted from this amendment. A significant portion of the audience voiced their outrage at what they saw as an insult to the travelers, shouting things like, “Don’t put it!” “Withdraw!” and “Get him out!” Meanwhile, the dissenters—who were undeniably a sizable group—cheered for the amendment, calling out for “Order!” “Chair!” and “Fair play!”

A scuffle broke out among the medical students packed into the back benches, fists flying as tensions escalated. The presence of a large number of women in the hall was the only thing that kept the situation from spiraling into a full-blown riot. Then, suddenly, the noise faded into a hush, and silence fell. Professor Challenger stood up. His presence was commanding, and as he raised his hand for order, the entire audience quieted down, eager to hear what he had to say.

“It will be remembered by many of you,” Professor Challenger began, “that similar foolish and rude scenes marked the last meeting where I had the chance to speak. On that occasion, Professor Summerlee was the main offender, and while he may now seem humbled and regretful, we cannot entirely forget what happened. Tonight, I’ve heard even more offensive remarks from the person who just sat down. Though it’s a challenge to lower myself to that person’s level, I will attempt to do so to clear up any reasonable doubts that anyone might have.” (Laughter and interruptions followed.) “I don’t need to remind this audience that, although Professor Summerlee, as the head of the Committee of Investigation, has been put up to speak tonight, I am the real driving force behind this matter. Any success we achieve is largely due to my efforts. I safely brought these three gentlemen to the location in question, and as you’ve heard, I’ve convinced them of the accuracy of my previous account. We had hoped that upon our return, no one would be foolish enough to dispute our conclusions. However, having learned from my past experiences, I didn’t come empty-handed. I have proof that should convince any reasonable person. As Professor Summerlee explained, our cameras were tampered with by the ape-men who raided our camp, ruining most of our negatives.” (Jeers, laughter, and shouts of “Tell us another!” came from the back.) “I mentioned the ape-men, and I can’t help but say that some of the sounds I hear now remind me vividly of my encounters with those fascinating creatures.” (Laughter.) “Despite the loss of so many valuable negatives, we still have a number of corroborative photographs showing the conditions of life on the plateau. Did they accuse us of forging these photographs?” (A voice shouted, “Yes!” leading to considerable interruptions, which resulted in several men being escorted out of the hall.) “The negatives were available for expert inspection. But what other evidence do they have? Given the circumstances of our escape, it was impossible to bring a lot of luggage, but we did manage to save Professor Summerlee’s collection of butterflies and beetles, which includes many new species. Isn’t that evidence?” (Several voices replied, “No.”) “Who said no?”

“DR. ILLINGWORTH (standing up): Our point is that such a collection could have been gathered in places other than a prehistoric plateau.” (Applause followed.)

“PROFESSOR CHALLENGER: No doubt, sir, we must respect your scientific authority, though I must admit your name is unfamiliar to me. Moving past both the photographs and the entomological collection, I want to discuss the detailed and accurate information we bring regarding points that have never been clarified before. For instance, we can shed light on the domestic habits of the pterodactyl—” (A voice interrupted with “Nonsense!” and the uproar continued.) “I say, we can provide a wealth of information on the domestic habits of the pterodactyl. I can show you a picture of that creature taken from life that would convince you—”

“DR. ILLINGWORTH: No picture could convince us of anything.”

“PROFESSOR CHALLENGER: You would need to see the creature itself?”

“DR. ILLINGWORTH: Absolutely.”

“PROFESSOR CHALLENGER: And you would accept that?”

“DR. ILLINGWORTH (laughing): Without a doubt.”

The atmosphere in the room shifted dramatically, creating a moment so intense that it would be hard to find anything like it in the annals of scientific gatherings. Professor Challenger raised his hand, signaling to our colleague, Mr. E. D. Malone, who promptly stood up and made his way to the back of the platform. Moments later, he returned, accompanied by a towering Black man, both of them struggling to carry a large, heavy packing case between them.

