"Arthur C. Doyle - The Poison Belt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Clarke Arthur C)

have a bit of a weakness for the old dear."

But Summerlee was in no humour for compromise. His face was
screwed up in rigid disapproval, and thick curls of angry smoke
rolled up from his pipe.

"As to you, Lord John Roxton," he creaked, "your opinion upon a
matter of science is of as much value in my eyes as my views
upon a new type of shot-gun would be in yours. I have my own
judgment, sir, and I use it in my own way. Because it has misled
me once, is that any reason why I should accept without
criticism anything, however far-fetched, which this man may care
to put forward? Are we to have a Pope of science, with
infallible decrees laid down _ex cathedra_, and accepted without
question by the poor humble public? I tell you, sir, that I have
a brain of my own and that I should feel myself to be a snob and
a slave if I did not use it. If it pleases you to believe this
rigmarole about ether and Fraunhofer's lines upon the spectrum,
do so by all means, but do not ask one who is older and wiser
than yourself to share in your folly. Is it not evident that if
the ether were affected to the degree which he maintains, and if
it were obnoxious to human health, the result of it would
already be apparent upon ourselves?" Here he laughed with
uproarious triumph over his own argument. "Yes, sir, we should
already be very far from our normal selves, and instead of
sitting quietly discussing scientific problems in a railway
train we should be showing actual symptoms of the poison which
was working within us. Where do we see any signs of this
poisonous cosmic disturbance? Answer me that, sir! Answer me
that! Come, come, no evasion! I pin you to an answer!"

I felt more and more angry. There was something very irritating
and aggressive in Summerlee's demeanour.

"I think that if you knew more about the facts you might be less
positive in your opinion," said I.

Summerlee took his pipe from his mouth and fixed me with a stony stare.

"Pray what do you mean, sir, by that somewhat impertinent observation?"

"I mean that when I was leaving the office the news editor told
me that a telegram had come in confirming the general illness of
the Sumatra natives, and adding that the lights had not been lit
in the Straits of Sunda."

"Really, there should be some limits to human folly!" cried
Summerlee in a positive fury. "Is it possible that you do not
realize that ether, if for a moment we adopt Challenger's
preposterous supposition, is a universal substance which is the