Sherlock Holmes's War of the Worlds by Manly Wade Wellman & Wade Wellman

Author:Manly Wade Wellman & Wade Wellman [Wellman, Manly Wade & Wellman, Wade]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Science Fiction, Fantasy, Suspense
ISBN: 9780446769822
Publisher: Warner Books
Published: 1975-08-31T22:00:00+00:00

16

A stringily built man stood there, hands in his trousers pockets, gazing gloomily seaward.

“I saw you come back when you ‘ad a chance to leave, sir.” he said as Challenger came near. “Might I ask why?”

Challenger surveyed the speaker. He saw an active figure, clad in a smudged army shirt, breeches, and scuffed boots, with a gaunt stubbled face.

“You presume, I think,” he said in tones like the bass of an organ. “However, I shall tell you why I did not go. The war is going to be fought here, and I am going to help fight it. That’s enough for you.”

He moved past as though to go inland but stopped when the other raised a sort of protesting cry.

“War, sir? Help fight a war? We can’t fight them, we’re beat!”

Challenger turned, beard thrust out aggressively.

“I was in Surrey,” stammered the fellow. “I saw us beat!”

“You seem to have accepted the fact very decisively,” said Challenger in cold, measured tones. “I have heard how a sea captain, one John Paul Jones, said in a similar critical situation that he had just begun to fight. Your words and behavior, my good man, suggest that you do scant credit to the vestings of the uniform you wear.” He drew himself up grandly. “I take leave to inform you that I am Professor George Edward Challenger.”

But the name seemed to mean nothing whatever to the trembling soldier.

“My name’s Tovey, sir, Luke Tovey,” he said in his turn. “I am—I was—a trooper of the Eighth Hussars. I saw the fighting on Sunday. Our artillery got one of them—just one, a shell right in the ugly face of one of their machines—before their heat-ray wiped the battery out entire. I got away to London and had a ride here in a dray. But no money, not a shilling, for a ship to sail on, and I’m wonderin’ what is to happen to us all.” He flung out his hands. “The Martians are goin’ to kill us all, every mother’s son and daughter!”

“Not all, I can assure you. I have been able to learn something of their plans for humanity. And now, Tovey, I bid you a very good morning.”

Again he stalked away toward the tree-tufted hill which he and Mrs. Challenger had passed on their way to the beach. Tovey came trotting after him.

“You’ve got a plan, sir—Professor, you called yourself. You’ve thought about it. Won’t you tell me what you think?”

“Thinking is a process with which a dismaying majority of the human race is utterly unfamiliar,” returned Challenger bleakly. “It demands recognition of a state of affairs, an estimate of its directions and effects, and a sane decision on how to deal with it. I am in the midst of these considerations at present, and I will be obliged if you do not interrupt my mental processes.”

On he walked, and toward the hill. A sort of lane, steep but well worked, led up its rocky side. With considerable assurance he followed it and made his way to the top.

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