October 20, 2025 • 13 mins
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter two. I think that at the time none of
us quite believed in the time machine. The fact is,
the time traveler was one of those men who are
too clever to be believed. You never felt that you
saw all round him. You always suspected some subtle reserve,
some ingenuity in ambush behind his lucid frankness. Had Philby
(00:25):
shown the model and explained the matter in the time
Traveler's words, we should have shown him far less skepticism,
for we should have perceived his motives. A pork butcher
could understand Philby. But the time Traveler had more than
a touch of whim among his elements, and we distrusted him.
(00:45):
Things that would have made the frame of a less
clever man seemed tricks in his hands. It is a
mistake to do things too easily. The serious people who
took him seriously never felt quite sure of his deportment.
They were somehow aware that trusting their reputations for judgment
with him was like furnishing a nursery with egg shell china.
(01:09):
So I didn't think any of us said very much
about time traveling in the interval between that Thursday and
the next, though its odd potentialities ran no doubt in
most of our minds its plausibility, that is, its practical incredibleness,
the curious possibilities of an acronism, and of utter confusion,
it suggested. For my own part, I was particularly preoccupied
(01:35):
with the trick of the model that I remember discussing
with the medical man, whom I met on Friday at
the Linnaean. He said he had seen a similar thing
at Tubingen and laid considerable stress on the blowing out
of the candle, but how the trick was done he
could not explain. The next Thursday, I went again to Richmond.
(01:58):
I suppose I was one of the time Traveler's most
constant guests, and arriving late, found four or five men
already assembled in his drawing room. The medical man was
standing before the fire with a sheet of paper in
one hand and his watch in the other. I looked
around for the time Traveler. And it's half past seven now,
(02:20):
said the medical man. I suppose we'd better have dinner.
Where's said I, naming our host. You've just come. It's
rather odd. He's unavoidably detained. He asks me in this
note to lead off with dinner at seven. If he's
not back, says he'll explain when he comes. It seems
(02:42):
a pity to let the dinner spoil, said the editor
of a well known daily paper, and thereupon the doctor
rang the bell. The psychologist was the only person besides
the doctor and myself who had attended the previous dinner.
The other men were blank. The editor aforementioned, a certain journalist,
(03:03):
and another a quiet, shy man with a beard, whom
I didn't know, and who, as far as my observation went,
never opened his mouth. All the evening there was some
speculation at the dinner table about the time traveler's absence,
and I suggested time traveling in a half jocular spirit.
(03:24):
The editor wanted that explain to him, and the psychologist
volunteered a wooden account of the ingenious paradox and trick
we had witnessed that day week. He was in the
midst of his exposition when the door from the corridor
opened slowly and without noise. I was facing the door
and saw it first. Hello, I said, at last, and
(03:48):
the door opened wider, and the time traveler stood before us.
I gave a cry of surprise. Good heavens man, what's
the matter, cried the medical man. Who saw him next.
When the whole tableful turned towards the door, he was
in an amazing plight. His coat was dusty and dirty
and smeared with green down the sleeves. His hair disordered and,
(04:12):
as it seemed to me, grayer, either with dust and
dirt or because its color had actually faded. His face
was ghastly pale. His chin had a brown cut on it,
a cut half heeled. His expression was haggard and drawn
as by intense suffering. For a moment, he hesitated in
(04:33):
the doorway, as if he had been dazzled by the light.
Then he came into the room. He walked with just
such a limp as I have seen in footsore traps.
We stared at him in silence, expecting him to speak.
He said not a word, but came painfully to the
table and made a motion towards the wine. The editor
(04:57):
filled a glass of champagne and pushed it towards him.
He drained it, and it seemed to do him good,
for he looked round the table and the ghost of
his old smile flickered across his face. What on earth
have you been up to, man, said the doctor. The
time traveler did not seem to hear. Don't let me
(05:18):
disturb you, he said, with a certain faltering articulation. I'm
all right. He stopped, held out his glass for more,
and took it off at a draft. That's good, he said.
