Wells' lap. There was something wriggling around inside it. Wells sat perfectly still, afraid to move.
"What is it?" he said. "Not a snake? Moreau, you wouldn't—'•
"Open it and see."
Wells slowly untied the coat sleeves and unwrapped what was inside the coat.
He stared, bug-eyed, at the small, ungainly, reptilian-looking creature cradled inside Moreau's coat on his lap. it was a baby dinosaur.
"You have studied the biological sciences. Mr. Wells," said Moreau. "Perhaps you will recognize the creature as a baby sauropod. A Camarasaurus of the Upper Jurassic, to be exact. Have no fear, it cannot harm you. It is an herbivore. Its teeth and claws cannot injure you. I regret to say that you will not be able to watch it grow to its full size of 19.8 meters in length, with a weight that could reach as high as twenty-five tons. It will not live very long in this climate. It is far too cold for its constitution.''
Wells stared with disbelief at the shivering little great lizard in his lap. He touched it hesitantly. It looked somehow pathetic. "Take it back." he said. "Please."
"As you wish," Moreau said. He picked up the coat, wrapped it around the little dinosaur, and disappeared again, to reappear a moment later, even wetter with perspiration than before. "Convinced?" he said.
Wells leaned forward and put his head in his hands. "I think I would like another whiskey, please," he said.
Moreau poured him another glass and then changed into a fresh shin. Wells held the drink in a trembling hand. He sipped it slowly this time, trying to calm himself.
"So it's true, then." he said finally. "My God, One
c
an
travel through time!"
"Indeed, one can," Moreau said. "I have come from hundreds of years in the future. Mr. Wells. A future you shall write about one day."
"So
that
is what it was all about then," Wells said. "Those other three who came to see me—"
"What other three?" Moreau said sharply.
"The ones who told me about Nikolai Drakov," Wells said. "They said something about my story, 'The Chronic Argonauts' . . . they wanted to know if I had met him, if I had discussed the subject of future scientific developments such as biological experimentation—"
"What were their names?" said Moreau.
Wells sighed. "I have never been very good with names," he said. "It is surprising that I recalled this Professor Drakov's name. They were Americans. One of the three was a young woman. blond, quite fit and very striking looking, and the other two were men—"
"Was the woman's name Andre Cross, by any chance?" Moreau said.
"Yes, I do believe that was her name," said Wells.
"And the two men with her, Steiger and Delaney? One blond, hook-nosed, one with dark red hair, large, very muscular?"
"Yes, they are the ones!" said Wells. "They said they were scholars of some sort. Are they friends of yours?"
"Hardly friends," Moreau said. "They would not hesitate to kill me the moment they set eyes on me, in spite of which, I am enormously relieved to know that they are here."
"Why?" said Wells. "I understand none of this! What reason would they have to want you dead?"
"It is a long story," said Moreau, "but one that you must hear if I am to convince you of the danger we all face. It involves war, Mr. Wells. The greatest war of all time. A war to end all wars. And there is no telling how long it
may
last. It is even possible that it will never end. But first, you must meet the only other man who shares my secret. He may seem like an unlikely ally, but do not be deceived by his age or his appearance. He is a most unusual man. His name is Lin Tao . . ."
For a change, Ian Holcombe was glad for the help. It had been a long day and after working with Conan Doyle for several hours, he no longer had any qualms about "scribblers" in the crime lab.
"I owe you an apology, Doctor," Holcombe said as they were washing up and removing their aprons. Neilson handed them fresh towels. "About my behavior towards you earlier—"
"Think nothing
"What is it?" he said. "Not a snake? Moreau, you wouldn't—'•
"Open it and see."
Wells slowly untied the coat sleeves and unwrapped what was inside the coat.
He stared, bug-eyed, at the small, ungainly, reptilian-looking creature cradled inside Moreau's coat on his lap. it was a baby dinosaur.
"You have studied the biological sciences. Mr. Wells," said Moreau. "Perhaps you will recognize the creature as a baby sauropod. A Camarasaurus of the Upper Jurassic, to be exact. Have no fear, it cannot harm you. It is an herbivore. Its teeth and claws cannot injure you. I regret to say that you will not be able to watch it grow to its full size of 19.8 meters in length, with a weight that could reach as high as twenty-five tons. It will not live very long in this climate. It is far too cold for its constitution.''
Wells stared with disbelief at the shivering little great lizard in his lap. He touched it hesitantly. It looked somehow pathetic. "Take it back." he said. "Please."
"As you wish," Moreau said. He picked up the coat, wrapped it around the little dinosaur, and disappeared again, to reappear a moment later, even wetter with perspiration than before. "Convinced?" he said.
Wells leaned forward and put his head in his hands. "I think I would like another whiskey, please," he said.
Moreau poured him another glass and then changed into a fresh shin. Wells held the drink in a trembling hand. He sipped it slowly this time, trying to calm himself.
"So it's true, then." he said finally. "My God, One
c
an
travel through time!"
"Indeed, one can," Moreau said. "I have come from hundreds of years in the future. Mr. Wells. A future you shall write about one day."
"So
that
is what it was all about then," Wells said. "Those other three who came to see me—"
"What other three?" Moreau said sharply.
"The ones who told me about Nikolai Drakov," Wells said. "They said something about my story, 'The Chronic Argonauts' . . . they wanted to know if I had met him, if I had discussed the subject of future scientific developments such as biological experimentation—"
"What were their names?" said Moreau.
Wells sighed. "I have never been very good with names," he said. "It is surprising that I recalled this Professor Drakov's name. They were Americans. One of the three was a young woman. blond, quite fit and very striking looking, and the other two were men—"
"Was the woman's name Andre Cross, by any chance?" Moreau said.
"Yes, I do believe that was her name," said Wells.
"And the two men with her, Steiger and Delaney? One blond, hook-nosed, one with dark red hair, large, very muscular?"
"Yes, they are the ones!" said Wells. "They said they were scholars of some sort. Are they friends of yours?"
"Hardly friends," Moreau said. "They would not hesitate to kill me the moment they set eyes on me, in spite of which, I am enormously relieved to know that they are here."
"Why?" said Wells. "I understand none of this! What reason would they have to want you dead?"
"It is a long story," said Moreau, "but one that you must hear if I am to convince you of the danger we all face. It involves war, Mr. Wells. The greatest war of all time. A war to end all wars. And there is no telling how long it
may
last. It is even possible that it will never end. But first, you must meet the only other man who shares my secret. He may seem like an unlikely ally, but do not be deceived by his age or his appearance. He is a most unusual man. His name is Lin Tao . . ."
For a change, Ian Holcombe was glad for the help. It had been a long day and after working with Conan Doyle for several hours, he no longer had any qualms about "scribblers" in the crime lab.
"I owe you an apology, Doctor," Holcombe said as they were washing up and removing their aprons. Neilson handed them fresh towels. "About my behavior towards you earlier—"
"Think nothing
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