Atalanta
Date: 2026-07-08T00:00:00+00:00

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Title: Atalanta
or twelve months in the evening star

Author: Charles Napier Richards

Release date: July 8, 2026 [eBook #79051]

Language: English

Original publication: London: H & C Treacher, 1909

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/79051

Credits: Tom Trussel, Charlene Taylor and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATALANTA ***

ATALANTA

OR

TWELVE MONTHS IN THE

EVENING STAR

BY

CHARLES NAPIER RICHARDS

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

BRIGHTON

H. & C. TREACHER, 1 NORTH STREET

LONDON

SIMPKIN MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT, & CO., LTD.

STATIONERS HALL COURT, E.C.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER | | PAGE
I. | The Gathering of the Friends | 7
II. | A Life Sorrow and its Remedy | 13
III. | Starting Skywards | 17
IV. | The Lunar Peril | 26
V. | The Meteoric Storm | 33
VI. | Into the Black Gulf | 40
VII. | The Northern Island | 48
VIII. | First Explorations | 54
IX. | Across the Central Ocean | 60
X. | When the Rain Mist Lifted | 67
XI. | The City and its Welcome | 77
XII. | Needful Preparations | 89
XIII. | The First Ordeal | 98
XIV. | The Second Ordeal | 109
XV. | A Tale at a Supper Party | 120
XVI. | Malchon’s Gospel | 130
XVII. | The Perils of Cross Currents | 139
XVIII. | The Festival of Panacla | 147
XIX. | An Aerial Voyage with Divers Experiences | 156
XX. | The Island of Twilight | 167
XXI. | The Peak of Aptaura | 173
XXII. | The Great Mystery | 177
XXIII. | Lydon’s Revolt | 187
XXIV. | The Denunciation and the Retribution | 198
XXV. | The Old Love and the New | 211
XXVI. | The Farewell of Amalona | 221
XXVII. | The Sacred Manuscript and the Price Paid for it | 228
XXVIII. | The Message from the Observatory | 241
XXIX. | The Feast of Farewell | 253
XXX. | The Mystery that was Unsolved | 267
| Transcriber’s note |

ATALANTA

CHAPTER I
THE GATHERING OF THE FRIENDS

“I say, you fellows, can any of you oblige by throwing an illuminating light on the movements of old Carmichael?”

The question was addressed by Maurice Sheldon to a party of undergraduates assembled in his college rooms in Cambridge, one lazy afternoon near the end of the summer term.

“Well,” said Gilbert Rice, after some moments of acute reflection, “the dear old owl has taken advantage of the close of his lecture course to take himself off to some unknown hole in Northumberland called ‘Newbiggin-on-the-Sea,’ I believe.”

“Anxious to turn over a new leaf and make a new beginning,” ejaculated Joe Vallance.

“Why on earth did he stop there and not go on to Edinburgh or to the Highlands like any sensible man?” queried Sheldon.

“I was dangerously near suggesting that he wasn’t one, but I see Abercromby getting ready a missile to shy at my head,” answered Gilbert Rice, “but I don’t mind saying Carmichael is an awfully decent sort when you really get to know him.”

“Well, I have got to know him,” retorted Frank Abercromby, with emphasis, “and I tell you this, he is working body and soul at something that will astonish the world when the secret is out.”

“Stagger humanity like old Kruger,” said the teasing Vallance. “Put some whisky into his coffee, and he will tell us all about it.”

“I shan’t tell you anything till Carmichael gives the word. He has gone up to that quiet spot to meet Carysfort the engineer whom some of you know, and also Clarence Radcliffe the Oxford curate. The last is a queer sort of a chap, rather a dreamer you know, been through an awful lot of trouble, lost his wife during their honeymoon, but he did me a regular good turn and I mean to stick to him. I’m going to ask him to come and meet the Professor and the engineer and we will see if we can’t get a bit ahead.”

“But, my dear chap, how long is this job going to take?” said Sheldon. “Carysfort is a pledge there will be one sane person in the enterprise, but how are you to start again for your degree?”

“I’m not going to start again.”

“Great Scott! are you going down after this term?”

“I’ve no alternative. My uncle hates me, and has taken an unjust advantage of my failing to pass to give up all further support of me.”

“I’m awfully sorry, but what the dickens will you do?”

“Join myself to Carysfort and the Professor.”

“And what will he do?” slyly put in Gilbert Rice.

“Well, of all the extraordinary things I ever heard, this about beats the record,” said Sheldon. Then he resumed—

“Carmichael the scientific don, whose lectures were so dry that they well-nigh killed the Vice-Chancellor. Carysfort a hard-headed engineer, Radcliffe a poor parson nearly knocked silly by melodrama in his honeymoon, and you Abercromby—well, present company always excepted you know—meeting to carry on some work in Northumbria about which our distinguished selves are for an indefinite time to know nothing,” and he finished with the most expressive of gestures.

“I think we had better go a walk to Cherry Hinton,” said Joe Vallance; “won’t you come with us, Abercromby?”

“No, comrades of a bygone day,” said Abercromby, with a distinct catch in his voice, “I have a less pleasurable duty to do: to pack my box.”

“Well, I’m beastly sorry,” said Gilbert Rice, “hope the clouds will roll by soon, old fellow.”

A few weeks later a small group of friends were seated in the parlour of a house in a lonely situation facing the North Sea, a few hundred yards from St. Bartholomew’s Point at Newbiggin. The July sun was setting in splendour and the watery expanse was calm as a lake. The Professor had placed upon the table a small model, shaped after the fashion of a submarine boat constructed of a greyish-white substance, divided into several tiny compartments and pointed at the end with a steel prow.

“Gentlemen,” said the Professor, “I will ask my good friend Mr. Carysfort to explain to you in outline the significance of what you now see.”

“Well, gentlemen,” answered the engineer, “this is only a small model, but the first step is often the most important, and it will certainly be so, we trust, in this case. This machine is capable of doing more than solving the problem of aerial navigation. It is an airship and can be used as such by the action of the revolving fans, but it can do more. When there is no air sufficient for the fans to beat, it can still go onward farther and farther from the earth. You know that in theory any particle of attraction can be converted into a particle of repulsion whereby the law of gravitation may be suspended for an adequate time. But the practical difficulty has been to find a power that will effect this change. The power has been found. A new substance has been discovered by the joint labour of the Professor and myself, two new chemical elements both having certain affinities with radium, which can, by the help of electric energy, impart to this model, or to a machine of larger size, the power to resist the gravitation force of the earth until we are sufficiently far away from it to fall into some other centre of attraction. This simply means that the secret of interplanetary communication has been solved.”

The others listened in profound silence. Then Clarence Radcliffe said: “How long will it take to construct a machine on the requisite scale and finish?”

“About two years at the most,” answered Carysfort, “but I hope a less time will suffice.”

“And where the dickens are we going?” asked Abercromby. “To the moon, I suppose, first, and then onwards to Mars. Mars seems to be the goal of scientific enterprise just now.”

“I shall not go to Mars,” replied the Professor; “we know as much about Mars already as we can ever hope to know without actually visiting it. People rave about the canals, but that semi-arctic planet, which I do not believe is inhabited after all, has little interest for me. But there is a planet equal in size to our own earth, much nearer to us than Mars, aglow with light and probably with life. We are going to Venus. This is the enterprise which will enrich humanity with the larger knowledge. You can get a map of Mars with all the continents named, but no one ever drew a map of Venus. No one ever will except he goes there.”

“What is to be approximately the speed of the machine?” said Radcliffe.

“Ten miles a second when we are in the airless void,” replied Carysfort, “but we can regulate our speed at will when it becomes advisable to do so. The distance to be travelled is between twenty-three and twenty-seven millions, according to the precise positions of the two planets. Mars is never less than thirty-five millions and that only once in about fifteen years; its ordinary minimum of nearness is at least forty-eight millions.”

“How many people will the machine be constructed to hold?” said Abercromby in a rather excited tone.

The Professor hesitated, then he slowly replied, “For myself, my servant Jackson, Carysfort, and one other.” There was a moment’s pause, then the Professor looked fixedly at Abercromby.

“May I take a turn with you on the sands?” asked Abercromby, his face somewhat flushed.

The Professor assented, leaving Radcliffe talking with the engineer. The two others opened the garden gate and stepped out on to the fine dry sands for which Newbiggin is famous.

“Come, my friend,” said the Professor, “you must not take refuge in shyness, but to end all dispute, I want you. You have had rough luck, and you are just the young fellow whose services an older man like me would gladly enlist.”

“Professor,” said Abercromby, “I am awfully keen on the work, few could be more so, but I will give up my share to the man who saved me from a beastly scrape when I was visiting Oxford.”

“I know to what you refer,” replied Carmichael a little impatiently; “some rascal accused you of stealing one of the inter-Varsity athletic prizes, and Radcliffe cleared you by unmasking the real culprit. No one rejoiced more than I, but I cannot see why this should cut you out of the greatest enterprise ever attempted by man.”

“Have you heard of Radcliffe’s awful trial?”

“Not full particulars.”

“Well, I will tell you all I know, and then you will see that the only chance of saving him from utter shipwreck lies in giving him a new object in life.”

“Will the story take long in the telling?”

“Ten minutes.”

“Drive ahead then.”

CHAPTER II
A LIFE SORROW AND ITS REMEDY

“I’m not going to pile on the agony, but will just give you the main facts.

“He was curate at one of the Oxford churches, after taking a good degree in his special department. Well, he cycles over to Chipping Norton in the summer term, rescues a lady from the grip of a loafing tramp, gets invited to the house, a country rectory a mile or so from the town. She thinks him a paladin, of course; he thinks her an angel equally of course. They get head over ears; the old parson hesitates at first but consents. So he is married in the village church to May Lilian Carnforth. I do soberly believe that no two human beings ever so loved each other since marriage was instituted.”

“Five minutes gone,” said the Professor dryly.

“They went on their honeymoon to Barmouth. They had not been there long before she began to lose her admiration of him, though he kept his admiration of her. At last they had a row; I don’t know what it was about, some utterly trivial matter probably. She declared she would not go an excursion up the river to Dolgelly with him as had been planned. He said in anger she might go by herself, knowing that this was practically impossible. She flounced out of the house and went across the road to her cousin, Miss Amy Vereker, who was staying in the place. Radcliffe saw them go off together. Miss Vereker was expert at the oar. He thought it best to let them go by themselves. It was an ideal day for a river or sea trip. He waved his hand to his wife as she turned the corner, but she gave no response. To cut the ghastly story short, the boat was upset near Penmaen Pool. Amy Vereker just narrowly saved her life, May Lilian Radcliffe was drowned. No one will ever know exactly what happened; it was held at the inquest that the boat grated upon a rock in mid-stream. Radcliffe came home alone, and resumed his work. He is said to have preached better, but I only heard him once. His subject was ‘The Wilderness,’ and though I am a graceless scamp, and likely to remain so, I had a jolly old cry when I came out.”

The Professor stood silent. At last he said, “We will go back to the house; I will speak to Radcliffe.”

The party were still assembled in the parlour inspecting and admiring the model machine. Honest Tom Jackson, who had been the Professor’s faithful servant for years, was just saying, “It looks so nice that it’s a pity we can’t get into it and start at once. It’s a deal of polishing I’ll be after when I gets into the real one. I’ll keep it as bright as a new pin.”

“Mr. Radcliffe,” said the Professor, “I shall be pleased to offer you a place in our expedition. You will be a most welcome addition to our party if you choose to cast in your lot with us.”

“I have often wished to die,” said Radcliffe, whose eyes shone with a strange lustre, “but you have offered me something nobler. But I am a minister and I do not know how far my beliefs may be in accord with yours. I am also a man crushed to the very ground with a sorrow that nothing can ever eradicate but the Mansions of the Blest, which even the ancient Egyptians believed in, and to which I wish to go some day for a special purpose. Ought such a man as I to travel with those whose energies are fresh and unimpaired? But if we ever reach Venus and find intelligent life upon its surface you must give me a free hand, provided I do not compromise your safety. I place myself at your disposal, gentlemen.”

“My dear chap, just come along and see what there is to be seen,” said Abercromby cheerfully. “I shall often think of you, and hope that the bigger sun of Venus may shine upon your dream and your work. Don’t go on to Mercury, mind!”

The whole party laughed, but upon the face of Radcliffe there was a grave and troubled look of enquiry. “You are coming of course,” he said.

“No room—given up my berth in the asteroid to you, old fellow.”

“Then I decline,” said Radcliffe promptly.

“Beg pardon, gentlemen,” broke in Jackson, “but why couldn’t we put on an extra bit to the machine, and have the two? One will dance to the natives up there, and the tother will preach to ’em.”

“I shall do it,” said the Professor; “it will cost very little more. They shall both go. As to the matter of beliefs, I don’t choose to let every bystander know my mind. Mr. Radcliffe’s may be old-fashioned, but they have contrived to carry him through what might have wrecked other men. A new world will probably put a number of things on a sounder footing, though it may knock others on the head. Carysfort and myself have not studied theology, we are simply thinkers with open minds. If there are any people in Venus to teach, teach them all you can, and learn from them all you can. You are a scholar and a philosophic dreamer as well as being an old-fashioned believer. I knew a parson very like yourself, he was the straitest of the strait, but when I got him out of the pulpit for a little private talk, I never met so daring a speculatist in my life. But he kept his speculations as speculations, and he gave his people only his convictions. But I am on the sermonising warpath myself, and will pull up. You are welcome amongst us, and are now one of us.”

“I’m a man of few words,” said the engineer, “but I’m right glad to have both you and Mr. Abercromby. We could not afford to dispense with either of you.”

“From the depths of my grateful heart I thank you,” said Radcliffe in a broken voice.

“Well, it is about time we had some tea,” suggested Abercromby; “all the rest of the business is settled nem. con. I always find it safe to abbreviate my Latin.”

CHAPTER III
STARTING SKYWARDS

Two years have passed away since the meeting at Newbiggin described in the last chapter. They have been years of varied and incessant toil, research, forethought, and preparation.

The Professor continued his scientific lectures in Cambridge for one more academic year and took a house for the vacation at Cullercoats. Carysfort stuck to his old quarters near to Newbiggin, where his workshops were erected. Abercromby kept with him, working like a dock labourer, as the engineer used often to say. Radcliffe held on to his curacy at Oxford and drew crowds, at least so Abercromby always declared, for when he could spare himself a holiday he ran down to see him. His rector, a man notorious for his orthodoxy though his sympathies ran in a somewhat different channel, would have been much startled had he known the character of the studies in which his curate delighted.

Many works that bore on astronomy and kindred subjects were to be found in his library, and once a person, happening to drop in, casually remarked that the undergraduate who had evidently left his books behind him when he went down must have been a man of wide reading.

Study is generally supposed to make a man pale and thin, but upon the curate it had a contrary effect. He seemed, as time went on, to get better and stronger. He sunk the whole of his private means in his friends’ enterprise, and supported himself for the last few months on the merest pittance.

One bright June evening he and Abercromby met on the railway platform at Cullercoats. They walked together to Beverley Terrace and had tea and supper with the Professor and Carysfort.

“Matters are approaching a crisis, old man,” said Abercromby. “The Professor tells me we must pack our week-end boxes in a month, in fact, to be precise, July 22nd is the day fixed.”

A spasm of pain shot across Radcliffe’s face but he only said, “I will be ready.”

“Write me down an ass,” said Abercromby. “We must alter the date, Professor.”

“Quite so,” answered Carmichael. “Venus is approaching the minimum distance, but a margin of ten days could be allowed.”

“There shall not be a margin of ten minutes as far as I am concerned,” replied Radcliffe. “After all, it is best for me that I should bid an eternal farewell to this earth on that date. It has been chosen for me, and I accept it.”

“Let me tell you how matters stand,” said Carysfort. “We had our trial trip last night. It was quite dark, there was no moon, so we could start unobserved. We passed over Rothbury at a height of about two miles, then we drifted towards Newcastle, and when we were over Ponteland we soared straight towards the zenith. We saw the sun rise in the east, and then found that our most difficult task was to get back again before it rose over the Tyne. We were quite outside the atmosphere and saw the earth at a rather unusual altitude. It was a bit ghastly I allow, but we knew already we had succeeded.”