The audience fell silent, their eyes glued to the spectacle unfolding before them. With a swift motion, Professor Challenger slid off the top of the case. Peering inside, he snapped his fingers and called out in a coaxing tone, “Come on, pretty, pretty!”

Then, with a scratching and rattling noise, a grotesque creature emerged, settling itself on the edge of the box. The audience, frozen in shock, didn’t even flinch when the Duke of Durham unexpectedly tumbled into the orchestra pit. The creature’s face resembled the wildest gargoyle that a deranged medieval architect could have imagined. It was malicious and terrifying, with two small, glowing red eyes that shone like burning coals. Its long, savage mouth hung half-open, revealing a double row of shark-like teeth. Its shoulders were hunched, draped in what looked like a faded gray shawl. It was the embodiment of our childhood nightmares.

A wave of chaos swept through the audience—someone screamed, two ladies in the front row fainted, and there was a rush on the platform as people scrambled to follow their chairman into the orchestra pit. For a brief moment, panic threatened to erupt. Professor Challenger raised his hands to calm the crowd, but his movement startled the creature beside him. Suddenly, its strange shawl unfurled, transforming into a pair of leathery wings. The creature’s owner lunged for its legs, but it was too late.

With a powerful leap, the creature took flight, circling the Queen’s Hall with a dry, leathery flapping of its ten-foot wings, filling the room with a nauseating odor. The audience in the galleries gasped in horror as those glowing eyes and that menacing beak drew closer. The creature became agitated, flapping faster and faster, crashing against walls and chandeliers in a panic.

“Shut that window! For heaven’s sake, shut that window!” Professor Challenger shouted from the platform, his hands wringing in a frenzy of anxiety. But it was too late. The creature, flailing against the walls like a giant moth trapped in a lampshade, found the opening and squeezed its grotesque form through it, disappearing into the night.

With a heavy sigh of relief, the audience collectively exhaled as they realized the ordeal was finally over. Professor Challenger slumped back into his chair, burying his face in his hands.

Then—oh, how can one even begin to describe what happened next? The excitement of the crowd surged like a tidal wave, sweeping from the back of the hall, gaining momentum as it moved forward, engulfing the orchestra, overwhelming the stage, and lifting the four heroes high on its crest.

If the audience had initially held back, they certainly made up for it now. Everyone was on their feet, moving, shouting, gesturing wildly. A dense mass of cheering men surrounded the four travelers. “Lift them up! Lift them up!” cried a chorus of voices. In an instant, four figures were hoisted above the crowd. They struggled to break free, but the crowd held them firmly in their honored positions. It would have been nearly impossible to lower them if anyone had wanted to, so tightly packed was the throng around them.

“Regent Street! Regent Street!” echoed through the air. The crowd swirled, and a slow current began to carry the four on their shoulders toward the exit.

Outside, the scene was extraordinary. A gathering of no less than a hundred thousand people awaited them. The tightly packed throng stretched from the other side of the Langham Hotel to Oxford Circus. A roar of cheers erupted as the four adventurers emerged, elevated above the heads of the crowd, illuminated by the bright electric lights outside the hall. “A procession! A procession!” rang out.

In a solid line, blocking the streets from side to side, the crowd began to move, taking the route along Regent Street, Pall Mall, St. James's Street, and Piccadilly. The entire central traffic of London came to a standstill, resulting in numerous clashes between the demonstrators on one side and the police and taxi drivers on the other.

Finally, it wasn’t until after midnight that the four travelers were released at the entrance to Lord John Roxton's chambers in the Albany. The exuberant crowd, having sung “For They Are Jolly Good Fellows” in unison, concluded their celebration with “God Save the King.” Thus ended one of the most remarkable evenings London had seen in quite some time.