His eyes grew brighter, and a faint color came into
his cheeks. His glance flickered over our faces with a
certain dull approval, and then went round the warm and
(05:41):
comfortable room. Then he spoke again, still as it were,
feeling his way among his words, I'm going to wash
and dress, and then i'll come down and explain things.
Save me some of that mutton. I'm starving for a
bit of meat. He looked across at the editor, who
was a rare visitor, and hoped he was all right.
(06:04):
The editor began a question. Tell you, presently, said the
time traveler. I'm funny. I'll be right in a minute.
He put down his glass and walked towards the staircase door. Again.
I remarked his lameness and the soft padding sound of
his footfall, and standing up in my place, I saw
(06:26):
his feet as he went out. He had nothing on
them but a pair of tattered, blood stained socks. Then
the door closed upon him. I had half a mind
to follow till I remembered how he detested any fuss
about himself. For a minute, perhaps my mind was wool gathering.
(06:47):
Then remarkable behavior of an eminent scientist. I heard the
editor say, thinking after his wont in headlines, and this
brought my attention back to the bright dinner table. What's
the game, said the journalist. Has he been doing the
amateur cadger, I don't follow. I met the eye of
(07:09):
the psychologist and read my own interpretation in his face.
I thought of the time traveler limping painfully upstairs. I
don't think any one else had noticed his lameness. The
first to recover completely from this surprise was the medical
man who rang the bell. The time traveler hated to
have servants waiting at dinner for a hot plate. At
(07:33):
that the editor turned to his knife and fork with
a grunt, and the silent man followed suit. The dinner
was resumed. Conversation was exclamatory for a little while, with
gaps of wonderment, and then the editor got fervent in
his curiosity. Does our friend eke out his modest income
(07:53):
with a crossing? Or has he his nebuchadnazar phases, he inquired.
I feel assured. It's this business of the time machine,
I said, and took up the psychologist's account of our
previous meeting. The new guests were frankly incredulous. The editor
raised objections, what was this time traveling? A man couldn't
(08:18):
cover himself with dust by rolling in a paradox, could he?
And then, as the idea came home to him, he
resorted to caricature. Hadn't he any clothes brushes in the future.
The journalist, too, would not believe at any price, and
join the editor in the easy work of heaping ridicule
on the whole thing. They were both the new kind
(08:40):
of journalist, very joyous, irreverent young men. Our special correspondent
in the Day after Tomorrow reports the journalist was saying,
or rather shouting, when the time traveler came back. He
was dressed in ordinary evening clothes, and nothing save his
haggard look remained of change that had startled me, I say,
(09:03):
said the editor, hilariously, these chaps here say you have
been traveling into the middle of next week. Tell us
all about little Roseberry. Will you? What will you take
for the lot. The time traveler came to the place
reserved for him without a word. He smiled quietly in
his old way. Where's my mutton? He said, What a
(09:25):
treat it is to stick a fork into meat again,
Story cried the editor. Story be damned, said the time traveler.
I want something to eat. I won't say a word
until I get some peptone into my arteries. Thanks and
the salt. One word, said I have you been time traveling? Yes,
(09:49):
said the time traveler, with his mouth full, nodding his head.
I'd give a shilling a line for a verbatim note,
said the editor. The time traveler pushed his glass towards
the sight silet man and rang it with his finger nail,
at which the silent man, who had been staring at
his face, started convulsively and poured in wine. The rest
(10:10):
of the dinner was uncomfortable for my own part. Sudden
questions kept rising to my lips, and I dare say
it was the same with the others. The journalist tried
to relieve the tension by telling anecdotes of Hetty Potter.
The time traveler devoted his attention to his dinner and
displayed the appetite of a trap. The medical man smoked
(10:33):
a cigarette and watched the time traveler through his eyelashes.