“Abercromby was splendid,” said the Professor; “he stood in the outer balcony in that rarefied atmosphere till I had to drag him in.”

“I drew the line at going off pop,” said Abercromby, “because I naturally felt that though I might be of little use at the best of times, yet if by chance I burst I might even be less.”

“Did any people see you as you descended?” asked Radcliffe.

“Only two bounders walking in from Woodhorn, and though it was barely six o’clock they had both been tippling. They ran down the road screaming, but we put on speed and were safe over the garden wall and our machine in its proper place before they could do any harm. It was a near shave though, and we have voted for no more trips till the final start.”

“What I have chiefly feared,” said the Professor, “was that some meddling Government official would insist upon knowing what we were about. However, being in England, I knew I was in the easiest place to destroy the British Empire if I desired so to do, as nobody would believe it of me, and everybody would think it uncharitable to say it of me, so I had no bother except from the surveyor of taxes. It happened that some patriotic gentleman not very far off was perfecting an airship to render England invulnerable to the Germans, but many liberal-minded clergymen and laymen think he would show a more broad spirit of Christianity if he gave it to the Kaiser. Thanks to this good man I have been much less an object of curiosity than I might have been.”

“Suppose we just take a stroll on the Tynemouth sands and talk over details,” said Carysfort. “To-morrow, if you can stay, you must come with us to Newbiggin and inspect the machine for yourself. Full particulars must wait until then.”

Radcliffe assented with pleasure. They strolled along as far as they could, talking and discussing, while a band was playing “All in the hush of twilight,” and a negro minstrel performance was going on near the Palace Pier. There was a sort of open-air concert, two vocalists having sung “Beauty’s home, Killarney,” and “Phil the Fluter’s Ball,” sang “Love launched a fairy boat.” The people encored and they sang it again. Radcliffe stood listening, and only Frank Abercromby noticed that his eyes were full of tears. Carysfort, who voted the whole proceedings a deadly nuisance, at last pulled him away, and resumed discussions upon mathematics and locomotion.

After supper the party had a further walk along the Cullercoats promenade and then retired to rest in readiness for a visit to Newbiggin in the early hours of the morning.

The party were gathered in due course before the great steel-grey machine with its fans, its balconies, and its long steel prow. They mounted the short ladder that gave access to the interior, which consisted of an upper-deck dining-room lighted with electricity, with large windows, the glass of which was protected by steel shutters easily workable and short steel projections. There was a long table in the centre with chairs, around the thickly padded walls ran couches and divans, and in recesses various collections of books, instruments of all kinds, and other articles, each firmly secured to the wall.

Below the dining-room, approached by a hatchway, were small cabins with comfortable hammocks, and, below these, the engine-room and the store-rooms. At one end of the dining-room a flight of steps with protecting hand-rail led to the conning-tower where the upper steering apparatus was fixed, communicating with electric bells with the lower duplicate steering apparatus in the engine-room. There was direct communication by bells and telephones with each several part of the machine.

In order that nothing useful might be forgotten, each member, every four months, wrote out a list of necessary and desirable things and sent them in to the Professor. Twice over the list was carefully revised. Abercromby reminded them one day that the only thing he could think of was to give a name to the machine, and they decided to christen her the “Asteroid.”

At six o’clock on the evening of July 22nd the whole company was assembled in the parlour of the lonely house at Newbiggin. It was a close thunderous summer evening, the sea had scarce a ripple, and the air was most oppressively still.

Abercromby in vain tried to revive their spirits by his jokes and sallies, but a solemn sadness hung over the company, yet combining with it an emotion of undaunted resolve.

“Now, friends and comrades,” said the Professor, “I propose in an hour’s time that we take final possession of the Asteroid. The work of cutting loose from our moorings will, even then, occupy a certain while, but I suggest that we start skywards at eight p.m.

“Now it is my duty to say that I offer a final opportunity to any one, if he has the least misgivings, to draw back; I shall think none the worse of him. We are sensible men, and we must for the last time look difficulties in the face ere we are committed beyond recall.”

“There are no difficulties,” retorted Abercromby.

“Pardon me, my dear fellow, but that is nonsense. To begin with, we run the risk of our motive force failing us or going wrong, in which case we should fall back at ruinous speed upon the earth, and be either burned to cinders in its atmosphere or pulverised upon its surface. Then we have a struggle to wage against the attractive force of the sun, and I need not point out what sort of death will await us that way.

“Supposing we get near to Venus, we have to encounter the fall upon its surface, which, with all our care, may be deadly. Once arrived, we may find its air unbreathable, and its heat too great for human life. Its people may capture us and deprive us of our machine, thus preventing us for ever from returning home; and they may even torture us and kill us. Then we have the terrors of the return journey, which are of a precisely similar kind to those of the outward, with the possible variation that we may find a lunatic asylum awaiting us in the place of an international welcome. These are the odds: ponder them for the last time.”

“I have pondered them over and over again,” said Carysfort, “and for me they have no terrors.”

“I object to no item in the Professor’s black list except the terrestrial lunatic asylum,” said Abercromby, “and we have only to avoid British territory, and, being true Britons, we shall be sure of a hearty welcome.”

“To me the journey to Venus is but the prelude to a longer journey,” replied Clarence Radcliffe, “but, till my work is done, I shall not ask to die. I have risen superior to that, chiefly through the kindness of you, my brothers.”

“Jackson, what have you to say?” said the Professor.

“Bless you, sir! I’ll just be after going where you go, and if the Lord brings us all safe back I’ll tell the folks at home that I’ve been and gone and had a real good time of it. But you must leave me the polishing-up of the machine, sir. You’ll do the steering, and I the scrubbing. When I laid my old mother to rest in Elton churchyard I buried the last who would miss me, and I thought as how I would like to go clear away, only you are taking me a bit farther than I reckoned.”

“Well done, honest Tom,” said Carysfort. “If every master had as good a helper as Carmichael has in you, there would be a little more sensible work carried out in this spoiled land of ours.”

“Just one word, Professor,” put in Abercromby. “If things go all right, how long do you mean to stay away?”

“Only a few months if Venus is not inhabited, two or three years if it is,” replied the Professor. “I have written out a full and concise account of our intentions and shall leave it behind me. I have also addressed a letter to the Home Secretary. Of course the secret of our discovery is carefully guarded, but I have told who we are and where we are going. I have left full instructions as to my property and this packet shall be posted as soon as you have all signed your names to it. Another shall be sent to the Mayor of Newcastle, and a third shall be left on the table. And now we had better sign, as we are all agreed.”

This having been done, the two postal packets were sent off. Radcliffe asked that they should invoke the Divine blessing upon their enterprise, to which all consented, and then they silently left the house, and proceeded to the place, sheltered behind high walls, where the Asteroid was poised ready for its vast and thrilling flight.

Abercromby remarked that they had not as many to see them start as Columbus or Sir John Franklin had, to which fact the Professor yielded the most hearty and even cheerful assent.

The final preparations took up a shorter time than was expected, and at 7.30 p.m. on that cloudy July evening Carmichael took his post in the conning-tower; the others stood upon the outer balcony, Abercromby assuring the Professor that as soon as they had got outside the earth’s atmosphere he would button up his greatcoat and leisurely come in.

“Farewell to England!” said the engineer simply. “May we find our country a little more open to common sense when we come back.”

Jackson evidently thought that Mr. Frank would give them a colossal joke at the moment of starting, but perhaps, unknown to himself, the power to do so failed him at the last moment. He put his arm through Clarence Radcliffe’s and said, “Say something for me, old chap; I’m hanged if I can.”

“May God bless all in the world who are in sorrow, and may we bring them back something to help them,” answered Radcliffe.

“Start the car, Professor, or I shall make an ass of myself,” sung out Abercromby. “No, hold hard, please. Tom has got a last message for the old country.”

“God save the King,” said Jackson, pulling off his cap.

“Most correct and admirable,” replied Abercromby; “nothing could be less open to hostile criticism. Now, Professor, if Nelson were here he would tell us that every man’s duty was to fly. Go ahead, and just give us a peep of Northumbria before we finally vanish.”

A moment more and Newbiggin, from the old church on the wave-worn promontory to the Eagle Rocks, lay many hundreds of feet below them.

CHAPTER IV
THE LUNAR PERIL

Within a few minutes the travellers had entered the thick veil of the clouds, and were forced to beat a speedy retreat into the shelter of the upper deck. Rain poured down, there was a sharp flash of lightning followed by a rattling peal of thunder. Carmichael increased the speed, and soon the cloud region was traversed and they climbed higher and higher into the star-spangled night. Soon the lights at the entrance of the Tyne came into view, and a dull illumination to the west showed them the busy hive of Newcastle. Gradually it became impossible to make out even the largest objects originated by man, but the great grey landscape opened and widened; they could see the Cumberland Mountains, and the crescent moon, now wondrously brilliant, lit up the sea beyond.

Presently England itself became a dark grey patch girt with the silvery sea, and then the countries of Europe almost took the form of a model map, only it wanted the daylight to illuminate it.

Carmichael now insisted that the whole party should come within, and he did not need to employ arguments. Already they were choking and gasping and nearly benumbed with cold. Just as they entered, Carysfort having hermetically sealed the partition, they saw a broad fan of light flash out upon the eastern horizon, and the sun rose and bathed the enormous circle of the earth with his rosy-tinted rays. Trailing belts of clouds hung over Russia and Eastern Siberia, but over India and mid-China the weather was resplendent.

“There is Mount Everest,” said Carysfort, pointing to a snow-white hillock, as it looked to them, “nearly 30,000 feet high, five miles and more. What would Major Everest have said, when he was measuring it by trigonometry in 1847, if he could have seen it as we see it!”

“We are 170 miles already,” said Carmichael. “I am going to double speed, so prepare for a surprise.”

Every minute now made a perceptible difference. At last the circle of the entire globe was seen, the heavens gradually turned from dark blue to black, the stars shone out, the sun’s rays began to blaze like a fiery corona, all grew silent and still, the faintest apparent motion ceased, the earth seemed every few minutes to shrink to a smaller circle, while the moon, which hung in space, appeared to grow in size and splendour.

The awful spectacle daunted even the brave men who had dared everything to behold it. Even Abercromby and Carysfort averted their faces from the window. Radcliffe alone stood with folded arms in a state of abstraction.

“I shall now quadruple the electric pressure,” said Carmichael; “the sooner we get used to these things the better.”

The Professor was just about to put his decision into practice when Radcliffe stopped him by suggesting that this might be a unique opportunity for solving the problem of the terrestrial polar regions.

A powerful telescope was soon fixed into position and each in turn made full use of it. The result was not very satisfactory. The North Pole was so hidden in clouds and vapour that it was well-nigh impossible to form a verdict. With the South Pole it was different. They could see a ring of white mountains with Mounts Erebus and Terror clearly visible, but beyond was an antarctic continent with a greyish patch in the centre just at the Pole itself. But it gave them no evidence of being inhabited.

The moon was shining to the left of them, considerably larger in size than it appears from the earth. Carysfort raised the question whether it was worth while to attempt a landing upon it. The question was decided in the negative. They would pass near enough to solve that problem of the outer or invisible side of the disk which is never seen by man.

The Professor told them that they would cross the lunar orbit in two hours’ time, when they would pass it at a distance of about 11,500 miles.

“I dare not risk our great enterprise in the attempt to alight upon a small world which the best science of our times has pronounced to be airless, waterless, and lifeless,” said the Professor. “To land upon a world without an atmosphere would be a most dangerous undertaking, and we could do no exploring when we got there, but would have to remain cooped up in our machine. We could not sail over its surface, for we should have no atmosphere in which the fans could work. If we had made up our minds to go there, we would have faced the risks and prepared accordingly; but we have something far more important lying before us.”

“I read in a book while at Oxford,” said Radcliffe, “that earth and moon should not be regarded as planet and satellite, but rather as two stars revolving around each other.”

“Precisely so,” answered the Professor. “It is absurd to liken the moon to one of the satellites of Jupiter or Saturn. A planet of 90,000 miles in diameter may have five small worlds gravitating around him, but a world of less than 8000 miles cannot, strictly speaking, regard a world of 2200 miles as a humble dependent.”

“Was the moon ever a part of the earth, and did it fill the bed of the present Pacific Ocean before it was split asunder?” asked Abercromby.

“My dear fellow, you announce the most astounding theories as though they were ordinary facts,” said the Professor.

“Of course I do. I want to beat Radcliffe at astronomy, and to anticipate his speculations.”

“I was not there to see,” replied Carmichael. “That there is something very peculiar about the relationships of earth and moon, different to other bodies in the solar system, I readily grant. Mars, for instance, being a small planet, has two microscopic satellites, but there is no satellite that bears any such proportion to its primary as the moon does. I hardly believe in the disruptive theory; I am more disposed to think that the moon and the earth were always independent, and that perhaps the moon got caught by the earth’s attraction and was henceforth chained by it.”

Jackson here appeared upon the scene and enquired if there were any orders for supper. Abercromby disputed the title and declared it must be breakfast as the sun was shining with unpleasant brilliancy.

“When we are well clear of the moon we will certainly have a good square meal, but it is not worth while, for the sake of this, to come to a disastrous collision,” said Carmichael.

A cup of coffee and some biscuits were handed round to each, and then the whole party resorted to the windows. Speed was increased and the Asteroid made direct for the orbit of the moon, but carefully avoided a heading of the prow towards her. The circle of the lunar globe was becoming every few minutes wider till it greatly exceeded in dimensions the apparent size of the earth.

The Professor drew out a large map of the lunar disk and they could see for themselves how accurate it was. Slowly, as it seemed to them, the great orb turned upon its axis, and, as the minimum distance was reached, the outer hemisphere gradually outspread itself. There was nothing notably different from the earthward side. There were the same chain of mountains, the same circular ramparts, the same extinct craters, the same desolate stony plains. The only difference that could be noticed, if any, was that the outer side of the moon bore less manifest traces of violent convulsion, the heights and depths were on a slightly smaller scale. There was one large plain near the equator which might in earlier ages have been a fertile undulating country, or even the bed of an ocean.

“Well, this finally disposes of the theory of existing lunar races,” said the engineer.

“With our powerful instruments and looking through an airless void, we should see traces of human handiwork had there ever been any,” observed Radcliffe. “What an awful world, a veritable picture of hell. Wherever the sun’s rays fall direct there is insufferable heat; wherever you step out of them, only by a few yards, insufferable cold. Hell is the easiest place to find in all the universe.”

“I have always thought so,” quietly answered Carysfort. “We do not know all the secrets of the black gulfs of space. Outside the Milky Way, for instance, in what astronomers call the ‘Coal Pit,’ what is there?”

“But all here is brilliant sunlight,” protested Abercromby. “Where are the black gulfs?”

“The first begins outside the solar system, between our sun and Alpha Centauri, said to be the nearest of the fixed stars,” remarked the Professor. “When our sun had become a tiny star, and Alpha Centauri, though you rushed at it with the speed of light, kept you waiting for a three years’ journey before it even gave you a visible disk to look at, there would be time for days of darkness, and many of them. I am not a theologian, I am a pure scientific thinker, but I do not put all my thoughts on the table. I only give them when asked.”

“Come, I say, we shall be feeling ghastly if this subject goes on. Suppose, now that we are clear of that uncanny moon, we have a meal,” said Abercromby. “I am fast getting like the boy who, when his father at the parish tea told him he must eat for to-morrow as well as to-day, informed his dad that he had not done eating for yesterday yet!”

“Well, my frivolous young man,” said the engineer, “Jackson will no doubt appease us, but do not be always putting serious subjects aside.”

Abercromby was just going to acknowledge the engineer’s rebuke when he happened to look round and, finding a pretext for evading the necessity, suddenly called out, “Why the moon has slipped down right under our feet!”

