But what were we to begin to do in that graveyard of a world?  Could ever men have been faced with such a question since the dawn of time?  It is true that our own physical needs, and even our luxuries, were assured for the future.  All the stores of food, all the vintages of wine, all the treasures of art were ours for the taking.  But what were we to do?  Some few tasks appealed to us at once, since they lay ready to our hands.  We descended into the kitchen and laid the two domestics upon their respective beds.  They seemed to have died without suffering, one in the chair by the fire, the other upon the scullery floor.  Then we carried in poor Austin from the yard.  His muscles were set as hard as a board in the most exaggerated rigor mortis, while the contraction of the fibres had drawn his mouth into a hard sardonic grin.  This symptom was prevalent among all who had died from the poison.  Wherever we went we were confronted by those grinning faces, which seemed to mock at our dreadful position, smiling silently and grimly at the ill-fated survivors of their race.

“Look here,” said Lord John, who had paced restlessly about the dining-room whilst we partook of some food, “I don’t know how you fellows feel about it, but for my part, I simply can’t sit here and do nothin’.”

“Perhaps,” Challenger answered, “you would have the kindness to suggest what you think we ought to do.”

“Get a move on us and see all that has happened.”

“That is what I should myself propose.”

“But not in this little country village.  We can see from the window all that this place can teach us.”

“Where should we go, then?”

“To London!”

“That’s all very well,” grumbled Summerlee.  “You may be equal to a forty-mile walk, but I’m not so sure about Challenger, with his stumpy legs, and I am perfectly sure about myself.”  Challenger was very much annoyed.

“If you could see your way, sir, to confining your remarks to your own physical peculiarities, you would find that you had an ample field for comment,” he cried.

“I had no intention to offend you, my dear Challenger,” cried our tactless friend, “You can’t be held responsible for your own physique.  If nature has given you a short, heavy body you cannot possibly help having stumpy legs.”

Challenger was too furious to answer.  He could only growl and blink and bristle.  Lord John hastened to intervene before the dispute became more violent.

“You talk of walking.  Why should we walk?” said he.

“Do you suggest taking a train?” asked Challenger, still simmering.

“What’s the matter with the motor-car?  Why should we not go in that?”

“I am not an expert,” said Challenger, pulling at his beard reflectively.  “At the same time, you are right in supposing that the human intellect in its higher manifestations should be sufficiently flexible to turn itself to anything.  Your idea is an excellent one, Lord John.  I myself will drive you all to London.”