The silent man seemed even more clumsy than usual, and
drank champagne with regularity and determination out of sheer nervousness.
At last, the time traveler pushed his plate away and
looked round us. I suppose I must apologize, he said,
(10:56):
I was simply starving. I've had a most amazing time.
He reached out his hand for a cigar and cut
the end. But come into the smoking room. It's too
long a story to tell. Over greasy plates and ringing
the bell. In passing, he led the way into the
adjoining room. You have told blank and dash and chose
(11:17):
about the machine, he said to me, leaning back in
his easy chair and naming the three new guests. But
the thing's a mere paradox, said the editor. I can't
argue tonight. I don't mind telling you the story, but
I can't argue. I will, he went on, tell you
the story of what has happened to me, if you like,
(11:40):
but you must refrain from interruptions. I want to tell
it badly. Most of it will sound like lying, so
be it. It's true. Every word of it all the same.
I was in my laboratory at four o'clock, and since
then I've lived a days, such days as no human
(12:03):
being ever lived before. I'm nearly worn out, but I
shan't sleep till I've told this thing over to you.
Then I shall go to bed. But no interruptions. Is
it agreed? Agreed? Said the editor, and the rest of
us echoed. Agreed. And with that the time traveler began
(12:25):
his story, as I've set it forth. He sat back
in his chair at first, and spoke like a weary man. Afterwards,
he got more animated in writing it down. I feel,
with only too much keenness, the inadequacy of pen and ink,
and above all my own inadequacy to express its quality.
(12:46):
You read, I will suppose attentively enough. But you cannot
see the speaker's white, sincere face in the bright circle
of the little lamp, nor hear the intonation of his voice.
Cannot know how his expression followed the turns of his story.
Most of us hearers were in shadow, for the candles
(13:08):
in the smoking room had not been lighted, and only
the face of the journalist and the legs of the
silent man from the knees downward were illuminated. At first,
we glanced now and again at each other. After a time,
we ceased to do that and looked only at the
time traveler's face. End of Chapter two.
Chapter two. I think that at the time none of
us quite believed in the time machine. The fact is,
the time traveler was one of those men who are
too clever to be believed. You never felt that you
saw all round him. You always suspected some subtle reserve,
some ingenuity in ambush behind his lucid frankness. Had Philby
(00:25):
shown the model and explained the matter in the time
Traveler's words, we should have shown him far less skepticism,
for we should have perceived his motives. A pork butcher
could understand Philby. But the time Traveler had more than
a touch of whim among his elements, and we distrusted him.
(00:45):
Things that would have made the frame of a less
clever man seemed tricks in his hands. It is a
mistake to do things too easily. The serious people who
took him seriously never felt quite sure of his deportment.
They were somehow aware that trusting their reputations for judgment
with him was like furnishing a nursery with egg shell china.
(01:09):
So I didn't think any of us said very much
about time traveling in the interval between that Thursday and
the next, though its odd potentialities ran no doubt in
most of our minds its plausibility, that is, its practical incredibleness,
the curious possibilities of an acronism, and of utter confusion,
it suggested. For my own part, I was particularly preoccupied
(01:35):
with the trick of the model that I remember discussing
with the medical man, whom I met on Friday at
the Linnaean. He said he had seen a similar thing
at Tubingen and laid considerable stress on the blowing out
of the candle, but how the trick was done he
could not explain. The next Thursday, I went again to Richmond.
(01:58):
I suppose I was one of the time Traveler's most
constant guests, and arriving late, found four or five men
already assembled in his drawing room. The medical man was
standing before the fire with a sheet of paper in
one hand and his watch in the other. I looked
around for the time Traveler. And it's half past seven now,
(02:20):
said the medical man. I suppose we'd better have dinner.
Where's said I, naming our host. You've just come. It's
rather odd. He's unavoidably detained. He asks me in this
note to lead off with dinner at seven. If he's
not back, says he'll explain when he comes. It seems
(02:42):
a pity to let the dinner spoil, said the editor
of a well known daily paper, and thereupon the doctor
rang the bell. The psychologist was the only person besides
the doctor and myself who had attended the previous dinner.