The Professor gave a startled cry, and dashed up the steps into the conning-tower.

“What the deuce has happened?” said Abercromby, turning pale.

“We are falling,” said the engineer.

CHAPTER V
THE METEORIC STORM

For a moment or two Carysfort and the others stood in tense silence. The Professor raised the electric pressure to the maximum, ten miles a second. He was only just in time—a minute more and no motive force could have availed against the lunar attraction.

Even as it was Carmichael did not breathe freely when the distance increased until it became evident that the increase was multiplying itself in widening proportions.

“Well, we had run ourselves into a ghastly hole,” said the engineer. “I wonder when the next will confront us?”

“Some millions of miles onwards when we have our big tussle with the sun,” replied the Professor. “My plan will be to slow down somewhat till we cut the orbit of Venus, and then try to pursue our path along it, instead of crossing it; we shall travel slower than the planet and we can let it overtake us.”

“Where is Mercury?” asked Radcliffe.

“Circling round the other side of the sun,” answered the Professor. “It will not add to our dangers, for it will not interpose its attraction to pull us sunwards for several weeks.”

As soon as the distance from the moon made any danger from that source negligible, the party sat down to their first regular meal in the dining-room. Conversation flowed freely now that the danger was passed. They spent the time in mapping out the programme of their life on the Asteroid before they should near Venus. They made an artificial chart of day and night, allotting sixteen hours to work and study, and eight hours to repose. Two were always to mount guard during the rest time; one to steer, the other to watch.

The Professor advised that the first thing to be done was for him and the engineer to give the rest of the party full instructions as to the use of the machinery and the guidance of the machine. Every one would then be available and every hand ready in a moment of crisis. When off duty each was left free to pass his time exactly as he liked, though Carmichael insisted that all should take exercise at stated intervals, and Abercromby put in practice a series of gymnastics on a small scale, and used to make Radcliffe, of all people, take a prominent part in them. Chess was a source of pleasurable interest. All the party worked together in perfect harmony and brotherliness, except for one passing incident which produced a transient unpleasantness.

Abercromby one day when seated at lunch asked the Professor if he thought they would find Venus a feminine or a masculine world.

“Nonsense!” said Carmichael, a little irritably, for his views about the fair sex were well known to the Cambridge men to be the reverse of complimentary. “There is no such thing as a feminine planet. The very idea is only mythology and legend. Of course Venus is supposed to be the planet of love, and Mars the planet of war, but that is all classical rubbish, you know.”

“Of course,” assented Carysfort; “but we shall have to keep a sharp look-out on this young man if by any luck the inhabitants of Venus were all or mostly women.”

“Luck!” exclaimed the Professor. “Good heavens! I should start back to the earth at once. But I do really think, though I know Abercromby will bark at me, that a parson I once met spoke near the truth when he said it was easier to reach the heart of a man than the heart of a woman.”

“You cannot reach any heart till you possess the key to it, and that you may, alas! sometimes mistake,” answered Radcliffe; adding hotly, “If this conversation is carried any further I shall leave the room.”

“I vote the parson, whoever he was, a donkey,” said Abercromby, “and as he is not here the remark will have a soothing effect upon our agitated nerves.”

“Let it drop, as we are not likely to agree,” replied the Professor. Radcliffe, however, quietly left the room.

“Well,” said Carysfort, “there is no accounting for some people; we shall have two to look after when we get to this incomparable planet. Abercromby will fall in love with the first female savage he meets, unless she brings his courtship to an abrupt close, and Radcliffe—well, he will probably do the last thing that we expect he will do.”

This was the first and only time that the inhabitants of Venus were discussed on the romantic side; all agreeing that it would be best to postpone the question till they got there.

But a tremendous excitement, and an acute danger, was at hand, which stopped all talk on any subject for a good while. When they were about eight millions of miles from the earth—about a third part of their journey, the engineer sighted with his telescope a large comet with a small nucleus, with a fiery train of meteorites spread out in sparkling streams, fan-shaped, and radiating in various directions. The object was but small, and at first it was not easy to trace the exact course which it was taking. The Professor thought it would pass some twenty thousand miles from them, and that they would be in no way affected by it. But as the hours went on the situation grew exceedingly grave, for it became evident that the cometary train might nearly, if not actually, cross their path. Moreover, the mass of burning meteors constantly grew in apparent size, and presented a fiery barrier actually looming before them.

All the party were on the alert, and both the Professor and the engineer went to the conning-tower and took a united part in the steering.

“Are we going to be set on fire, or what is to happen?” said Abercromby in a serious tone. “We seem to be heading straight for a volcanic eruption.”

“The fire cannot reach us except by direct collision,” answered Radcliffe. “What I fear is that the meteorites will bombard us and damage the roof and sides of the Asteroid.”

A little later and the danger approached still nearer. It was a veritable meteoric storm into which they seemed rushing with blind speed. The burning meteors did not, of course, in the void of space burn steadily, but only kindled when they came into collision with each other. Then outbursts of many coloured fires lighted up the gulf of space, some burning for a few minutes, others dying out in a heap of calcined ashes which almost immediately became invisible. Fortunately, they were able to avoid the full brunt of the storm, the nucleus of the comet passing at a considerable distance ahead of them, but they had to endure several nerve-shaking concussions.

Once the Asteroid was struck in the prow and a small amount of damage done. Once a meteoric stone glanced obliquely from the roof, leaping into flames as it did so. The Asteroid was coated over with a fire-proof asbestos substance, and to this they largely owed their safety. Two masses showing up dark against the sun’s rays bore down upon them, but before they could reach them they struck one another and two dark bodies formed instantly one blazing mass; this resolved itself into a fiery mist which rotated rapidly upon its new-formed axis.

All this while the Professor and the engineer stuck to their posts with white set faces, for they well knew the awfulness of the peril. When it was over, and the heavens had resumed their wonted tranquillity, they left the conning-tower and joined the others upon the upper deck.

“We have been almost wrecked,” said Carysfort. “Every moment I thought we were going to be smashed up. I repeated two little prayers my mother taught me, keeping my hand on the machinery all the time.”

“That is just the right combination,” said Radcliffe. “Work as if all depended upon yourself; pray as if all depended upon Another.”

“You saw a world created, I suppose,” said Carmichael.

“What in the name of all that is astounding do you mean?” said Abercromby, staring at him.

“Why, my friend, when those two meteors collided and formed one fiery mass, that is how the thing is done,” answered the Professor.

Radcliffe then said: “You know these matters better than I do, gentlemen, but have we not seen a way in which science, which tells us that the sun will die and the earth be a cold corpse, may be right in the abstract but wrong in fact. Suppose a much larger mass of meteors falls into the sun, might he not renew his youth and the other planets theirs?”

“When the Arab vows perpetual fidelity to his ladylove in the Eastern song he swears to be true

Till the stars grow old,
Till the sun grows cold,
Till the leaves of the Judgment book unfold.”

The remark was Abercromby’s, who thought it more cheerful to sing it.

Radcliffe, ignoring the poetic interpolation, went on: “Is it not feasible that the world may be ended some day by a sudden accession to the sun’s heat through collision of the sun with an extinct star, or the invasion of the solar system by a fire mist, and that afterwards may come a new order of things?”

“‘Death is the gate of life,’ so the proverb runs,” put in the engineer.

“I do not dispute the possibility of these and similar theories proving true,” said Carmichael slowly. “That human affairs may be wound up by a blow from outer space is a proposition to which any thinking man will agree; but don’t be in a hurry to try to make science square with the Bible—watch, wait, gather facts, and patiently build up your conclusions about them. Solomon and the Roman Pliny, the Eastern king and the classical gentleman, had one great merit, they observed. Parsons and scientists are always apt to rush to conclusions, one pretty nearly as much as the other. The theories of to-day may be the laughing-stock of to-morrow, but the patient labour of to-day may be the heritage of to-morrow. I have now preached two lay sermons, Radcliffe, one to you, the other to myself.”

“Then, Professor, you must be feeling pretty well used up,” said Abercromby. “Suppose we have a cup of tea. Wellington is not in it, for he never fought a comet in mid-skies and preached twice afterwards.”

Tom, with a grin upon his honest face, put the tea-things on the table and announced with immaculate gravity, “Tea is ready, gentlemen.”

CHAPTER VI
INTO THE BLACK GULF

The peril from the solar attraction did not prove as great as they had feared. Carmichael had chosen the most favourable moment for leaving the earth, when Venus would be travelling directly towards them, and would interpose as a shield between them and the sun.

Before the new orbit was reached they slackened their speed, and that things were going well was soon evident by the planet appearing beneath them as a gradually brightening star in the depths of space. Many anxious hours and many elaborate mathematical calculations had to be spent and taken before the Professor and the engineer felt able to communicate reassuring news. Not till they had got within five millions of miles from Venus did they feel that the solar peril might be regarded as over.

All the members of the party, except Carmichael, seemed to enjoy a rebound of confidence and hope, but the Professor remained anxious and abstracted. He told them repeatedly that the peril they had feared was past, and that they might reach Venus in safety—at least with no greater danger than the earth if they were returning to it—but this did not enlighten them as to the real cause of his concern. If they asked him more closely he returned only evasive answers.

One day he called the engineer aside and they had a long private talk. It lasted more than an hour. At length the two came out of the cabin and went back to the dining-room, where Abercromby was trying to solve a chess problem.

“Is anything gone queer?” he said to the Professor. “Tell us; we can stand it. Is the machine giving out, or what is the trouble?”

“If you want to find a wife in Venus, and Radcliffe a mission, I fear you will both be disappointed. For myself, I am too disgusted and sick at heart to go into the matter. We have run the most awful risks, and for what? to be rewarded at the last with polar ice and worse than tropical furnaces. In all probability there are no inhabitants of Venus—at least none that are human.”

“But, my dear and respected Professor, how have you found out these agreeable facts at five millions of miles distance?” said Abercromby.

Carmichael did not answer. Radcliffe fixed an appealing look at Carysfort, who at once took up the subject.

“Well, gentlemen, I suppose it is about time we told you. I always feared it might be so, but we hoped it would not be. Now our fears are convictions.”

“And our hopes have taken a run round the stars to keep themselves warm,” said Abercromby. “Now I will not talk nonsense again till you have said your say.”

“The truth is that those astronomers are right who thought that Venus revolved round the sun with such an inclination of its axis that the sun was always in the same place, according to latitude; that there were practically no seasons or alternations of day and night, but that while one side of the planet was always lighted, the other was always dark. Now you can judge what that means in the long run. Half the planet is locked in perpetual ice-bound cold, worse than any of our Arctic winters, while the other has a sun always pouring down light and heat upon it, twice as much as the earth receives and that every day and all day long.”

“But surely, even then it must make an enormous difference what height the sun occupies in the sky?” said Radcliffe.

“That is the only hope,” replied Carysfort.

“Well, then, let us steer for the North Pole of the planet and alight near to the boundary between sunshine and shadow. At least we know that there is an atmosphere.”

“Yes, and a very dense one as regards depth; perhaps five hundred miles or more,” said the Professor, at length breaking his silence. “But although we shall certainly do what Radcliffe suggests, for it is the only possible course to take, I can hold out little hope of any result. The chief danger to be dreaded is storm and tempest, electrical and cyclonic disturbances caused by the meeting of opposing currents of heated and cold air. If we can surmount this, we can make our way cautiously over the lighted surface until the heat shall drive us back.”

“There is another very serious trouble,” said the engineer. “We had hoped that, as we drew near to Venus, we should be able to take careful observations of its features as we did in the case of the moon, and could have carried much further had it been necessary; but, as we shall approach Venus on its darkened side, we shall see practically nothing till we get there. A pleasant landing that will be.”

“It is obvious that we ought not to, and must not, alight upon the planet without seeing where we are,” said Carmichael. “When we reach the atmosphere we must throw out the searchlights, but this will be a dangerous operation.”

“It will set all the dogs barking, you mean,” remarked Abercromby. “But seriously, Professor, do you think it is all up with us?”

“Not as to our safety perhaps, but as to the success of our enterprise. What good will it be to reach a world of fire and desolation?”

Before Venus actually crossed the path of the sun they did their best to take whatever observations were possible. But vast belts of clouds hid the lighted surface, screening its actual wonders from their view.

“We have verified Herschel’s opinion that Venus has an extremely dense atmosphere,” said Radcliffe. “I wonder whether we shall presently verify Schroeter’s that its mountains are twenty miles in height.”

“My dear Radcliffe, Herschel is quite antiquated; and as for the other Johnnie you referred to, he is nearly as ancient as Julius Cæsar,” said Abercromby.

“But there is this to be noted,” remarked the engineer, “that the foreign astronomers of a past day could often use their telescopes in a brilliant sky, like Italy, for instance, whereas in England the most perfect and up-to-date instruments are apt to be put out of use by constant bad weather. Give me an old-fashioned telescope and I will make something of it if there be only a clear sky. Moreover, I think in the olden days men turned more attention to the physical side of astronomy than they do now.”

“As to the supposed stupendous mountains in Venus, we shall soon find out all about it if we are not knocked to pieces,” said the Professor; “but I will point out that the highest earthly mountains are really ten miles high, because they ought to be measured, not as we see them, but from the ocean bed itself. As to Venus, astronomers have noticed certain slight roughnesses on the edge of the crescent, when it appears to us crescent in shape, and these may indicate the tops of mountains caught by the sun’s rays.”

“It’s a great nuisance that Venus is not on the outer side of the earth instead of on the sunward,” said Carysfort. “As the matter stands, when she is furthest off she appears as a full moon, when she is nearest she is only a crescent. Add to this, that she recedes but a short distance from the sun, and is therefore only a morning and evening star.”

So they chatted on while the gulf which separated them from their goal grew less and less. When they retired to rest they were only three millions of miles away.

Meeting at the breakfast-table next morning, the Professor was asked when he thought the journey would be over.

His answer was in about sixty hours; he was gradually reducing the inherent speed, and when the time drew near for the actual descent he would pull against it by increasing the repulsive force of the engines.

Their supply of air, which had been manufactured by chemical process, had worked perfectly, the inner temperature of the Asteroid being always at a moderate level.

As the hours advanced they all noticed a dimness spreading over the heavens; this was caused by the disk of Venus gradually encroaching upon that of the sun. The diminution of the solar light was at first not unpleasing, but when at last it faded out altogether and an intense darkness supervened, relieved only by the stars, the travellers knew by instinct that they were nearing their last and their greatest peril. By lunch-time the size of Venus had become very enlarged, but, unhappily, they could see no feature nor landscape, they could only tell where the planet was by the increasing eclipse of the stars upon the floor of the heavens.

Abercromby wanted them to cut this short, for it was getting on his nerves.

Slowly, and more slowly still, they felt their way down and down into the black gulf.

The Professor and the engineer never left their posts, but only took hurried mouthfuls of refreshment which Jackson brought to them. Poor Jackson was shivering with alarm, which he tried to conceal under a fussy attention to his duties. Even his polishing and scrubbing failed to soothe him.

Frank Abercromby was in a perpetual fidget, now and then asking what the dickens was going to happen, and sometimes making use of unclassical language. Radcliffe stood beside the windows silent, but his face was deadly pale.

When the black globe beneath them covered the whole depth of the sky, Carmichael began to set in motion the repelling power.

It was a terribly anxious crisis, for if he used it too much he might be actually retreating from his destination, if too little, they might be dashed to pieces.

“You had better go down on your knees, Radcliffe,” said Carmichael, “and do for us what is more becoming in you perhaps than in me.”

Radcliffe prayed earnestly and simply that at this awful moment help might be given them, that if they had been presumptuous it was for the good of their fellow-men, not for their own advancement.

Suddenly as he rose from his knees Abercromby shouted, almost crazy with excitement, “Come here, all of you. What is this going on down yonder?”

A dull red illumination appeared, of no great size, but they could not tell how vast it might be in reality.

“It is a volcano, glowing in the atmosphere of Venus, near to the Pole,” said Carmichael. “Now we know to what point to steer.”

