It is imperative that now at once, while these stupendous events are still clear in my mind, Ishould set them down with that exactness of detail which time may blur. But even as I do so, Iam overwhelmed by the wonder of the fact that it should be our little group of the "LostWorld"-Professor Challenger, Professor Summerlee, Lord John Roxton, and myself-whohave passed through this amazing experience.When, some years ago, I chronicled in the Daily Gazette our epoch-making journey in SouthAmerica, I little thought that it should ever fall to my lot to tell an even stranger personalexperience, one which is unique in all human annals and must stand out in the records of historyas a great peak among the humble foothills which surround it. The event itself will always bemarvellous, but the circumstances that we four were together at the time of this extraordinaryepisode came about in a most natural and, indeed, inevitable fashion. I will explain the eventswhich led up to it as shortly and as clearly as I can, though I am well aware that the fuller thedetail upon such a subject the more welcome it will be to the reader, for the public curiosity hasbeen and still is insatiable.It was upon Friday, the twenty-seventh of August-a date forever memorable in the historyof the world-that I went down to the office of my paper and asked for three days' leave ofabsence from Mr. McArdle, who still presided over our news department. The good oldScotchman shook his head, scratched his dwindling fringe of ruddy fluff, and finally put hisreluctance into words."I was thinking, Mr. Malone, that we could employ you to advantage these days. I wasthinking there was a story that you are the only man that could handle as it should be handled.""I am sorry for that," said I, trying to hide my disappointment. "Of course if I am needed, there is an end of the matter. But the engagement was important and intimate. If I could bespared--""Well, I don't see that you can."It was bitter, but I had to put the best face I could upon it. After all, it was my own fault, for Ishould have known by this time that a journalist has no right to make plans of his own."Then I'll think no more of it," said I with as much cheerfulness as I could assume at so shorta notice. "What was it that you wanted me to do?""Well, it was just to interview that deevil of a man down at Rotherfield.""You don't mean Professor Challenger?" I cried.