Read The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen for Free Online Page A

few levels."
    The two men descended staircase after staircase into the bowels of the stodgy
museum. It was like stumbling through the prison caves of Ayesha, and with each
new level, Quatermain lost a bit more of his patience. "How deep are we going?
Has one of your explorers found a passage to the center of the Earth?"
    The winding stairs finally terminated in a low brick corridor that looked as
if it had been modeled on the Paris sewers. A closed wooden door at the far end
blocked the hall. "I have done my part, Mr. Quatermain, and I will take my leave
of you now. Perhaps we will meet again." He motioned for the old adventurer to
enter through the door. "My employer will explain the rest."
    The old hunter felt a prickle of hairs on the back of his neck similar to
what he experienced the times he'd entered the rank-smelling den of a lion.
Perhaps he would find predators even here, though of a different sort. He
hesitated, suddenly wary.
    Reed stood at the door and waited, then cleared his throat impatiently.
Quatermain finally stepped inside, and the bureaucrat closed the door, plunging
the hidden private room into shadow.
    To most men, this darkness would have disguised the rooms secrets, but Allan
Quatermain knew how to make full use of all his senses. He sniffed the air.
"I've come a long way to be playing childrens' games. Who are you?"
    The red dot of a glowing cigarette gave the smoker away on the far side of
the room. His chuckle sounded like desiccated, rattling bones. "After Africa's
dry and sunny veldts, London's weather isn't improving your mood, I see."
    With the turn of one knob on a small panel, blue-orange gaslight flickered up
close to a fiftyish man so gaunt that the shadows turned him into a skeleton.
His head seemed overly large for his thin neck, his brow heavy and solid. His
cigarette holder angled jauntily upward.
    Quatermain was not impressed. "I asked for your name, not speculations on my
mood."
    Slim and self-assured, the man sucked on the black end of his cigarette
holder and blew a long, gray breath. "I am known by many names, Mr. Quatermain.
My underlings call me sir. My superiors call me… M."
    "M?"
    "Just M."
    "Not very adept at spelling, I suppose," Quatermain grumbled. "I hope your
superiors don't boast diplomas from Oxford."
    "Charming." M was neither particularly annoyed nor amused. "I must say, the
delight is mine—meeting so notable a recruit to this newest generation of the
League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Thank you for joining us."
    "League of… what?" Quatermain asked.
    M turned more gas knobs, and the isolated chamber was fully illuminated in
dramatic pools of flickering gaslight. A long table was surrounded by sumptuous
leather chairs. "This is a most exclusive society, Mr. Quatermain. Membership is
rather difficult to come by."
    The old adventurer was not enamored with the honor. He had just left the
destroyed Britannia Club and had wasted many days and nights in travel; he had
no intention of coming all this way to London just to become part of another
gentlemens' society. "I believe I've made a mistake in coming here."
    "You will make a bigger mistake if you leave." M did not rise from his chair.
"Come, look around. It will give me a chance to explain."
    The meeting room of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen was filled with
exquisite sculptures, priceless paintings, the finest furniture. The
paraphernalia seemed more mysterious and intriguing than the pompous relics in
the main halls of the museum above.
    "You see, Mr. Quatermain," M said, "there have been many times when a danger
upon the world required the service of singular individuals." With a cadaverous
smile, he gestured to group portraits of various adventurers from history lumped
together in their approximate eras. Quatermain recognized many of them, and saw
that he was in distinguished company indeed.
    "The task has fallen to me to assemble another group of heroes for our