As for my friend Macdona, this can be taken as a fairly accurate, if somewhat embellished, account of the events. The main incident was a bewildering surprise for the audience, but not for us. You may recall how I first met Lord John Roxton when he donned his protective crinoline to fetch the “Devil's chick,” as he called it, for Professor Challenger. I’ve also hinted at the trouble we faced with the Professor’s baggage when we left the plateau. Had I described our journey in detail, I could have shared much about the hassle of coaxing our filthy companion’s appetite with putrid fish.

If I haven’t elaborated on it before, it’s because the Professor was adamant that no hint of the irrefutable evidence we carried should leak out until the moment came to confront his adversaries.

One last note about the London pterodactyl: nothing can be said for certain. Two terrified women claimed it perched on the roof of the Queen's Hall, remaining there like a sinister statue for hours. The following day, the evening papers reported that Private Miles of the Coldstream Guards had deserted his post outside Marlborough House and was facing court-martial. His explanation—that he dropped his rifle and fled down the Mall after seeing the devil between him and the moon—was dismissed by the Court, yet it might hold some relevance to the matter at hand.

The only other evidence I can provide comes from the log of the SS. Friesland, a Dutch-American liner, which stated that at nine the next morning, with Start Point ten miles off their starboard side, they were overtaken by something resembling a cross between a flying goat and a gigantic bat, heading south and west at an incredible speed. If it followed its instinct home, there’s no doubt that somewhere out in the vast Atlantic, the last European pterodactyl met its end.

And Gladys—oh, my Gladys!—Gladys of the mystical lake, now to be known as the Central, for I will never grant her the immortality she deserves through me. Didn’t I always sense a tough edge to her nature? Even when I was proud to follow her every command, didn’t I feel that it was a poor kind of love that could push a lover to the brink of death? In my truest thoughts, always circling back and then dismissed, I could see beyond her beauty, peering into her soul, where I discerned the twin shadows of selfishness and fickleness lurking in the background. Did she love the heroic and the spectacular for their own noble sake, or was it merely for the glory that could shine upon her without any effort or sacrifice? Or are these just the empty insights that come after the fact? It was a shock that turned my world upside down. For a moment, I became a cynic. But now, as I write this, a week has passed, and we’ve had our significant meeting with Lord John Roxton—and, well, perhaps things could be worse.

Let me summarize it briefly. No letter or telegram had reached me at Southampton, and I arrived at the little villa in Streatham around ten that night, consumed by anxiety. Was she dead or alive? Where were all my nightly dreams of her open arms, her smiling face, and her words of praise for the man who risked his life to indulge her whims? I was already back down from the high peaks, standing flat-footed on solid ground. Yet, if I could just hear some good news, perhaps I could soar back up again. I rushed down the garden path, pounded on the door, heard Gladys's voice from inside, pushed past the astonished maid, and strode into the sitting room. She was sitting on a low settee under the soft glow of the lamp by the piano. In three quick strides, I crossed the room and took both her hands in mine.

“Gladys!” I exclaimed, “Gladys!”

She looked up at me, her face a mix of surprise and something else. She had changed in some subtle way. The expression in her eyes, the hard upward glance, the tightness of her lips—everything felt new to me. She pulled her hands away.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Gladys!” I cried again. “What’s wrong? You are my Gladys, aren’t you—little Gladys Hungerton?”

“No,” she replied, “I’m Gladys Potts. Let me introduce you to my husband.”

How absurd life can be! I found myself mechanically bowing and shaking hands with a small, ginger-haired man who was curled up in the deep armchair that had once been my sanctuary. We exchanged awkward smiles.

“Father lets us stay here while we get our house ready,” Gladys said.

“Oh, right,” I replied.

“You didn’t get my letter at Para, then?” she asked.

“No, I didn’t receive any letter.”

“Oh, what a pity! It would have cleared everything up.”

“It’s quite clear,” I said.

“I’ve told William all about you,” she continued. “We have no secrets. I’m so sorry about this. But it couldn’t have been that serious, could it, if you could just leave for the other side of the world and leave me here alone? You’re not upset, are you?”

“No, no, not at all. I think I’ll be going.”