Not long after, though minutes seemed ages, a slight rise of temperature became noticeable.

“We are in the atmosphere,” said Carysfort. “Start the fans.”

“They can be set going from within,” exclaimed Carmichael.

The levers were turned and the fan wheels were seen to revolve, though very feebly. Half the peril was over, as far as the descent was concerned, for they had now the means of using their machine as an airship. They steered in a diagonal line towards the burning mountain, and, keeping exactly at the same height, they made use of the summit to guide them as to their level of altitude. A few moments more and a line of brilliant light appeared on the horizon. They were on the North Pole of Venus, four miles from its surface.

In front spread an apparently boundless ocean, encumbered with blocks of bluish and purple-white ice, which of course tended every mile southwards to become smaller and smaller, while, to the north, they were crystallised into vast masses thrown up into the most weird and fantastic shapes. The great sun of Venus, twice as large as the terrestrial sun, flamed in rosy splendour upon the southern horizon. The sea was restless and agitated and a keen wind was blowing. The sky was laden with fleecy clouds of wild and stormy appearance. They were at a vast height, higher even than the Asteroid.

“Well, gentlemen,” said the Professor, “we have faced the greatest hazard ever dared by man, and we look upon what the mortal eyes of humanity have never seen. Now let us take courage and face the problems of the future, resolved that, come what may, we will do our duty.”

CHAPTER VII
THE NORTHERN ISLAND

Carmichael lowered somewhat the height of the Asteroid in a gradual diagonal, till they were only at a moderate altitude, so as to be able to observe anything of interest at reasonably close quarters. The first thing to be done was to ascertain whether the air of Venus was suited to human beings from another world.

Fortunately, the stormy commotion had its seat in the higher regions of the atmosphere, at least on that occasion, so that finding more reposeful conditions nearer to the surface, the Professor advised that the experiment should be tried.

Radcliffe stepped forward to one of the large windows and was about to unfasten when Carysfort shouted out, “Hold, man! are you mad? Do you suppose that we want a whole blizzard of untried air let loose upon us? Allow Carmichael to manage this business.”

Poor Radcliffe stepped back aghast, while Abercromby laughed. The Professor, with a smile, moved to one of the side walls and took down a case of books, which revealed a small round panel about as large as a crown piece. He motioned them to stand clear, and then he touched a spring and the panel flew open.

“Bravo!” said Frank; “you have foreseen every blessed contrivance that we shall want.”

“I only hope I have,” said he. “Now, you fellows, just take a sniff and see how you like it.”

A thin, crisp current of air, slightly perfumed and perfectly delicious, penetrated slowly through the room. The panel was left open for ten minutes, till the Professor, quite reassured, told them that they might enjoy an even larger dose than Radcliffe would have given them—they could venture out upon the balcony. With a hop and a skip Abercromby was in the open air within a few seconds, though he used most unparliamentary language, for the first thing he nearly did in Venus was to lose his hat, he only just contrived to catch it in time, or, as he said, it would have been the first gift that the earth would have bestowed upon a new planet.

“The waves are not much higher than our own waves, though they seem to show a great swell and current,” said the engineer.

“The reason is,” replied the Professor, “that Venus having no moon, and the sun’s attraction making up for it, the tides here will be somewhat like the terrestrial.”

For two hours they sped on to the south, the sun slowly rising in the sky but the heat not increasing to any great or serious extent. The ice-packs had of course disappeared, but the wide open sea stretched before them with its fresh and turbulent waves. At the end of the two hours a great and startling discovery set all their hearts wildly beating with hope. On the southern horizon appeared a line of high cliffs rising straight out of the water, whether they betokened island or continent they could not tell.

As the Asteroid drew nearer—for they increased their rate of speed—they saw with some regret that the cliffs presented no possibility of anchorage or landing-place. Not that this mattered to them, for an airship was quite free and independent of any naval convenience, but it made it most improbable that they would find an inhabited country.

Directly they had soared above the cliffs a cry of delight escaped them: they were in a crater-like land. A lake shone in the centre, while the country, thickly wooded in places and interspread with luxuriant meadow, sloped upwards to a chain of hills about twenty miles away to the south. Westwards they could trace the curving line of the elevated coast, but eastwards it was not so easy to tell how far the land extended.

“Thank God! At last! at last!” exclaimed Radcliffe fervently. “We will be content with what we have.”

“The best attitude in which to look for more,” said the Professor quietly. “There are no traces of human beings, civilised or savage, but the locality will suit perfectly for a few days of rest and quiet explorations.”

“Could we only know there was a city on Venus,” remarked Carysfort, “I should scarcely like to drop down upon it the very first moment. Better to get acclimatised.”

The Asteroid was steered to the south side of the lake, which was long and narrow. The Professor prudently selected a little hilltop looking down upon the lake, but sprinkled with trees and carpeted with rich, soft, mossy grass. Upon this the Asteroid carefully descended. It only required the grappling irons to be fixed in the ground and a lashing of ropes to the stems of two adjacent trees, and then a reasonably secure site would have been gained. It was rather a twilight land, for the sun was hidden behind the hills, but this was a relief and not a disadvantage.

The first thing they did was to sit down to a quiet meal, which they partook of in the machine, for Carmichael would not hear of any out-of-door picnic. He insisted that no excursion should be taken till they had had some hours of sleep, and they were all nearly exhausted.

The Professor and Jackson stepped down and attended to the safe securing of the machine, and then they had, in turns, the longest repose they had ever enjoyed since leaving their own world.

When they met the next morning and were breakfasting, the first thing Abercromby wanted to hear was the programme for the day.

“Now, gentlemen,” said the Professor, “I will just say one word on a certain subject, and then leave it to your good sense and hold my peace. God—for I believe in God—has brought us here after a frightful voyage across space, and perils both at either end, and occasionally in the midst, enough to have sent weaker men stark mad. Don’t let us, by any rashness or indiscretion, throw away all our advantages and perhaps our lives. They belong to the human race, not to ourselves. We want to live to return and to tell what we have seen. The peril of the air is past, but danger lurks in the fruits and flowers, in the water, in the soil, and also among the people, if there are any. Columbus was in no such danger ever, for, though all around him was new and strange, he was still on his own planet. Touch no food till some little time has passed, but live on our own earthly supplies, which will last us several months at the least. Taste no water till I have chemically analysed it. Do not indulge in dangerous climbing. Do not straggle away from the machine—at least, alone—and always carry your revolvers with you, so that you can use them as signals if you need them, not for defence. I should not say half as much as this were we in the wildest part of Central Africa. But here, in Venus, we are just like new-born children with all our experience to make as we go along, and all the learning of earth cannot directly help us, except in guiding our common sense. Now I have said my say. I am pleading for my brothers on the earth, for whom we have done and risked all this.”

“I agree with everything you say,” replied Carysfort, “and will practise it. I suppose Cromwell would tell us, were he alive, to trust in God and keep our eyes open, which will be more important here than keeping our powder dry.”

“I will go about in a bath-chair if it is to benefit humanity,” said Abercromby.

“Very well,” said the Professor, just a tiny bit cross; “I take that remark to mean that you won’t be a donkey. Now let us change the subject.”

They discussed at a considerable length what they should first set about. It was decided that two should be left behind on guard, and that a rocket should be sent up in the event of danger requiring the others to return. The travellers should be absent not more than three hours, they should walk to the western end of the lake and strike the cliffs at the angle of the shore so as to gain some idea of the coast-line away to the southern hills. In the rare event of some terrible danger overtaking them, the Asteroid should be brought to them, to scatter enemies, or to rescue from peril. The Professor would fire off a signal rocket himself. Their guns were not, on this occasion, to be used as signals, as they might want them for other purposes. Carysfort and Jackson consented to remain behind, and gave their word not to move out of sight of the machine, while one of them was always to be within it.

Then the ladder was let down and the party trod the soil of Venus for the first time.

CHAPTER VIII
FIRST EXPLORATIONS

The mossy grass upon which they stepped was of a pale pink colour, indescribably beautiful, while the leaves of the trees were of various tints, though the prevailing colour was a greenish red. Here and there were trees purely green in foliage as on the earth, but these were rather the exception. Of shrub and thicket there was no great profusion, so that even in the woods they could have made their way easily; but they thought it more prudent to skirt the open shores of the lake. Flowers were very scanty, and such as there were did not exhibit either variety or comeliness; but, as the Professor remarked, they were practically in the Arctic circle of Venus and not in any tropical region. The whole landscape seemed very still, for the fierce wind had either died down or was pursuing its course in the upper regions of the mighty atmosphere of Venus. The clouds were grand beyond description, but they did not threaten any outburst of bad weather. The sky was of a paler blue than the earthly sky, and the trailing cloud-belts soared to a much loftier height. Presently they caught sight of several large birds whirling at a vast distance above them; they seemed to be of great size with wide-extended wings. It was not easy to judge of their colour, but they had bills of formidable length; they were soaring away to the plateau of heights that bounded the south, and appeared to be settling upon them.

“This is the first specimen of life we have seen, Professor,” said Radcliffe; “may it prove the herald of that which is nobler and better.”

“Not a trace of it at present,” replied Carmichael; “not a footprint upon the ground, not a mark upon the trees.”

“But I do not see how beings resembling us could get here,” answered Radcliffe, “unless this turns out to be the northern end of a great continent. There is not a place where a ship of any sort or size could disembark anybody. What climber, even if he were a monkey, could mount those stupendous cliffs?”

“Well, now,” said Abercromby, “suppose we have a little chat over probabilities. Don’t you think that it is possible by scientific inference to reason a little as to the people in this planet?”

“How do you propose to start?” said the Professor.

“Is it not a great point, to begin with, that the gravitation force of Venus is the same as ours? On Mars, they tell us, we should be cutting capers every time we put a foot to the ground, while on Jupiter we should be crushed into the very soil and turned into mincemeat.”

“True enough,” said the Professor. “This certainly makes it easier for Venus to be inhabited.”

“Then, again, Venus is younger than the earth, having been evolved from the sun at a later time. May we not argue, then, that we should find its civilised races much less advanced than our own?”

“My dear fellow, your argument bristles over with guesswork. It is not by any means certain that Laplace’s theory about planetary evolution is right, but if it be correct it may prove too much, for we may have arrived here centuries before human life is to begin; and lastly, you cannot argue from one world to another as to the rate at which man advances. Human progress has always been spiral, never in a straight line.”

“There is nothing, so far as I can see, to make life impossible even to us,” observed Radcliffe, “much less to races born and bred upon the planet.”

“Don’t be too sure,” said Carmichael. “How would you propose to eat if we had no supplies of our own? I have not seen a single fruit as yet, whether wholesome or the opposite.”

“Look, look, a waterfall!” cried Abercromby, and sure enough, a stream came foaming over a rocky ledge and poured its waters into the lake.

“Lovely, is it not?” he said to Radcliffe.

“Yes! I suppose so,” answered Radcliffe, gazing at it abstractedly.

“Come along, we have seen cascades and falls in our own country,” said the Professor.

They climbed a small hill at the head of the waterfall, at the summit of which they looked down upon a deeper and thicker belt of forest. Just before entering it they saw some white bones lying bleaching upon the ground; the Professor ran to them and picking up one of the largest very carefully examined it. He said it must have belonged to a large animal which he should judge to have been comparatively harmless, but whether it had died or been torn in pieces it was difficult to say.

So much time had now elapsed that it was judged advisable not to proceed further, but to return to the Asteroid, and then take a longer excursion the next time and continue the same line of exploration. The homeward journey was uneventful till they had come within about half a mile, when they were startled by a gunshot which reverberated right across to the southern hills.

“Good gracious! what is the matter?” said Abercromby. “That must be Carysfort. I always tell him his gun goes off even when he is asleep.”

The Professor looked vexed, for he did not want any sport in Venus; he was no sportsman himself, and he was afraid of attracting dangerous animals. However, when they got in sight of the machine they found that Jackson was the culprit, for he coolly told them he had shot a beast in order to cook him for dinner.

“What the dickens did you do it for?” said Abercromby. “The Professor has said he will not take any food off this blessed world, unless the natives ask him in to afternoon tea.”

“Now, sir, don’t be hard; this ’ere is equal to real cooked sucking-pig; you would want to eat him to the tail if he had one.” All the party laughed heartily. The first slaughtered victim on Venus was a spindle-shaped animal with short stuck-up ears long nose, and fawn-coloured skin.

“Well, he is pretty enough, but I shall stick to my resolve,” said the Professor. So they supped upon terrestrial food after all; but, the next morning, Abercromby broke in upon them with the alarming intelligence that a savage must have been prowling around the machine, for he had come upon the dying embers of a fire and the beast had been nearly all devoured. It turned out that the devourer was Jackson, so he had his first Venusian meat in defiance of orders!

The next day at breakfast there was a rather keen dispute amongst the party as to their future plans. Radcliffe and Abercromby wanted to start the machine, soar over the mountains, and at once decide whether human beings were discoverable or not. But, as the engineer had not yet taken a walk in their present neighbourhood, the Professor gave the casting vote in favour of remaining one more day and finishing the exploration of the country. Accordingly the engineer, accompanied by Abercromby and Radcliffe, set out soon after the meal was finished, while the Professor and his servant stayed behind.

It was not till about six o’clock that the travellers came back. They had met with no special adventures till they had reached some caves about half a mile beyond the cascade. There they had been set upon by a wild beast of a most ferocious character, and, had they not been all close together and well armed, they would have come off badly. It took several shots from Carysfort’s gun before the animal was killed. It had surprised Abercromby first, knocked him down, torn his waistcoat, and had fixed its teeth in his shirt, and might have disabled him but for the coat and belt which he was wearing and for the speedy arrival of the others; with a supreme effort Abercromby managed to thrust a knapsack into the creature’s jaws, and, before it had been able to eject this and grind its way through to his flesh, Carysfort had shot it. The animal was something of the nature of a wolf, though there were many differences. They got back to the Asteroid in a rather excited state. Abercromby had spoiled a suit of clothes and had lost his knapsack. There were, of course, relays of clothing in the hold of the Asteroid, for they had taken care to be amply provided with all necessary things.

The engineer was naturally the hero of the occasion, though he modestly disclaimed all praise. Poor Frank had had such a shaking that it was decided to spend yet another day quietly and to put off the final start until the morrow.

CHAPTER IX
ACROSS THE CENTRAL OCEAN

Early the next day, after they had breakfasted, Abercromby having assured them, with unnecessary vehemence, that he was as “fit as a fiddle,” they decided to resume the direct exploration of the planet. They did not doubt that the result of a twelve hours’ voyage in the machine with the high rate of speed which they had at their command would settle the question whether Venus was inhabited or not; Carmichael himself thought so, as was natural, for he could not have anticipated the setback which awaited them.

At nine o’clock they started. The Asteroid rose to a height of several hundred feet, and, in a few minutes, it had crossed the fertile valley and had begun to mount higher and higher so as to clear the southern mountains. These were not of any considerable elevation, indeed, from the contour of the land their real height was much less than their apparent. But when the summit of the ridge had been gained both Abercromby and Carysfort broke out into a simultaneous volley of unclassical language.

The land came to an abrupt end, and before them stretched away a shoreless ocean.

To say the party were surprised would be to employ too mild a term, they were absolutely thunderstruck. They decided, however, to push on. There was nothing to be gained by a return to the island. They had now explored it sufficiently to be sure there were no human inhabitants.

“I cannot yet believe that this island is the only dry land upon the whole surface of the planet,” said Radcliffe. “A world all ocean with only one island seems unthinkable.”

“Yes! I expect there is more land,” replied the Professor, “but we have yet to discover whether it is suited to human life. Every mile we travel now is leading us on to the hotter regions of Venus, where that terrible sun will of necessity climb higher and higher into the sky and pour down more and more torrid rays. But we must face it.”