The other men were blank. The editor aforementioned, a certain journalist,
(03:03):
and another a quiet, shy man with a beard, whom
I didn't know, and who, as far as my observation went,
never opened his mouth. All the evening there was some
speculation at the dinner table about the time traveler's absence,
and I suggested time traveling in a half jocular spirit.
(03:24):
The editor wanted that explain to him, and the psychologist
volunteered a wooden account of the ingenious paradox and trick
we had witnessed that day week. He was in the
midst of his exposition when the door from the corridor
opened slowly and without noise. I was facing the door
and saw it first. Hello, I said, at last, and
(03:48):
the door opened wider, and the time traveler stood before us.
I gave a cry of surprise. Good heavens man, what's
the matter, cried the medical man. Who saw him next.
When the whole tableful turned towards the door, he was
in an amazing plight. His coat was dusty and dirty
and smeared with green down the sleeves. His hair disordered and,
(04:12):
as it seemed to me, grayer, either with dust and
dirt or because its color had actually faded. His face
was ghastly pale. His chin had a brown cut on it,
a cut half heeled. His expression was haggard and drawn
as by intense suffering. For a moment, he hesitated in
(04:33):
the doorway, as if he had been dazzled by the light.
Then he came into the room. He walked with just
such a limp as I have seen in footsore traps.
We stared at him in silence, expecting him to speak.
He said not a word, but came painfully to the
table and made a motion towards the wine. The editor
(04:57):
filled a glass of champagne and pushed it towards him.
He drained it, and it seemed to do him good,
for he looked round the table and the ghost of
his old smile flickered across his face. What on earth
have you been up to, man, said the doctor. The
time traveler did not seem to hear. Don't let me
(05:18):
disturb you, he said, with a certain faltering articulation. I'm
all right. He stopped, held out his glass for more,
and took it off at a draft. That's good, he said.
His eyes grew brighter, and a faint color came into
his cheeks. His glance flickered over our faces with a
certain dull approval, and then went round the warm and
(05:41):
comfortable room. Then he spoke again, still as it were,
feeling his way among his words, I'm going to wash
and dress, and then i'll come down and explain things.
Save me some of that mutton. I'm starving for a
bit of meat. He looked across at the editor, who
was a rare visitor, and hoped he was all right.
(06:04):
The editor began a question. Tell you, presently, said the
time traveler. I'm funny. I'll be right in a minute.
He put down his glass and walked towards the staircase door. Again.
I remarked his lameness and the soft padding sound of
his footfall, and standing up in my place, I saw
(06:26):
his feet as he went out. He had nothing on
them but a pair of tattered, blood stained socks. Then
the door closed upon him. I had half a mind
to follow till I remembered how he detested any fuss
about himself. For a minute, perhaps my mind was wool gathering.
(06:47):
Then remarkable behavior of an eminent scientist. I heard the
editor say, thinking after his wont in headlines, and this
brought my attention back to the bright dinner table. What's
the game, said the journalist. Has he been doing the
amateur cadger, I don't follow. I met the eye of
(07:09):
the psychologist and read my own interpretation in his face.
I thought of the time traveler limping painfully upstairs. I
don't think any one else had noticed his lameness. The
first to recover completely from this surprise was the medical
man who rang the bell. The time traveler hated to
have servants waiting at dinner for a hot plate. At
(07:33):
that the editor turned to his knife and fork with
a grunt, and the silent man followed suit. The dinner
was resumed. Conversation was exclamatory for a little while, with
gaps of wonderment, and then the editor got fervent in
his curiosity. Does our friend eke out his modest income
(07:53):
with a crossing? Or has he his nebuchadnazar phases, he inquired.
