I had expected the Professor to reply with some monstrous outburst but to my intense surprise he merely threw back his bearded head and bellowed with laughter like a bull.
‘You never disappoint me, Van Damm,’ he chuckled at length. He glanced over at me. ‘Mark my words, my dear fellow, we shall have an admirable expedition.’
Then he rang for Collins to clear the table and we all went back into the hall.
‘While the doctor is demolishing a few more pear trees I daresay you’d like to come and meet the remainder of your colleagues,’ Scarsdale said smoothly. ‘You’ll find them much more amiable.’
His latter remark was within Van Damm’s hearing; the tall man stood with his feet planted apart at one side of the hall and I was even more surprised when I saw him smile appreciatively at the Professor’s disparaging comment. I began to understand the two men a little better as I followed the Professor out onto the front drive; he led the way around the house, our feet crunching in the gravel, until we came to a cobbled courtyard and a sort of stable, together with a group of outbuildings. From the latter came the low hum of machinery.
In the centre of the courtyard was standing one of the strange grey machines I had already seen being demonstrated by Van Damm in the orchard below the house. The Professor looked at me keenly but there was no faltering in his even stride.
‘There’ll be time for that later,’ he said. ‘We have a lot to do this afternoon and you’ll not be wanting to get back to town too late.’
I protested that I had all the time in the world, my previous reservations quite forgotten, so exciting and unusual did I find this new world, with its sense of mysterious purpose and urgency. Most of this, like an electric current, was flowing from the figure of the Professor himself, of course, and I was later to find that he affected almost everyone in the same way; even Van Damm was not immune, though he had learned to disguise his true feelings with an air of bickering criticism.
At a long bench in the interior of the workshop two men were sitting. The older looked round as we entered and a broad smiled spread across his face. He jumped up impulsively and said to Scarsdale, ‘You were right, Professor. The wavelength made all the difference. I’ve ironed out the difficulties.’
The Professor smiled and turned to me, making the formal introductions.
‘This is Norman Holden. Apart from being an excellent historian, he’s our radio expert. Van Damm will be responsible for maintaining the tractors.’
Holden was a man of about fifty-five, of medium height and stockily built; he had even white teeth, a rather fleshy mouth and broad-set eyes of a deep brown. He had character and good humour in his face and I liked him immediately.
The other man at the end of the bench got up and came towards us. Geoffrey Prescott was about forty-five; an expert linguist and specialist in Egyptology, he also had his strictly practical side. He would attend to map-making and cooking on the expedition and could apply his talents in a number of other directions. Fortunately, Scarsdale himself was also a doctor of medicine and could deal with any serious ills which might befall our little band.
Prescott, I later understood from Scarsdale had helped decipher something of the hieroglyphs which had so intrigued the Professor and which had been the means of our meeting. Just now he excused himself from joining in our conversation; his current work demanded all his attention if the expedition was to get away on time. He looked at Scarsdale with an enthusiastic smile as he spoke and with a wave of his hand went back to the end of the bench. Scarsdale said nothing but got out a blackened old pipe from his pocket and bit at its yellow stem.
We had been walking round the workshop and found ourselves near the door to the yard; there was another vast shed, like an aeroplane hangar adjoining and Scarsdale now put his bull-like shoulder to a sliding door and slid it shudderingly back. He moved about ahead of me, switching on lights.
‘Excellent people, Prescott and Holden,’ he said succinctly. ‘One couldn’t wish for better companions. You’ll fit in well, I think.’
I stood blinking in the sudden glare of light from the banks of powerful reflectors set in the ceiling girders. Before me were two of the great grey tractor vehicles; these, unlike the one I had seen in the yard and the other in the orchard earlier, were shining with new paint and carried registration numbers. Both bore the stencilled black lettering, GREAT NORTHERN EXPEDITION. Number 1, I saw was labelled Command Vehicle and had Scarsdale’s name beneath. Number 2, bore Dr Van Damm’s name as commander. Numbers three and four would be accompanying us as reserve vehicles, explained Scarsdale, ushering me up the light metal steps into his own craft.
Once inside the sliding doors, the Professor switched on the interior lighting and showed me his domain with somewhat justifiable pride.
‘We have developed these vehicles between the four of us, to overcome certain difficulties I have already encountered,’ said the Professor. ‘A new principle of friction-drive is incorporated in the tractor units. Van Damm, whatever his faults in other directions, was invaluable here. He also developed a new type of long-life heavy duty battery, which we are able to re-charge en route.’
As he spoke, he showed me round the interior of the craft which seemed to me extremely ingenious and spacious. The control room, which had observation windows masked by sliding metal shutters, also incorporated a sort of chart-table and a rack for all the Professor’s books and instruments.
Beyond was a bedroom which could sleep three crew-members in comfort; beyond that again a small galley fully equipped for cooking. There was even a minute toilet and shower stall and wash-basin.
‘The other tractors are identical,’ said the Professor, ‘so that if something happens to one we can merely change over without difficulties of any sort.’
He paused before he went on.
‘You have no objection to learning to handle the machine, I suppose?’
‘I should be delighted,’ I said. ‘I intend to make myself fully useful in addition to my photographic duties.’
‘I ask for a particular reason,’ Scarsdale said. ‘The machines will go with us by sea in the first instance, of course. To get them to our destination means that we must have a driver for each. That commits four out of five, with one man acting as cook and reserve driver. So you can see we shall need the help of everyone.’
‘You won’t be engaging the help of any porters?’ I said.
The Professor shook his head.
‘You will see the reason why in due course,’ he replied. ‘We must have another two months in England before embarking. As you have seen, Van Damm is still far from perfect at piloting these things and I’m sure you’ll want to be thoroughly conversant before taking over.’
I agreed. Then another thought struck me.
‘As I’m to be the official photographer, ought I not to record some of these preparations on film?’ I said. ‘I have my equipment outside and would be delighted to start this afternoon.’
The Professor looked pleased but then his face clouded over. He put his hand on my shoulder.
‘I’m sure you won’t take this amiss, my dear fellow, but I must rely on your discretion.’
‘I’m not quite sure I follow you,’ I replied.
The Professor operated the mechanism which let down the shutters from in front of the forward windows. There was the hum of electric motors in this warm little world which seemed remote from the wet Surrey countryside about us.
‘This is a highly secret project,’ Scarsdale continued. ‘I’m at great pains that it should remain so. If the press should get wind of it, there might be difficulties involved in the country for which we are heading. So your prints must be shown to no-one but myself and your colleagues here.’