On they went at ever-increasing speed, for, over the level surface of the sea, there was no need to slacken. The solitude was appalling, not a sail anywhere, only a few flying-fishes, and, far up in the air, near to the fleecy belts of clouds, whirling flights of birds too remote to be properly studied. And still the sun rose higher and higher, till he would soon be overhead, yet the heat did not increase to any degree that might have been expected. But the clouds increased till they formed a dazzling silvery canopy moderating rather than concealing the light of the sun; moreover, as Carysfort pointed out, they were cutting the air at such tremendous speed that the exhilarating contact with the atmosphere would of itself render the increase of temperature bearable.

Several hours passed away amid strained attention and snatches of talk.

“Surely, Professor,” said Abercromby, “when we got our peep at the lighted side of Venus we caught a glimpse of a large southern continent, and also of a whitish-looking point at the southern pole.”

“Our glimpse was more tantalising than instructive,” he answered, “and my mind was so taken up with the perils of the steering that I did not use my telescope as frequently as I ought.”

“I read in a book which I brought with me,” said Radcliffe, “that the southern horn of the crescent, that is, the south pole of Venus, is constantly to be seen blunted, as though some lofty mountain existed there which caught the solar rays, and it has been said that this may be even twenty-seven earth miles in height.”

“I know to what you allude,” replied Carmichael. “As far back as 1643 irregularities on the planet’s surface (when it appeared as a crescent) were noted by Fontana at Naples. Since then astronomers of several European countries have seen the same thing. Van Ertborn, a Belgian, in 1876, saw more than once a point of light in the neighbourhood of the southern pole, which he thought to be the sunshine striking a high peak, while the valleys around lay in shadow.”

“As to the enormous height ascribed to the mountain,” observed Carysfort, “there is no doubt some error and perhaps a gross exaggeration, but, if there be any corresponding reality at all, we may look out for something inexpressibly grand when we approach the southern pole. I see here an advantage and a drawback: it will be the means of enabling us to behold our own earth, which, of course, is perpetually hidden from the inner side of the planet; but on the other hand, who but some Robinson Crusoe, monarch of all he surveys, could live on the top of a mountain of such proportions? I fear this weighs heavily in the scale against our finding human beings.”

“I never realised I was an ungrateful beggar till this moment,” said Abercromby, “but I have positively forgotten that such a planet as the earth exists. I wonder I did so, as my generous uncle is upon its surface now, thinking me out in Australia, or else gone to the dogs; anyway, he is blessing his stars that he got rid of me with so little fuss. You managed it admirably, Professor. No luckless wastrel ever dropped out more neatly than I did; I might have cheated even the police.”

“We all got off with very little trouble,” said Carysfort. “Had we been Frenchmen or Germans it would have been harder, but England permits any of her sons to vanish quietly, except Tommy Atkins of course, and him she usually allows to starve.”

“Well, well, we are in Venus now and we need not bother over our poor stupid world,” said Abercromby; “besides, we are going back to enlighten it, you know.”

“Land ahead, and not an island this time,” cried Radcliffe; and, behold, a vast range of lofty mountains could be discerned, about fifty miles away, showing clearly against a bank of clouds.

“Well done, old chap,” replied Abercromby. “While we were rating the old world, you, like George Canning, have called into existence a new world to redress its balance.”

“And what are we going to find upon yonder continent when we get there?” asked the Professor.

“Women and men, angels and devils,” replied Frank in an elevated tone. “Which are which you, Radcliffe, shall decide. I’m going below to fetch a new telescope. That beast I had to fight has, I believe, swallowed my old one. I forgot that when Carysfort slew him I might have recovered the instrument, but it would take time to go back across the equator and fetch it.”

The speed of the Asteroid had again to be greatly reduced, and a long interval elapsed ere they reached the summits of the mountains, which formed the outer edge of a vast and dreary plateau destitute of every species of life, animal or vegetable.

As there was no need for them to make a home upon these bleak uplands, they held on upon their southern track. For many miles they saw this desert region beneath them, with its sombre-hued pinnacles and rock masses and its dull red areas of comparatively level ground. But at last their perseverance was to be rewarded. Gradually the nature of the soil changed from utter barrenness to richness, though for a long while the richness was but comparative rather than absolute. Trees began to appear, at first singly, then in groups, and finally in dense masses of brilliantly tinted woodland; the ground sloped downwards, though by no such abrupt transition as had been the case in the northern island. Presently the country began to open out, and, by degrees, one of the grandest landscapes upon which mortal eyes had ever looked became unveiled to view—a fertile and fruitful continent with majestic streams and smaller lakes, grand waterfalls and undulating hills. One thing alone was wanting—the presence of humanity. Another and a still higher mountain-chain with serrated peaks rose to the south, but it must have been at least two hundred miles distant. Beyond them, at all events, the final problem lay, for the whole contour of the landscape negatived the idea that mountains of such elevation could be instantly succeeded by the ocean without any intervening belt of land.

“What do you think of it, Professor?” said the engineer.

“It is just the northern island over again, except on a grander scale,” replied Carmichael. “I begin to realise that our stay in Venus will be very short. When we have once reached the pole and proved whether the high polar mountain is a myth or a reality the game will be up.”

“But surely,” interposed Radcliffe, “the question cannot be settled by travelling in a straight line north to south. Ought we not to go round the lighted side of the planet as well as going down it?”

“Certainly we ought,” answered Carmichael, “if this were only a vessel or an airship; but with our resources at command it will be much easier, and also safer, to rise to such a height as will embrace the whole hemisphere, and then, when it lies as a model map beneath us, to find out whether there is any further land, and drop down straight towards it.”

“Pity, perhaps, we did not do this at the first,” said Abercromby. “We should then have saved ourselves a few disappointments at least.”

“No,” answered the Professor. “I will put up with the disappointments. It was very desirable to come to close quarters with the soil and the products of Venus.”

“Well, here seems a suitable spot for an anchorage,” said Carysfort, pointing to a sequestered glade near the banks of a large river; “suppose we fix upon it and settle ourselves.”

The Asteroid glided down till it rested upon a grassy mound at an elevation of about thirty feet above the river bank. The usual precautions to ensure the safety of the machine were then taken, and while Jackson prepared the tea, the rest stood watching the rapid current as it sped past them in a south-westerly direction.

They were so dead-tired that tea and supper were blended into one, and then Abercromby having undertaken to mount guard, the others gladly succumbed to their drowsiness and fell asleep.

CHAPTER X
WHEN THE RAIN MIST LIFTED

The Professor had just rubbed his eyes in the first moments of waking consciousness, when he heard a yell resound through the machine, but of an unmistakably earthly type. The next moment he had sprung to his feet, thrust on an overcoat, and was up the stairs into the dining-room. Carysfort and the others had emerged with equal speed; Jackson, indeed, with more zeal than conventionality, appeared in his night-shirt.

Abercromby was standing, ghastly pale, his hair erect, every muscle and limb shaking, and pointing to the window. A huge, man-like creature, with reeking jaws, porcupine-like bristles, and one enormous eye in the middle of his forehead, had clambered up the stairway and was tearing at the smooth surface of the glass with claw-like hands. With a cry of horror Carysfort rushed to fetch his gun, but, finding the way to the stair-ladder barred, he stopped and hesitated. As if to make matters worse, two other creatures, equally hideous and furious, flung out their arms and sought to clasp the Asteroid in their foul clutches. Carmichael at once made for the conning-tower and started the machine in an upward flight. The irons tore and creaked, but of course gave way after a minute, while the Asteroid rose over the tree tops, a hundred feet from the ground. With a hideous yell the gorilla creatures let go and were hurled downwards, not to the ground but into the waters of the river. They evidently had no idea of swimming, for, after a brief struggle, they were swept away by the current.

“A pretty appetiser we have had for breakfast,” grumbled Frank Abercromby. “Darwin’s missing link was not in it.”

“How on earth did the monsters first appear?” asked Carysfort.

“My friend, you must say in future ‘How on Venus,’” replied Abercromby. “Well, I had better cry ‘peccavi,’ as the Indian governor did when he wrote ‘I have Scinde.’ I was just going to fall asleep at my post, when that strange and most attractive Johnnie came and looked reproachfully at me. But I wonder I did not go stark staring mad on the spot.”

“Where are we to venture the machine now?” asked Radcliffe, who looked very white though he had said nothing.

“We will keep this side of the river at all events,” said the Professor. They chose another less restricted camping-place, the anchors were made fast, and the party alighted to be quite certain the coast was clear. Radcliffe declared that he heard certain gobblings and chucklings emanating from the thickets hard by, and the others, after attentively listening, believed he was right. They resolved, therefore, to make but a very short stay, in fact, only just sufficient to take their meal. Even Abercromby disclaimed the thought of an out-of-door picnic, and therefore they had breakfast in the dining-room and drew in the stair-ladder as a precaution.

“What concerns me is the thought that those creatures are the real inhabitants of Venus,” remarked Carysfort.

“God forbid!” said Radcliffe fervently. “I cannot and will not think so until I am obliged.”

“If that is evolution illustrated,” remarked Abercromby, “it would have made Darwin himself orthodox.”

“I am by no means disposed to reject evolution,” replied Radcliffe, “because the Creator could work in and through evolution, even if man be descended from a protoplasm as well as from a monkey. All I ask for is that God’s hand should guide the process all through the countless ages. Not that I consider Darwin’s theory proved. I only say that if it ever comes to be, it would not shake my faith.”

“Don’t be too liberal and concessive, my dear fellow,” said the Professor, “though the advice may sound queer as coming from me. Evolution is a theory, not the theory. To make it account for all the facts of creation is to take up one of those short and easy cuts which are as great a nuisance to true science as to anything else. I regard evolution as one of the helpful working forces of the universe. I believe that the original types of animal life were fewer than the existing types. But when I have said that, I no more believe that all life came from a jelly-fish than I believe that every species was distinctly and separately created. People always think that nature is uniform in its ways, while we shall have to learn that it is not. As to the inhabitants of Venus being represented by those creatures, my mind turns sick at the very thought. However, we must face facts, but we will not rush at facts.”

“No, I did not rush at the monster, I waited for fresh light on the situation, and you brought it me, Professor,” said Abercromby. “I should never be eating this breakfast had I taken a short and easy road to knowledge by going out and shaking hands with him.”

“Well, I think we will start,” said the Professor, “when you have done eating, Abercromby.”

“Yes; we will have a good day’s aerial exploration to blow the nightmare off,” remarked the engineer.

They travelled at least a hundred miles over the fair and diversified land before they had accomplished more than half the distance to the southern mountains. Once Radcliffe declared that there were some houses perched upon an eminence to the west, but a careful survey proved that they were only high rocks of white colour shining in the sun’s rays above the forest land. As some doubt was still felt, they shaped their course towards them, for it did not take them many miles out of their way.

It proved to be a tableland of grey-white rocks, several hundred feet above the plain. Here the Asteroid alighted and it was resolved to rest for the night, for the place appeared fairly inaccessible to wild beasts, and if any such were to appear, they could be easily seen before they touched the Asteroid. But there were no traces of wild beasts, though some richly plumed birds made the air melodious with their song for a few minutes. Jackson was preparing the supper, and all except Radcliffe were within. Radcliffe was out on the plateau, wrapped in his thoughts, as Abercromby told them, as well as in his greatcoat.

“Well, I wish the dear fellow would not express them in that everlasting tune,” said the engineer; “he has been well on for a quarter of an hour, and it rather gets on my nerves.”

“It is one of the melodies those fiddlers were playing at Cullercoats,” remarked the Professor, “‘Love launched a fairy boat,’ I believe.”

“The prettiest song I ever heard, that, and ‘All in the hush of twilight,’” said Abercromby; “but alas and alack! there is no maiden to sing with me, though we are in the Love planet itself.”

“No! that is quite true,” replied the Professor dryly.

Radcliffe came in, happily unconscious of the late topic of criticism.

They took their places at the supper-table, when one of the most startling interruptions that had ever yet tried their nerves broke in upon the meal.

Overhead they heard a loud noise followed by a wailing cry. It seemed to come from the north, to attain to a piercing intensity, and then to die away southwards into tremulous silence.

“What the deuce is that?” shouted Abercromby; and, before the others could stop him, he had opened the door, and, regardless of the absence of the steps, had bounded out upon the plateau. There they saw him throwing his arms to and fro, and wildly gesticulating to them the other side of the windows. They could see he was in no danger, but mad with eagerness and excitement.

The whole party sprang to their feet and were by his side in two minutes. They looked in the direction in which he was wildly pointing, and saw a huge greyish thing, with outspread fans, whirling away to the mountain heights and then vanishing behind them.

The Professor, after a moment’s dead silence, said: “This is very serious; let us come within.”

“Why very serious?” asked the engineer, when they were again at the supper-table.

“Because it means one of two things, either of which will greatly affect us. It is either a huge primeval monster, or a flying machine like our own, in so far as it is an airship.”

“And why are either of these things so grave after all?” said Abercromby. “If that affair yonder were an airship, your heart ought to be glad, Professor; if a monster, it has the right to be sorry, your heart I mean; but why alarmed?”

“If it be a monster, Abercromby, we have come to Venus too soon to find intelligent human life. Such creatures could hardly co-exist with man in a world which, for practical purposes, has but so little accommodation. If it be an airship, then we are going to meet a race incapable of being either terrified by us, or even much astonished by us, who can meet us on equal terms, man to man, but may be armed millions against armed units. Now you understand what I fear, and why I fear it.”

“Take it easy, Professor, we may astonish the niggers after all; but I must say I want to see them, even if it be only possible for them to astonish me. We will sing them a song or two before we die, Professor.”

The night was far from being a restful one under such circumstances. Two were placed on guard, to relieve each other every three hours. On the next day they found it impossible to start, as a thin, penetrating rain descended, the first they had experienced upon Venus. It continued, without cessation, for several hours, while the whole valley lay enwrapped in a silvery mist. The Asteroid afforded them a secure asylum, but, in their state of eager excitement, the time passed very slowly.

At last, soon after they had had their lunch, the mist began to disperse and the sun shone out in splendour. The air was much fresher and cooler; had they not been so naturally impatient to push on, they would have taken a walk, at least along the ridge of the plateau. But they were in no mood to do this—they were hunting for niggers, as Abercromby elegantly phrased it, and as nobody else overheard him, it did not much matter.

The Professor ordered the start at about 3 p.m. by their watches. The Asteroid was set at fairly high speed, and soon reached the slopes of the mountains. A few miles to the west they saw a huge gap or defile, and towards this they steered. A great wall of precipitous rock shelved downwards in the direction in which they had come, but, to the south, a pass extended of varying breadth, sometimes almost too narrow for the whole of them to walk abreast.

The Asteroid was therefore in a rather awkward position; they could descend if they liked and make the journey on foot, but, in such a place, it seemed too hazardous to deprive themselves of the aid of their machine. They decided therefore to rise higher, and to follow the course of the pass, but at a safe elevation above it. In a few minutes the pass ended, they came out over a grassy upland height, but, unfortunately, the rain mist had now taken up its position to the south of them, and though there was evidently a grand landscape prospect, it was, for the present, completely wiped out.

A clump of lofty trees reared their heads a few hundred yards away, and to these they steered, coming to an anchorage beneath them. The party gladly took shelter in the dining-room, for they began to be positively chilly, doubtless owing to the peculiar state of the atmosphere, perhaps, even, to their restless nerves.

Neither cold nor rain could deter Clarence Radcliffe from venturing to the end of the clump of trees where the ground sloped suddenly downwards. He saw the mist begin to uncoil and lift itself; slowly the outlines grew clearer and more distinct. Feature after feature of a country, rich in its loveliness, disclosed themselves. High hills were interspersed with park-like glades; a lake of superb dimensions appeared, glittering in the sunshine, into which two majestic rivers poured their rapid waters. In the midst was a large island, and in the centre rose an object that sent the blood tingling through his veins—a colossal palace fortress or temple, with four graceful pinnacles each glittering with a different hue of colour—while beyond the lake was a greater sight still, at which, after a glance of fascinated admiration, he turned away, his eyes dim with tears. “O that one had been here to see it with me, but it was not to be. Her eyes behold a landscape with which even this cannot compare. If I could but know she was looking at me now, I should be more brave to do what perhaps lies before me. But I know she would wish me to do it, and I will.”

