Dragons Teeth Crichton 2017 (WWT)

“He sounds a complete criminal.”
Marsh shot him a look. “You don’t believe me?”
“I believe you, Professor.”
“Also, personal hygiene is not his strong point. The man is odiferous and unsanitary. But I’ve no
wish to be personal.”
“No, Professor.”
“The fact is he is unscrupulous and untrustworthy in the extreme. There was a landgrab and mineral
rights scandal. That’s why he was kicked out of the Geological Survey.”
“He was kicked out of the Geological Survey?”
“Years ago. You don’t believe me?”
“I believe you, Professor.”
“Well, you don’t look like you believe me.”
“I believe you,” Johnson insisted. “I believe you.”
There was a silence. The train clattered on. Marsh cleared his throat. “Do you know Professor
Cope, by any chance?”
“No, I don’t.”
“I thought perhaps you did.”
“No, Professor.”
“If you did know him, you would feel better if you told me all about it now,” Marsh said. “Instead
of waiting.”
“If I did, Professor,” Johnson said, “I would. But I do not know the man.”
“Yes,” Marsh said, studying Johnson’s face. “Hmmm.”
Later that day, Johnson met a painfully thin young man making notes in a small leather-bound book.
He was from Scotland and said his name was Louis Stevenson.
“How far are you going?” Johnson asked.
“All the way to the end. California,” Stevenson said, lighting another cigarette. He smoked
continually; his long, delicate fingers were stained dark brown. He coughed a great deal, and in
general did not look like the sort of robust person who seeks a journey west, and Johnson asked him
why he was doing so.
“I am in love,” Stevenson said simply. “She is in California.”
And then he made more notes, and seemed to forget Johnson for a time. Johnson went off in search
of more congenial company, and came across Marsh.
“That young man there,” Marsh said, nodding across the carriage.
“What about him?”
“You were talking to him.”
“His name is Stevenson.”
“I don’t trust a man who makes notes,” Marsh said. “What did you talk about?”
“He’s from Scotland and he is going to California to find a woman he is in love with.”
“How romantic. And did he ask you where you were going?”
“No, he wasn’t the least interested.”
Marsh squinted at him. “So he says.”