aggressive nose.

"Friend Challenger is a clever man," said he with great
vehemence. "No one can deny it. It's a fool that denies it.
Look at his hat. There's a sixty-ounce brain inside it--a big
engine, running smooth, and turning out clean work. Show me
the engine-house and I'll tell you the size of the engine.
But he is a born charlatan--you've heard me tell him so to
his face--a born charlatan, with a kind of dramatic trick of
jumping into the limelight. Things are quiet, so friend
Challenger sees a chance to set the public talking about him.
You don't imagine that he seriously believes all this
nonsense about a change in the ether and a danger to the
human race? Was ever such a cock-and-bull story in this life?"

He sat like an old white raven, croaking and shaking with
sardonic laughter.

A wave of anger passed through me as I listened to Summerlee.
It was disgraceful that he should speak thus of the leader
who had been the source of all our fame and given us such an
experience as no men have ever enjoyed. I had opened my mouth
to utter some hot retort, when Lord John got before me.

"You had a scrap once before with old man Challenger," said
he sternly, "and you were down and out inside ten seconds. It
seems to me, Professor Summerlee, he's beyond your class, and
the best you can do with him is to walk wide and leave him
alone."