Then he turned and went back to the Asteroid. They were all in the dining-room making preparations to start for a walk, as the weather was clearing. But all stood petrified at the expression on his face.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “I have chanced to see what you should all have seen with me. I owe you an apology. Come at once.”

They rushed out to the edge of the great precipice and stopped, absolutely incapable for the moment either of speech or action. The vast plain was dotted with houses and palaces, each standing in its grove and garden, while up the sides of the two southern hills that sloped towards the lake shore stretched the outlines of a great city, its domes, towers, and pinnacles shining in the light of a sun more splendid than the sun of India, yet tempered in its rays by the white-robed circle of the sky.

The object of the expedition was accomplished; before them lay the life, the civilisation, and the glory of the planet Venus.

CHAPTER XI
THE CITY AND ITS WELCOME

“My friends,” began Carmichael in an almost trembling voice, “there is no need for me to tell you that the supreme hour has come at last. All that we have dared and anything we may have suffered has led up to this, and we may put it behind us. Before us now lies the solemn duty of doing the right thing for two worlds and so acting that we shall not make our return home impossible, for if we do we only benefit ourselves. Now the first thing to face is the initial peril, the greatest as well as the nearest. A glance suffices to show us that force is out of the question, and that we cannot play the part of demi-gods even if we wished to. How, then, shall we best and most wisely disclose ourselves to those people, who of course cannot speak a word of any language with which we are familiar, whose manners are as unknown to us as their weapons, and who may even have totally different ideas as to both justice and mercy from any terrestrial races.”

“You state a big problem, Professor,” replied Carysfort, “but I think it will conduce to simplify it if we decide first of all whether we shall boldly venture into their midst or approach them in deferential guise.”

“Stick to our good old machine, that is my advice,” said Abercromby; “if they have artillery or other contrivances to blow us up they can the more easily destroy us piecemeal if we take a walking tour and present ourselves as solitary wayfarers.”

“That cannot be thought of,” said Carmichael. “The choice lies between soaring towards the city in the air, or pitching quite near to it and keeping close to the Asteroid.”

“A thought occurs to me,” said Radcliffe, “that it might not be a bad plan to entrench ourselves where we are, but not to leave them to find us out, which would be cowardice, but to signal to them and make them send a deputation to us. This would force them to show whether they meant to be friendly or hostile.”

“Excellent, capital!” said Frank Abercromby. “But what signals do you propose?”

“The rockets,” answered Radcliffe.

“I think the idea is feasible and also wise,” said the Professor thoughtfully. “Its chief merit lies in this, that but a small number can come to us in this elevated place, whereas if we went to the city we should have the whole multitude upon our hands. The going to the city or encamping near to it might well suggest to them hostilities, whereas our signalling to them could not be regarded in such a light.”

The decision having been taken, it only remained for them to put it into execution, and this they resolved to do at once. Having seen to their arms and ammunition, the rocket apparatus was placed in readiness, and the first rocket was discharged by the Professor. It rose into the sky with a loud explosion, and the fiery train must have been visible to every part of the city. A few minutes later a second rocket was discharged and after that a third.

“These must suffice,” said he; “we must not waste our supply.”

Some little time elapsed during which the party closely examined every part of the scene before them with the help of their telescopes. They were too far off to make out the inhabitants, but they could gain clear information as to the houses. The architecture was somewhat Oriental in character, though Radcliffe thought that it bore a resemblance to the accounts given of ancient Mexico and Peru in the histories of Prescott. There were broad streets and squares with fountains and gardens in the midst; the larger houses were of very imposing aspect. There seemed no evidence of squalor or poverty anywhere, but of affluence and repose. In fact, repose was one of the prevailing features.

It was a veritable garden city or pleasure city; there was neither hurry nor tumult. They noted also an utter absence of fortification or military defence. Either the Venusians had no enemies on their planet who could molest them, or they had concealed weapons and resources that rendered visible precautions needless.

Suddenly they all noticed a small object rise up like a bird upon the wing from the terrace of a huge palace on the top of the highest hill. It was evidently coming towards them, and that rapidly.

“An airship I declare,” cried Abercromby. “That, then, was the object that gave us such a fright the other evening.”

The flying vessel came nearer and nearer; it was more graceful and ethereal than the Asteroid, though the machinery by which it was propelled was much the same in character. It had no outer balcony, nor did it seem to carry any weapons. It slowed down within a few yards of them, and then a click was heard, a panelled door flew open, and two beings alighted, evidently a man and a woman. They were about the same height as average terrestrials; they had a pale complexion with a slight yellowish tinge; their dress was simple, a flowing classical-like drapery with a girdle of crimson. They wore upon their heads tiaras of gold, while the woman’s head was adorned with a coronet. Each carried in the hand a small tube of green-coloured metal.

Carmichael, motioning to the others to stand back, while keeping his hand upon his revolver in case of need, stepped forward, bowing and smiling, and making every demonstration of peace and goodwill. The two Venusians did not reciprocate his advances; their whole bearing was haughty and aloof.

The Professor spoke a few words, and tried the expedient of leading forward each of his companions and presenting them.

The strangers conversed rapidly with each other in a very musical and harmonious language. The man was rather eager and excited, the woman haughty and stern. Suddenly she raised the tube in her hand and pointed it at the Professor.

Radcliffe sprang forward and interposed to shield him, guessing the deadly intent. At this she lowered the weapon and said a few words to her companion. He nodded, and she pointed the green metal tube not at them but at a tall tree a little to the right; a faint flash followed, and suddenly the tree stood blasted before them as by a stroke of lightning. A cry broke from the party and all drew their revolvers; but Radcliffe spoke an earnest word and, taking his own weapon, he laid it upon the ground. This was understood, and the two Venusians replaced their metal tubes in their girdles.

They paused a moment, then they made signs to Radcliffe to approach them. The man took the hand he stretched out and grasped it; the woman would not, but her lips parted into the semblance of a smile which at least denoted a relaxing of enmity. Struck by a thought, the Professor hurried to fetch a large map of the solar system with all the planets and their orbits clearly marked. Radcliffe held this out to the Venusians, who took it and examined it with the greatest interest, making frequent comments one to the other.

Abercromby, who would have made his fortune on the stage, then went through a pantomimic performance to describe the purpose of the expedition and the course which it had taken. The Venusians looked on, till the man grew impatient and the woman more and more scornful.

Suddenly Radcliffe pointed to the map, and described with his pencil the journey of the Asteroid from the earth to Venus. He took a sheet of white paper and drew sketches of Venus as a planet and of the Asteroid approaching her. The Venusians were now intensely interested, and even pressed him by signs to tell them more. He went on for another quarter of an hour, till they signified that they had heard enough. They did not condescend to take further notice of the others, but shook hands with him, this time both of them, pointed once and again in the direction of their city, stepped into their machine, and instantly took to flight, returning in the same direction as that in which they had come.

“A queer business this,” said Abercromby. “You were evidently in high esteem, Radcliffe, old man; that amiable female meant to put daylight through us, as the Americans say, if you had not curried favour.”

“Abercromby, don’t be jealous,” said Carysfort; “some other Venusian maid will fall in love with you if you have a little patience and do not expect to take a whole planet by storm.”

“I’m not a bit jealous,” said Abercromby, “only Radcliffe captivated both the jokers, and did not leave us even the man.”

“Well, he saved all our lives, except at the expense of a deed which would have aroused the whole world against us,” replied the Professor. “But we must now decide, and quickly, upon what is to be done next.”

“Follow them to the city, as they pointed the way to it,” said Radcliffe.

“I think we had better do so,” answered Carmichael; “their gestures certainly wore the aspect of invitation, if not of command.”

“I scarcely think we are very sure of a friendly reception,” observed the engineer, “and yet if we stay here, they will hunt us out, or capture us by main force.”

“Where is Jackson?” asked Carmichael.

“Down in the store-room,” said Abercromby sarcastically. “When the Venusians got ready their shots he bethought himself that the kettle wanted watching. My old grandfather, who used to dine on board ship with Charlie Napier and the other paladins of the ‘roaring fifties,’ once heard a naval captain tell a story of how a black cook ran down into the stoke-hole as soon as the French or the Russians commenced firing. Well, the officer hauled him up on deck and rated him for a cowardly rascal. The nigger was equal to the occasion. ‘Good heart, massa!’ he said; ‘good heart! bad legs, massa, bad legs! Legs run away with the heart!’”

Carmichael laughed, and then the whole party got inside the Asteroid, and the engines being set in motion, they rose high into the air and winged a straight flight to the great city.

As a measure of prudence, the Professor raised the altitude of the Asteroid a mile above the ground, and shaped his course for the terraced building on the hill. They could see vast multitudes pouring out of the houses and standing, pointing with upraised arms to the machine, and watching intently its every movement.

At last the great palace lay below them, and they slowly descended till they alighted upon the ground in the courtyard. Hardly had they done so when excited crowds of men and women came rushing forth.

In a moment, before the travellers had had time to give explanations by signs, they were seized by furious hands, their weapons struck from them, and they would soon have been torn in pieces had not two officials, in gorgeous attire, thrust their way forward and spoken some words in a high and authoritative tone. Then the crowd fell back, still uttering such cries of rage and fury that they expected each moment would be their last. But the officers of the court kept their authority, and Carmichael, Carysfort, Abercromby, and Radcliffe were led into an adjoining room, where their hands were tightly bound, and they were bidden to follow. They were then dragged along a number of passages till they arrived at last before a door which, on being opened, led into a small quadrangle open to the sky, with a few shrubs and flowers growing in the centre, and several rooms opening into it, one large, the others small. Then the officers released them from their fetters and immediately departed.

The first thing the ill-fated travellers did when the door closed upon them was to count their numbers, and then they made the startling discovery that there was one missing.

“Where is Jackson?” asked the Professor, in a transport of alarm.

“Don’t trouble about him,” said Carysfort; “he is safe in the machine.”

“Good heavens! How came we to leave him?” said the Professor.

“He is better off than we are,” remarked Carysfort; “he has the means of escape, while we are trapped.”

“I suppose the next event will be the lord high executioner,” muttered Abercromby. “Why were we such idiots as not to stick to the Asteroid?”

“Well, it is done now,” replied Carmichael; “but remember that with their weapons, of which we have had a sample already, they could have not only destroyed us but wrecked the Asteroid as well. A mob hammering at the windows could soon have effected an entrance. But if I did lose my head for a minute, I can only ask your forgiveness. As to poor Jackson, he is free to do what we did not or could not do, and I think he will have had sense enough to get away and loyalty enough not to go away altogether. Anyway, God alone can protect us now.”

“I, who have the least interest in living,” said Radcliffe, “beg you all not to give up hope. Just consider, even if the Venusians had come down upon London and smashed the dome of St. Paul’s, English justice would not kill them without full enquiry, and all the scientists in the world would clamour for their lives to learn what secrets they had to tell. So it will be with us, depend upon it; we shall be allowed to live, though I fear we shall never be allowed to return. For your sakes, and for the world’s sake, I am deeply sorry, though personally I would prefer to live here till the call comes to go where the wicked cease from troubling and where the weary are at rest.”

Abercromby was just about to expatiate on the better prospects they might have had in Mars when the door opened, and some men appeared bearing food and drink upon a large platter. This done, they retired, without a word, though it would have been of little use to have attempted conversation.

“I believe we shall be kept alive till we have learned their blessed language,” muttered Abercromby; “and we had better assume at once that it takes as long to learn it as Chinese. Meantime we can grow fat at the Government expense. I wonder who bosses the show here, whether king, queen, president, or council of elders. Also whether Free-trade or Protection is in the ascendant?”

But poor Abercromby’s jokes fell very flat upon the weary and dispirited men, who ate their meal and then stretched themselves upon the none too luxurious couches provided for them and fell asleep, wishing they could wake up to hear the waves beat upon Northumbria’s shore in their Cullercoats lodging or in the lonely house at Newbiggin.

Two days passed in the same miserable uncertainty. Three times during each day they were waited on by silent attendants; their food was of the nature of dough cakes, and their drink was of a light kind of fruity wine, very palatable but somewhat disposed to bring on a state of drowsiness if they partook too freely of it.

They were at full liberty to promenade the courtyard, and to wander in and out of the adjoining rooms. They scarcely ever caught sounds from the outside world, except, now and again, the singing of birds.

But one day, just after they had risen, they heard Abercromby calling them from the parlour or dining-room in tones hoarse with excitement. He was holding in his hand a number of sheets of paper.

“Come here, all of you, and solve this riddle for me. I want you to prove to my own private satisfaction that I am neither mad nor drunk.”

“What have you got there?” said Carysfort. “Why! bless my stars! this is some of our manuscript paper from the Asteroid. Where did you find it?”

“On the table here, staring me in the face.”

The Professor took up the sheets, scanned them very carefully, and then said, “This is an alphabet of the Venusian language, and here are lists of Venusian words and phrases. Now we see that Radcliffe’s theory is quite correct. This is our first lesson in the language, and it will no doubt be followed by many others. It is clear now that our lives are safe, till we are able to render a complete account of our unlucky selves, and perhaps afterwards, if we give satisfaction.”

“That is all very well so far as it goes, Professor,” replied Abercromby, “and it is a great convenience and a skilful piece of work. But one thing seems for a moment to have escaped your notice.”

“What is that?” asked Carmichael quickly.

“Where the dickens does the English come from and who holds the chair of terrestrial languages in this planet’s university?”

“Forgive me, Abercromby; for the moment I was so taken up with the personal aspect of this discovery that I forgot the more amazing side of it. Now am I utterly thunderstruck, and have not a word to say.”

“Of all the things that have befallen us since we left the earth this transcends every one of them,” replied the engineer.

Radcliffe ventured the remark that the Venusians must have taken possession of the Asteroid and stolen the paper, or else poor Jackson must have been compelled to give it up.

The Professor admitted that this was quite possible, but it did not elucidate the amazing problem of how English could be known in Venus.

The Professor sat with his head buried in his hands. Radcliffe took up the paper and scrutinised each of the English words.

“There are but three suppositions,” remarked Carmichael at length. “One, that some Englishman or American has forestalled us. This, I think, is absurd; the very attitude of the people is opposed to it. Another, that the Venusians possess powers unknown to man and can master other forms of speech at will. But, if that were so, they might talk to us at once. There is one theory more—pure and absolute miracle—the act of God. On this I am too reverent by nature to offer any criticism. I confess myself to have received as astounding a shock to my intellect as our casualty has dealt to our liberty and our hopes.”

CHAPTER XII
NEEDFUL PREPARATIONS

As they had all suspected, a change soon came over the situation; they had a task set them to do, and this was to learn the language of the country.

Every day both men and women came to their prison to give them instructions, which they carried on by signs, by pictures, by every conceivable method. They submitted with the best grace they could, although they could not tell to what this education process was destined to lead, whether to life or to death. Carmichael was at a disadvantage, for he had never developed an aptitude for learning languages, and it was said that he had got through his “Little Go” at Cambridge with considerable difficulty, as his laurels were gained in another field. The engineer was a man of many tongues, as he had travelled much, both in Mexico and South America. Abercromby always spoke of himself as a hopeless dunce, but it was often noticed that he found the way to learn whatever he really wished to learn. As to Clarence Radcliffe, he threw his whole soul into the work—a process which on this occasion stood him in good stead, as, in ordinary cases, languages were not his strong point.

The mystery of the English writing was not solved. Radcliffe persisted in thinking that the two people who had visited them on the hillside were the authors of it. There was some plausibility in this, for they may have meant it as a return for the trouble he had taken with them over the diagrams and the solar-system map. But plausible as the suggested motive might be, it did not explain how they could have carried it out.