I feel assured. It's this business of the time machine,
I said, and took up the psychologist's account of our
previous meeting. The new guests were frankly incredulous. The editor
raised objections, what was this time traveling? A man couldn't
(08:18):
cover himself with dust by rolling in a paradox, could he?
And then, as the idea came home to him, he
resorted to caricature. Hadn't he any clothes brushes in the future.
The journalist, too, would not believe at any price, and
join the editor in the easy work of heaping ridicule
on the whole thing. They were both the new kind
(08:40):
of journalist, very joyous, irreverent young men. Our special correspondent
in the Day after Tomorrow reports the journalist was saying,
or rather shouting, when the time traveler came back. He
was dressed in ordinary evening clothes, and nothing save his
haggard look remained of change that had startled me, I say,
(09:03):
said the editor, hilariously, these chaps here say you have
been traveling into the middle of next week. Tell us
all about little Roseberry. Will you? What will you take
for the lot. The time traveler came to the place
reserved for him without a word. He smiled quietly in
his old way. Where's my mutton? He said, What a
(09:25):
treat it is to stick a fork into meat again,
Story cried the editor. Story be damned, said the time traveler.
I want something to eat. I won't say a word
until I get some peptone into my arteries. Thanks and
the salt. One word, said I have you been time traveling? Yes,
(09:49):
said the time traveler, with his mouth full, nodding his head.
I'd give a shilling a line for a verbatim note,
said the editor. The time traveler pushed his glass towards
the sight silet man and rang it with his finger nail,
at which the silent man, who had been staring at
his face, started convulsively and poured in wine. The rest
(10:10):
of the dinner was uncomfortable for my own part. Sudden
questions kept rising to my lips, and I dare say
it was the same with the others. The journalist tried
to relieve the tension by telling anecdotes of Hetty Potter.
The time traveler devoted his attention to his dinner and
displayed the appetite of a trap. The medical man smoked
(10:33):
a cigarette and watched the time traveler through his eyelashes.
The silent man seemed even more clumsy than usual, and
drank champagne with regularity and determination out of sheer nervousness.
At last, the time traveler pushed his plate away and
looked round us. I suppose I must apologize, he said,
(10:56):
I was simply starving. I've had a most amazing time.
He reached out his hand for a cigar and cut
the end. But come into the smoking room. It's too
long a story to tell. Over greasy plates and ringing
the bell. In passing, he led the way into the
adjoining room. You have told blank and dash and chose
(11:17):
about the machine, he said to me, leaning back in
his easy chair and naming the three new guests. But
the thing's a mere paradox, said the editor. I can't
argue tonight. I don't mind telling you the story, but
I can't argue. I will, he went on, tell you
the story of what has happened to me, if you like,
(11:40):
but you must refrain from interruptions. I want to tell
it badly. Most of it will sound like lying, so
be it. It's true. Every word of it all the same.
I was in my laboratory at four o'clock, and since
then I've lived a days, such days as no human
(12:03):
being ever lived before. I'm nearly worn out, but I
shan't sleep till I've told this thing over to you.
Then I shall go to bed. But no interruptions. Is
it agreed? Agreed? Said the editor, and the rest of
us echoed. Agreed. And with that the time traveler began
(12:25):
his story, as I've set it forth. He sat back
in his chair at first, and spoke like a weary man. Afterwards,
he got more animated in writing it down. I feel,
with only too much keenness, the inadequacy of pen and ink,
and above all my own inadequacy to express its quality.
(12:46):
You read, I will suppose attentively enough. But you cannot
see the speaker's white, sincere face in the bright circle
of the little lamp, nor hear the intonation of his voice.
Cannot know how his expression followed the turns of his story.
Most of us hearers were in shadow, for the candles
(13:08):
in the smoking room had not been lighted, and only
the face of the journalist and the legs of the
silent man from the knees downward were illuminated. At first,
we glanced now and again at each other. After a time,
we ceased to do that and looked only at the
time traveler's face. End of Chapter two.
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