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Our knocker advertised no dun. Our lawn remained untrodden by hob-nailed boots. By lunch-time I had come to the conclusion that the expected Trouble would not occur that day, and I felt that I might well leave my post for the afternoon, while I went to the professor's to pay my respects. The professor was out when I arrived.
What kind is it?" screamed Bess Bangem, who was the Professor's companion, as her light trout-pole bent from a sudden tug, and the reel whirred as the line ran off. "Stop him, hold on to him, wind him in, and I will tell you," answered the Professor, laughing.
To be sure the circumstances had in no wise changed as to his personal danger, but beyond the important fact that there were now others to endure it with him, he seemed able to forget it in a strange, unauthorized sense of victory. It came from the professor's quavers. Meanwhile he had forgotten the dragoman, but he recalled him in time to bid him wait.
"It doesn't look very promising at first sight," I remarked. "What is the Professor's theory?" "His theory provisionally, of course is that the words form the message, and the groups of letters represent mere filled-up spaces between the words." "But surely," I protested, "that would be a very transparent device." Thorndyke laughed.
It was such that Number Thirteen faced as he emerged from the professor's apartment. "What do you want here?" he said, addressing Number Twelve, who stood a little in advance of the others. "We have come for Maxon," growled the creature. "We have been penned up long enough. We want to be out here. We have come to kill Maxon and you and all who have made us what we are."
Hope was glad to hear that Lucy had secured the Professor's consent that they should be present, for the mystery of Bolton's terrible death was piquing him, and he dearly desired to learn the truth. As a matter of fact, although he was unaware of it, he was suffering from an attack of detective fever, and wished to solve the mystery. He therefore went gladly into the museum with his sweetheart.
Ernest surprised everyone by suggesting that possibly humanity was well served, in the long run, by reminding it of the responsibility that goes with power, and by giving it an object lesson in the decent treatment of those who can't defend themselves. "You must have sat at the Professor's feet," cried Miss Du Prel, raising her eyebrows. "I have," said Ernest, with a little gesture of pride.
"Frantic frogs of France, if the professor's tumbled into a well he may be in serious trouble." They set off on the run to where a pile of stones showed a well-curb had once been. The hoards at the top, which had covered it over, had rotted, and there was a jagged hole in them. Jack cautiously bent over and placed his mouth at the edge of the hole. "Professor, are you down there?" he hailed.
The reviewers of the mathematical journals when this book first came out agreed that "Professor Murray's views on the Calculus were the most daring yet published." They said, too, that they hoped that the professor's unsound theories of infinitesimal rectitude would not remain unchallenged.
Just then the man of science was seen to put his rifle quickly to the shoulder; the arches of the forest rang with a loud report; various horrified creatures were seen and heard to scamper away, and next moment a middle-sized orang-utan came crashing through the branches of a tall tree and fell dead with a heavy thud on the ground. The professor's rifle was a breechloader.
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