“Have some refreshments,” said the little man, adding in a conspiratorial tone, “It’s always like this, isn’t it? It must be, unless you had polygamy, only the other way around; you understand.” He laughed like a fool while I made my way to the door.

Just as I was about to leave, a sudden, ridiculous impulse struck me, and I turned back to my successful rival, who looked nervously at the electric doorbell.

“Will you answer a question?” I asked.

“Well, within reason,” he replied.

“How did you do it? Did you search for hidden treasure, discover a pole, serve time as a pirate, fly across the Channel, or what? Where’s the romance? How did you win her?”

He stared at me, a hopeless look on his vacant, good-natured, scruffy little face.

“Don’t you think this is a bit too personal?” he said.

“Well, just one question,” I insisted. “What do you do? What’s your profession?”

“I’m a solicitor’s clerk,” he said. “Second man at Johnson and Merivale’s, 41 Chancery Lane.”

“Goodnight!” I said, and vanished into the darkness, like any disheartened hero, with grief, rage, and laughter bubbling inside me like a boiling pot.

Just one more little scene, and I’ll be done. Last night, we all gathered for dinner at Lord John Roxton's place. Afterward, we settled in to smoke together, enjoying the camaraderie as we reminisced about our adventures. It felt strange to see those familiar faces in such changed surroundings. There was Challenger, wearing that condescending smile of his, his drooping eyelids and piercing eyes, his aggressive beard framing a chest that swelled as he laid down the law to Summerlee. And there was Summerlee, too, with his short briar pipe nestled between his thin mustache and gray goatee, his worn face leaning forward in eager debate as he challenged Challenger’s every proposition. Finally, our host, with his rugged, eagle-like features and cold blue eyes that always sparkled with a hint of mischief and humor. That’s the last image of them I carry with me.

It was after dinner, in his private sanctuary—the room glowing with a pink light and filled with countless trophies—that Lord John Roxton had something important to share with us. He pulled an old cigar box from a cupboard and placed it on the table.

“There’s something I should have mentioned earlier,” he began, “but I wanted to be sure of my facts before raising any hopes. No point in getting anyone excited only to let them down. But we’re dealing with facts now. Remember that day we found the pterodactyl rookery in the swamp? Well, something about the land caught my attention. You might have missed it, so let me explain. There was a volcanic vent filled with blue clay.” The professors nodded in understanding.

“Now, in all my travels, I’ve only encountered one place that was a volcanic vent of blue clay—the famous De Beers Diamond Mine in Kimberley. So naturally, diamonds came to mind. I set up a little contraption to keep those nasty creatures at bay and spent a delightful day digging around. This is what I found.”

He opened the cigar box and tipped it over, spilling about twenty or thirty rough stones onto the table, varying in size from beans to chestnuts.

“Maybe you think I should have told you about this sooner. I agree, but I know there are many traps for the unwary, and stones can be any size yet hold little value if their color and quality aren’t right. So, I brought them back, and on my first day home, I took one to Spink’s to have it roughly cut and appraised.”

He pulled a small pillbox from his pocket and poured out a stunning, glittering diamond—one of the finest I had ever seen.

“Here’s the result,” he said. “He values the lot at a minimum of two hundred thousand pounds. Of course, it’s fair shares among us. I won’t hear of anything else. So, Challenger, what will you do with your fifty thousand?”

“If you truly insist on your generous perspective,” the Professor replied, “I would establish a private museum, which has long been one of my dreams.”

“And you, Summerlee?”

“I would retire from teaching, allowing me the time to finalize my classification of the chalk fossils.”

“I’ll use my share,” Lord John Roxton said, “to fund a well-organized expedition and take another look at the old plateau. As for you, young fellow, I assume you’ll spend yours on getting married.”

“Not just yet,” I replied with a wry smile. “If you’ll have me, I think I’d rather join you.”

Lord Roxton didn’t say a word, but he reached across the table, extending a brown hand toward me.