When a little progress had been made Carmichael one day showed the papers to some who had come to teach them. He was surprised to find that they evinced little or no curiosity or astonishment. The reason, however, soon appeared. They thought that the prisoners had written the words for themselves, and it was the presence of their own words, not of the English words, that they specially noted. When the Professor understood this, Carysfort earnestly advised him to let the matter drop, for in their helpless position indiscreet disclosures or even questions might get them all into trouble. They would soon find out for themselves what powers the wise men of the planet really had. “Besides,” he said, “I am convinced by a minute study of the letters that they were never written by one to whom our language was familiar; their shape is quite stilted and foreign.”

Carmichael was satisfied now that they had not been forestalled by some traveller from earth.

They early made discovery of the name by which Venus was known to its own people. Venusian was not a pleasing term, and did not sound so well as Atalantan. The planet was called Atalanta, which meant “the flowery land.” As there was but one nation, one empire, dwelling upon it, Atalanta was the name given to both the country and its metropolis. The beautiful vale in which the city stood with the great lake from whose shores its steep ascents took their rise was Meloria; the broad spreading high hills bounding the vale to the north were the Keraunian Mountains, so called from an ancient king of Atalanta who had saved the life of the child of one of the noblest of his subjects, while climbing their heights, at the expense of his own.

Carmichael was told that his supposition of a high mountain near the southern pole was correct. It was a peaked mountain called Aptaura, and was twenty miles above the sea-level, the highest point on the planet.

The earth was known to the Atalantans as Karamandra, “Queen of the cold night”; Mercury, which was the only planet visible from the lighted hemisphere, was called Araminta, the bright flashing; while the sun was Asti, the furnace, though he had other titles connected with the Atalantan religion.

Carmichael saw that it was useless to seek any information as to what was going to happen to them, nor would his teachers tell much about their politics or customs. The travellers even suspected that any questions they put were noted down. Radcliffe got on the best, as he only made enquiries about their beliefs, and on this point they were willing, as far as he was concerned, to be a little more communicative, though it is to be feared that he was not greatly encouraged by what they told him.

On the other hand, the Atalantans put very few questions themselves and these only of a harmless sort. It was evident that they had no intention of treachery, but how much of what the travellers said was reported elsewhere, the latter could not be equally certain.

One evening the party were seated in their parlour, when Abercromby asked the Professor to tell them what he had been able to glean as to Atalantan matters.

“Well,” replied Carmichael, “my supply of talk is but scanty, but it may while away the time to piece it together. I have ascertained that there exists no variety of race upon the planet; that these people have been settled here for a couple of thousand years at least; that they are descended from a pair, pretty much after the Bible account of Adam and Eve, only much more recent in time; that they were originally patriarchal in government, but that gradually the kingly power grew and grew until it became what it is now, a sort of benevolent autocracy rather resembling that of the ancient Incas of Peru. The growth of the race has been exceedingly slow compared with that of earthly races, but I have an opinion that this is largely due to the deliberate will of the people themselves, who know that they have but a small available territory for the comfortable support of life in a civilised form. Towns and cities do not exist, nor distinct villages. There is but the giant capital and scattered and independent country houses. There is an extension of the land southwards forming a peninsula called Anactorium; the land then ends near the south pole with the giant mountain Aptaura, on which is situated an observatory for the study of the heavenly bodies, our earth included.

“Off the south-western coast is a large island called Melandria inhabited by a somewhat more hardy population, of which island the princess Melanitis is said to be very fond.

“Now, Carysfort, you take up the cudgels, and tell us what your supply of knowledge is.”

“Not very much,” muttered the engineer. “These folk have found out how to steer airships about two hundred years ago, and it seems they use them for all purposes of travel. This is why, except in Melandria, there are few roads and fewer vehicles. Before the airship came in they used palanquins and litter-travelling for the aristocracy, while the rest of the people walked. The aristocracy consist of those only who have done deeds of kindness or valour, such as the Royal House may think worthy of wearing the crimson sash, the tiara, and the coronet; their children inherit their honours till they do anything disgraceful and then the title lapses.

“Sir Thomas More and Gulliver ought to have lived in this land before writing their terrestrial books.”

“How are the people fed?” asked Radcliffe.

“Everybody grows his own produce and makes his own furniture and clothes,” said Carysfort. “All the central and northern lands are the free property of the state. Anybody can take what he wants if he has the energy to go there. If he has not, then he must have a poorer house and wear shabbier clothes.”

“How do they elect the king?”

“The crown descends from sire to son, or from sire to daughter, for one hundred years, then the nobility meet in conclave and elect the worthiest man or woman of their number. If they cannot agree, the reigning sovereign may hold the throne till death; but this has only happened twice.”

“Now, Abercromby, tell us your discoveries,” said Carmichael.

“The king has two daughters, Melanitis and Mexitli,” he answered; “the former will be queen on her father’s death, and he is a very old man.

“I am afraid after all, Professor, you are much to be commiserated that you did not go to Mars. It is a feminine world, Professor, in the worst of all senses, that men appear to be in a position of distinct inferiority. They do all the work, and what the others do I have not clearly learned at present, but when I know I will tell you. So far as I can find out, their rule is decently benevolent, but I shudder to think of the exceptions. I suppose it will all figure out right; if it doesn’t we shan’t be here to see.”

“I believe you are humbugging,” laughed Carmichael.

“I will tell you a pathetic story,” continued Abercromby. “I happened to ask one of the most recent damsels who came here to complete my studies if the princesses were good-looking. She got in such a rage that I asked her what the dickens she meant by it. As she failed to understand me, my words soothed her, and then with the airs of all the queens from Semiramis to Victoria, she demanded by what right a Karamandran barbarian from outer space presumed to ask such a thing respecting the two fairy pillars upon which Atalanta would one day rest. She told me I was only fit to herd with mangas, and I told her she was enough to make a cat laugh like Charlie’s Aunt, but I spoke in English, of course.”

“What is a manga?” asked Radcliffe.

“I fear it is one of those dear monkeys that made me howl and wake the Professor, but I am not sure.

“I think we will agree not to ask Radcliffe what he has found out, for we are hardly in a fit mood for serious talk, and I don’t think he wants to tell us,” continued Abercromby.

“No, not to-night,” said Radcliffe. “I told Frank that I was afraid they worshipped the sun, and he consoled me by saying they would not think of worshipping the moon, because Venus had not got one.”

As Radcliffe himself laughed the whole party saw no harm in doing the same.

Three days later a most remarkable event occurred. This was nothing less than the arrival of Jackson, with his hands fettered, it is true, but the guards told them they might release him at once.

“Well, Tom, old friend and comrade, I am glad to see you,” said Carmichael warmly.

“More glad than I am to see myself,” answered Jackson. “I don’t know how I can bear to tell you all that has happened.”

“It was not your fault,” said his master kindly. “Let us hear the worst at once—the machine has been taken away or destroyed.”

“Not so bad as all that, sir; it is put under lock and key and strongly guarded. When I saw you made prisoner I thought I would set the engines going, soar up, and play a game in the sky which would frighten them, but I never got the chance; they swarmed in, knocked me down, after I had sent some of them down, bound me hands and feet, and fastened me to one of the couches in the dining-room. Then they began poking their blessed noses into every nook and corner, and there I was swearing and cussing and not able to do nothing to stop them.

“Presently they takes me and opens my mouth and puts something in that sends me straight off asleep for the next twenty hours. When I wakes up some low-looking fellows were standing over me and feeling me about, and I put out my tongue in case it was a doctor. Well, they brought me food and drink, and I was that mad hungry and thirsty I cleared the plate and mug, I can tell you, and then off I went to sleep again, and this was pretty much how I was treated till this morning, when they took me out of the machine and brought me to you. They had moved the machine with me in it while I was unconscious.”

“Did they teach you to speak their language?” asked the Professor.

“Not they, sir. They didn’t think me up to it, I suppose.”

“Well, they have taken no end of pains to teach us,” said Abercromby, and he told Jackson the extraordinary incident of the English words.

“I believe I can make that out, sir,” said Jackson.

The Professor looked amazed, but he only said, “If you can, Tom, you will take quite a load off my brains.”

“It was one of their monkey tricks they played on me, depend on it, sir. When I got my senses back, I saw one of the rascals holding sheets of our manuscript paper in his hand. I believe he just went and mesmerised me, and got me to say and do all he wanted. Of course, if they were after teaching you their lingo, they would start much the quicker by helping you to put their work into our letters, and I am sure that was how they did it; they made me say and write the English alphabet when they had got me like wax in their hands and I had no power to fight them. But if I did you a good turn, sir, I’ll forgive them.”

“Now we have got the key at last,” says Carysfort. “We need not trouble any more about it.”

The next morning Cleito, the commandant of the palace guard, entered their parlour and said to them: “Four days from now, strangers from Karamandra, and you will stand before the Royal House in the Hall of Audience and of Perfect Justice, and you will reply to the questions put to you by the king and by the princesses his daughters, and as your answers shall be good or evil in their sight, so shall your destiny be.”

“It has come at last,” said Radcliffe.

CHAPTER XIII
THE FIRST ORDEAL

Four days later, at nine o’clock by their earthly time, the men from Karamandra were bidden to follow their escort of guards. Their hands were fastened by a light chain which afforded some facilities for movement, and they were led in single file between a double row of armed men to the terrace upon which they had so rashly alighted. At the south end stood a splendid building approached by a noble portico. Into this they entered, and passing along a magnificent vestibule, the door of a pillared hall was thrown open and they found themselves led up the centre of a vast dome-shaped building with tiers of seats on either side, one rising above the other, and filled to overflowing with a countless sea of human faces, the expressions of most being set and stern in their hostility. On the central dais were two semicircular rows of elegant and carved seats evidently for the highest in rank, while in front were three thrones with gorgeous canopies, the central occupied by a most majestic-looking old man and those on either side by his daughters Melanitis and Mexitli.

They were both extremely beautiful with the pale tint that so characterised the daughters of Atalanta, but there was a difference between them, especially in manner and bearing. The elder, the Queen designate, was much more humble than her sister—we might almost say timid and ill at ease. The younger was haughty, overbearing, and dominating, and yet with a sullen expression as though she had not the power to do all she wished. She fixed a supercilious glance at the terrestrial party, looking from one to the other, but taking not the least notice of one more than the other.

But Melanitis had no sooner looked on the faces of Abercromby and Radcliffe, who stood the nearest to her, than she uttered a faint cry as though stricken, her features became rigid, and she clutched at the arms of her throne for support.

The King turned to her and said, “Child of my heart, what aileth thee?”

“Only a solar faintness, my lord,” she replied. The King ordered one of the fan-bearers to minister to her.

The incident passed with little notice. Radcliffe did not see it, for his eyes were fixed upon the King, who was a grand specimen of dignified old age. Abercromby saw it, and a puzzled grin (not very wise under the circumstances) overspread his countenance.

“King of Atalanta, pride and ornament of thine ancient house,” said the deep voice of a white-robed official of the palace, “and you, princesses, pillars of the kingdom, fairest jewels set in the midst of the motherland, you see these strangers who have, by an unparalleled daring, crossed the myriad depths of space and thrust themselves in the midst of us. Their machine is controlled by a power we do not possess and whose secrets they alone know. But they themselves are weak and helpless as others, and it is for you to declare whether it best accords with the well-being of Atalanta that they live or die. Let justice and mercy each have their rightful place, yet by all means remember that this is an event that may leave lasting traces upon us, and as we act now so may we be compelled to act hereafter. For the first time since He came who passed from us on His way to Karamandra, no being, whether mortal or immortal, has ever visited us who did not previously belong to us. We have lived under the silence of the stars, and as each generation has gone to the Mansions of the Blest or to the Realm of the Endless Shadow they have walked in the wisdom of their fathers. But now it may be that some fuller opportunity may be granted to us, if we act wisely and well.”

The King leaned forward, and addressing Carmichael said, “Are you from Karamandra and also your companions?”

“We are,” said the Professor.

“Did the king of your world send you on a mission to us?”

“There is no king of Karamandra; our world is peopled on both sides of its surface with nations, races, and tribes in varying degrees of culture and resources, but independent, though some are linked together by bonds and alliances.”

“How many people live in your world?”

“About twelve hundred millions.”

An exclamation of horror echoed round the hall.

“How long have they dwelt upon its surface?”

“We have different theories on the subject,” said Carmichael, with a sly look at Radcliffe.

“If your world has many kings, which of them sent you?”

“None; we came of our own selves.”

There was a murmur of amazement.

“Who, then, discovered the secret of how to journey from one world to another?”

“I did, and also my companion here,” pointing to Carysfort.

“When did you discover it?”

“Many months ago.”

“Will you tell it to us?”

“That depends upon how you treat us.”

Mexitli started to her feet. “Let the insolent barbarian say no more, for the land cannot endure his words. His own Sovereign would cast him out; much more shall not the sacred Majesty of Atalanta?” Then, pointing at Radcliffe, she said, “If my father wills I will question him, for he it is who saved the life of my cousin Mayana from the murderous intent of these men.”

The King nodded acquiescence. The woman’s questions were less academic.

“Why did you come here?”

“My companions had no other object than to benefit their fellows by increasing their own knowledge. They made choice of this planet because less was known about it than of those worlds that lie in an orbit exterior to our own. Being of the same size with our own world, my leader naturally hoped to find those upon its surface with whom he could hold intelligent converse, and both receive and impart useful knowledge.”

“We require no teaching from outer space,” answered Mexitli, “though there are some in this hall disloyal enough to think so.”

“The God of Heaven does not give even to every Atalantan equal gifts with every other, and yet there may be little things in which the highest may receive a helping hand from the lowest. I know the misery and unrest of my own world, and yet the God of Heaven has cared for it. Most gladly will I explain these things in public or in private if I may be suffered to do so.”

“You would be better advised first to look out for your own personal safety, that is the present consideration. You and yours do not seem to understand that you have committed more than one atrocious crime since you invaded our borders. Then, too, the demeanour of your companions has been most insolent, as though they expected to be welcomed with honours in a land which neither knew of them nor desired them. As for you individually, I might perhaps advise the King my father to show you a measure of favour, but the time has not come yet. You have leave to satisfy my curiosity on one point. How did the God of Heaven show His care for Karamandra?”

“By sending His only Son, the Prince of Heaven, to save them by turning their hearts back again to Himself.”

A violent movement of surprise pervaded the hall; strange to say, Melanitis did not show the agitation displayed by the rest, but remained outwardly calm.

“I thought so,” answered the King. “Our best traditions led us to think it would be as you say.”

“Good gracious! we are going to have a battle-royal about religion,” muttered Carysfort to the Professor.

“And how did your world act towards Him when He came to them?” asked Mexitli.

Radcliffe stood speechless for a moment, his voice choked; a tear trickled down his face.

“I should not wonder if they killed Him,” interposed Melanitis.

Exclamations of horror and astonishment broke from all sides.

Mexitli shrugged her shoulders with a look of disgust. She signed to Radcliffe to proceed and said imperiously, “Speak the truth—is this horrible thing true?”

“It is true,” answered Radcliffe in a whisper that sent a thrill through every heart in the hall. “I would have died in His stead had I been there, and yet I do not know: one who professed to love Him said as much and then basely deserted Him; so might I.”

“How is it that your world exists after doing this?”

“God is Love,” replied Radcliffe.

There was a moment’s tense silence, then the princess said, “Did anything happen?”

“Yes; the offer of pardon was sent all over the world, for God forgave the world, for the death of the Prince made full amends for all the wrong that men had done. The divine justice was satisfied. He who had been slain came into that world for the very purpose that He might lay down His life for it. He came as man in lowly guise, enduring all the sorrows of our life, and those who slew Him did not know what they were doing. That is why forgiveness was possible for them. Now the Prince has re-entered upon His heavenly and immortal life, but He will come again and take possession of His rightful inheritance, our own world.”

“How long ago did these things happen?” asked the King.

“Nearly twenty centuries by our reckoning.”

“And have your people, the human race, returned to the divine allegiance?”

“Many have done so out of each generation, but many have not.”

“You have done so, I suppose? Your speech, methinks, implies it.”

“I have,” said Radcliffe.

