“Stop! stop! _Um Gottes Willen_, stop!” shrieked Rivarol. “I launched
my butcher this morning and I haven’t bolted the--”
But it was too late. I was upon the trap. It swung open with a crash,
and I was plunged down, down, down! I felt as though I were falling
through illimitable space. I remember wondering, as I rushed through
the darkness, whether I should reach Kerguellen’s Land or stop at
the center. It seemed an eternity. Then my course was suddenly and
painfully arrested.
I opened my eyes. Around me were the walls of Professor Surd’s
study. Under me was a hard, unyielding plane which I knew too well
was Professor Surd’s study floor. Behind me was the black, slippery
haircloth chair which had belched me forth much as the whale served
Jonah. In front of me stood Professor Surd himself, looking down with a
not unpleasant smile.
“Good evening, Mr. Furnace. Let me help you up. You look tired, sir.
No wonder you fell asleep when I kept you so long waiting. Shall I
get you a glass of wine? No? By the way, since receiving your letter
I find that you are a son of my old friend Judge Furnace. I have made
inquiries, and see no reason why you should not make Abscissa a good
husband.”
Still, I can see no reason why the Tachypomp should not have succeeded.
Can you?
[Illustration]
[Illustration: THE LANDSCAPE-PAINTER