“I am too shocked and horrified to pursue this talk much further,” interrupted Mexitli. “It is evident that our world is guiltless, while as for yours,”—and she finished the sentence with a gesture—“such people can be only plague-spots amongst us. Still, you have told me the truth. Is it to be conceived after this, that even you came here to teach us?”

“God made use of the very men who had helped to slay His Son to go out and in many cases successfully to carry the story of peace all over the world. It may be that He will give even to me a work to do here.”

“Your life has first to be decided upon, and next your liberty,” was the cold reply. “We shall have to deliberate over these amazing things. You can now sit upon yonder seat. Of course you have been severely tried. I would confer with the man who stood next to you. Come forward, fellow, and answer my questions. What brought you here—science or religion?” The words were pronounced with a fine contempt.

“Neither,” said Abercromby; “something as good as either, possibly better—to help my brother who has just spoken to bear his life sorrow.”

“The sins of his people, I suppose.”

“That, doubtless, but also another. He loved a woman on his own world, and made her his wife. They were estranged, and before the quarrel could be made up she was killed by an accident in a river; he was not with her at the time. I persuaded him into coming with us, as the best chance of saving his reason.”

“Did he love her so much?”

“I know not how love prevails in this planet, but if all there exists of it were put together it would about equal the love he had to her.”

“You are not required to pry into such matters. Are you his relation?”

“No, I am his friend. That is a stronger bond in most cases.”

Mexitli bit her lip in evident vexation. The King betrayed a faint smile.

Melanitis sat perfectly rigid, her face deadly white, her hands tightly clasped, her eyes fixed upon Radcliffe, who kept his face bent upon the ground. Mexitli darted a swift glance at her sister, her expression as she did so was inscrutable. At last she said to Abercromby, “Let us leave this matter. Do the people in your own world know of the secret by which you have come to ours?”

“I decline to answer your question,” answered Abercromby.

“This is absolute defiance, and will only bring you all into worse trouble. You must have intelligence to comprehend how greatly this matter will concern us.”

“When you tell us what you are proposing to do to us, we may perhaps give you the information; till then I am silent until my leader bids me to speak.”

“I will make you speak,” said Mexitli.

“Who are barbarians now?” retorted Abercromby.

“Let me entreat you to use moderation and courtesy, Frank,” said Radcliffe, putting a warning hand upon his arm. “Lady of Atalanta, I ask and beg of you this grace, that you will give us time to consider what the answer shall be.”

“No one knows of our secret,” interposed Carmichael. “We are wholly at your mercy.”

“Is this true?” asked the princess of Radcliffe.

“Yes,” replied Radcliffe.

“Then it shall be considered in your favour, only I shall remember that one of you at least spoke insolently to my face, in the central seat of authority in our motherland.”

“My decided vote is given for their lives,” said Melanitis.

“If you wanted to spare them you could have scarcely spoken a more ill-advised thing,” her sister answered. “By this act of public utterance you force me to speak myself, and I decide for the death of all of them and the immediate destruction of their machine, with this one exception, that, according to the clemency of our laws, I would allow Radcliffe a year’s respite under certain proper restrictions. But as our voices are thus divided, it is for the King, my father, to speak.”

“People of Atalanta,” said Malchon, “we have heard to-day such things as would tax the wisdom of the wisest amongst us to decide, whether those who have stood on trial before us ought or ought not to die. Only on one point is the way made plain. The man called Radcliffe can be respited for a year, that we may confer with him about many things and test and prove him. As to the rest, I dislike the thought of putting them to death, if it can be avoided with safety. I propose that they be kept in durance for a short number of days, and be fully told the charges of ill-doing which have been brought against them. They can carefully ponder their reply to these charges, and make it publicly in our presence. Also they must give us a brief account of all their movements since they reached our world. I bid them good speed till the day of final examination comes, and if they behave in a suitable manner, I hold out a reasonable prospect for their safety.”

With these words the assembly rose up, and the men from earth were led back to their courtyard prison.

CHAPTER XIV
THE SECOND ORDEAL

“We shall have a few things to talk over,” was Abercromby’s first ejaculation when they found themselves alone. “I hope to goodness, Professor, you will give us A1 marks for our respective contributions to the drama.”

“I think you all did admirably, both those who spoke and those who held their tongues,” answered the Professor.

“They were a queer trio,” observed the engineer, with a chuckle. “I don’t suppose old King Malchon is allowed by his two daughters very much more power than the House of Commons allows to the kings of England—he reigns but he does not govern.”

“I was once told of a parish up in the north, sir,” put in Tom, “where the parson, his wife, and his daughters were in charge, and the folks said as how they were under the thumb of the Rector, the Director, and the Misdirector!”

“Not bad that, Tom,” said Carysfort; “but, seriously, I can’t make out the elder princess. The younger is quite understandable though not agreeable. She would cut our heads off, if she could, though I have a notion she would like to cut off her sister’s also. Take my word for it, this country is run in for civil war when poor old Malchon dies. Two queens at a time means business in this case.”

“Aye! I believe it,” said the Professor; “but there is something else I should much like to fathom. Why did Melanitis seem struck in a heap, as they say, directly she caught sight of us?”

“Easy of explanation, my dear Professor: she fell in love either with me or with Clarence at first sight. At first I thought I was in it, but I incline to think it was Clarence.”

Radcliffe had gone to his room and was fast asleep, so the others could talk apart from him.

“I wish he could get a wife, sir,” said Tom; “that would make him happy again better than anything.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” replied Abercromby hopefully.

“A word before you begin,” dryly remarked the Professor. “We must be extremely careful what we are about. I do not want to be pessimistic, but I foresee nothing but trouble ahead. That the elder princess is in love with one of us, presumably Radcliffe, I do not deny: it is the only explanation of her conduct. But to us it spells disaster either way. He must obviously do one of two things—accept or reject. If he responds to her advances, the whole of Atalanta will be up in arms, saying that we outer barbarians have dared to aspire to the King’s daughter.”

“We need hardly consider that,” observed the engineer. “Radcliffe will remain true to the memories of the past.”

“Well, then, if he does, he will repel her, and this, I myself think, to be the more probable. Then he will make Melanitis his implacable enemy.”

“But he must do one or the other,” said Abercromby. “For his own sake I hope he will open his campaign quickly.”

“We shall all lose our heads if he does, and the expedition will be wrecked,” answered Carmichael somewhat angrily. “I do beseech you, Abercromby, use your best influence with him for his own sake and ours. We are in a desperate position as it is; do not make it worse by importing women into it.”

“It is not even as though we had Melanitis only,” protested the engineer, “we have her implacable sister also to deal with. Just imagine what a rage she will be in if she should once suspect. Radcliffe might, with equal safety, make love to her. Every hatred and prejudice that can riot in a human heart would be set on fire.”

“I have a pet theory that she would rather like it—I mean if Radcliffe made love to Melanitis. Suppose his doing so led to her being set aside, then Mexitli would be queen herself.”

“Very ingenious, my dear fellow, but the ladies do not usually walk along the lines we intellectually trace out for them. You may be right, but it is far too desperate a game to play. Remember we have death still in front of us, and that even if we are spared, it may be only conditionally.”

The conversation then dropped, Abercromby having promised that he would not endanger them by any imprudence.

The next day they were furnished with a list of the charges made against them. The chief of these were that they had come to Venus at all, on a private enterprise not authorised by their own people, which left them free to do any damage or injury to the realm. Another was that they had drawn their weapons upon Mayana and her husband, when she had given proof that she did not mean to kill them, by only destroying a tree. Another, that they had dared to alight upon the terrace of the royal palace, and a last charge was a general accusation of insolence and defiance to the Royal House and its representatives.

Radcliffe was told he need not reply to the charge of drawing weapons, nor to that of disrespectful speech, as on those charges he was acquitted.

Naturally the prisoners talked the whole matter carefully over and arranged their several lines of defence. Carysfort, who could speak the language better than Carmichael, would be the spokesman, and, though he was a plain, blunt man, his good sense and shrewdness would be likely to be of service to them. Abercromby was implored not to speak, and, after some trouble, he consented. Tom could not say a word in Atalantan, but he promised to speak in English if a sentence was passed.

Radcliffe kept his thoughts to himself, and would not tell the others what he meant to do.

They were not called upon to undergo any period of prolonged suspense, for the summons came on the fourth morning after their return to prison, to stand once again in the Hall of Perfect Justice. Every available inch of standing-ground was occupied, and it took a considerable time before the accused could be led to their places immediately in front of the triple throne. So far as appearance went, the assembly was somewhat less hostile in demeanour than on the first occasion when they had confronted it. The preliminaries took up but little time.

Another official of the palace read the several terms of the indictment, and then Malchon the King rose from his seat and said, “Men of Karamandra, ye have heard the charges brought against you, all of which are more or less serious and deadly. But we hope that time and reflection have enabled you to frame such answers as shall satisfy us that we do no wrong to our people and our authority if we permit you to live.”

Carysfort then stood up. He gave a plain and straightforward account of how the discovery had been made, and also the principles upon which it was based. He told them that they had come as private individuals; first, because the people of his own world were utterly sceptical of the possibility of such an attempt, and, had they disclosed it before starting, they would have either been ridiculed or else prevented, for one nation was jealous of any advantage gained over another; next, it was for the good of Atalanta that the people of his world should not make it the object of their ambition and rapacity. After briefly recapitulating their researches in the northern parts of Venus, he then went on to explain that they had drawn their weapons in a moment of overwhelming panic, just as the Atalantans would have done had they been in like circumstances. As to alighting on the palace terrace, they had followed the course taken by the two Atalantans who had visited them in the airship; that these had even pointed in the direction of the city as though inviting them; and they had chosen the terrace because it was the highest spot, the most accessible for their machine, and they had supposed that it would be the more easy and convenient to address a special deputation of persons, and to appeal to them by signs and even to invite them to enter and inspect their machine. As to their conduct, they must be allowed to plead total ignorance of the modes of thought of the Atalantan people; they felt it neither compatible with their honour nor even their safety to assume an abject and crestfallen attitude; they were brave men, as was proved by the myriad dangers they had so boldly endured in crossing twenty-four million miles of space; they asked only that they might meet brothers at the end of their long journey, and not judges and executioners.

Malchon showed evident pleasure at this reply of the engineer, and was about to speak when Radcliffe stood up and made earnest request to say a few words. Leave being granted, he said, “I wish in the name of truth and justice to take upon myself the full load of responsibility for what seems to have been a serious act of wrong on our part. It was I who gave counsel to my friends to steer direct for the city and for the palace, due, as I now perceive, to an erroneous interpretation of the signs which the two notables of Atalanta made to us. They were referring, of course, to their own movements, and not to ours. Forgive me if you will, but, if not, on my head let the penalty rest.”

Melanitis looked up quickly and met the glance of Radcliffe with an expression of such yearning intensity that he turned away almost with a shudder. Then she said to the King, “Spare them, my lord; no one in their world knows their secret, no one can therefore come hither to injure us.”

“I will never consent to spare them altogether,” said Mexitli, “unless they are willing to teach their secret to us, and even then they must lie under the sentence of death for at least a year, so that if they commit offences against our laws it may be at once carried out. As to Radcliffe, I pardon him. This is the utmost limit of concession to which I will go.”

“So shall it be,” replied Malchon. “Your lives are justly forfeited to our laws, and we therefore pass conditional sentence upon you, with the exception of him to whom my daughter, at her cousin’s most earnest entreaty, has given the full grace of clemency. But this may be earned by the rest, if at the end of a year they show themselves worthy. They need not be kept in prison beyond a day or two, provided they are willing to promise in writing an assent to certain rules and restrictions which shall be appointed. Radcliffe may go where he likes, but he will not probably wish to be separated from his companions. As to their machine, it will be kept by us as the property of our Royal House. It shall not be injured nor destroyed. The goods and instruments which it contains shall be returned to its late owner. Whether the machine be again entrusted to them will depend upon their own conduct or upon circumstances. I may send them back again to their own world under penalty of death to them or to any other persons who shall follow in their enterprise, or I may require them to spend their lives here. I shall adopt the course which seems most desirable as time and their own behaviour may dictate.”

Just as the King was about to dismiss the audience Frank said to the engineer—

“I wish old King Cole had been a little more definite.”

Melanitis gave him a warning glance, but unluckily he went on—

“The Johnnie talks like a diplomatist who has left his mind behind him in the cloak-room.”

“Be quiet, can’t you!” grumbled Carysfort. “You will give the whole show away in a minute.”

These idioms were unknown to Mexitli, but the sound of Frank’s voice was enough of itself.

“You will remain in a prison alone for two months,” she said. “This will give you time to repent of the insult you offered to me four days ago.”

Radcliffe made a movement to throw himself at the princess’s feet, but Melanitis, not quite guessing his intent, grasped him by the arm and drew him back.

“I was but about to sue for the pardon of my friend,” he said. Mexitli turned quickly round and said with a smile—

“You had better not, it may only make matters worse. I might call you to account for seeking to alter a royal decision, but I give you grace this once for your ignorance of our customs. You had best rejoin your people; they are being led from the hall.”

There was nothing further to be done, and he obeyed.

Poor Abercromby had to bid his comrades farewell at the palace entrance. He looked very downcast and dispirited, for his sentence had come upon him as a bolt from the blue. They were equally vexed and distressed on his account. Tom asked his master if he might not use his fists this once just to keep his hand in, but Carmichael happily succeeded in pacifying him.

“The best part of the news is that we have now a sporting chance of getting out of this hole,” remarked Carysfort when they had bidden poor Frank good-bye.

“You mean ultimate permission to return to the earth?” asked the Professor.

“I shall not return,” said Radcliffe.

“Beware of Melanitis,” remarked Carmichael dryly.

“I do not fear her just because I have no love to give her, my love is dead and buried; if it is anywhere it is in the little country churchyard near Chipping Norton, where my honoured father-in-law lies buried by the side of his only child who was my wife.”

“We are in Venus,” remarked the Professor. “Don’t think me unfeeling, but it is a far cry to Chipping Norton.”

“Yes, it is a far cry to Chipping Norton,” murmured Radcliffe. “I sometimes feel I could get hold of any Atalantan woman and ask her if she understood. I could even tell Mexitli all about it.”

“Better tell Melanitis and cut a rather intricate knot,” answered Carmichael in a dry tone.

“I think I shall. It will end a ghastly farce, and if she sends me to the stake itself, well, so much the better.”

The next day the ordinances, with which they were to be bound, were served to them. They were few in number and simple enough, as far as words could go, but it had yet to be seen how their practical working would tend to render life pleasant or hard. No difference was made between them, except that Abercromby had to await his release from prison. They were to remain in the city under the eyes of the court, to live in the house which would be provided for them, to wear their own terrestrial dress, so as to be distinguished from the people, not to go away from the city further than a prescribed distance, except by permission, to place themselves at the royal service to render any help that might be required, and, except Radcliffe, to come up for final sentence at the expiry of a year.

These terms were of course very vague and indefinite. They naturally presented an earnest petition, that, in consideration of all that they had risked and suffered, they might be allowed to travel to the southern pole of the planet, and this they were at once informed would be readily granted after a few weeks’ interval, when the season of heavy rains was past. They were further told that they might freely move in and out among the people, and both give and receive information to and from all classes.

CHAPTER XV
A TALE AT A SUPPER PARTY

Two days after they had given their assent to the terms laid upon them they were removed from the place of durance and conducted by Cleito and Arniphon, the two officers of the King’s guard, to a house in the lower part of the city standing in a shaded plantation of trees a few hundred yards off the Avenue of Ascent, as it was called, which led from the lake shore to the palace. The house was of simple construction, with a verandah and balconies adorned with climbing plants to screen from the heat of the sun; it was two-storied, as were most of the houses in Atalanta, the guest-rooms below, the sleeping-rooms above. They had, of course, Tom to wait upon them, but as he knew no more of Atalantan ways of life than they did themselves, his services were not of much use. Every one in the land—every man at least—had to provide for himself and make his house self-supporting, unless he belonged to the aristocracy, among whom the relation of master and servant still survived in a modified sort of way. Consequently the Professor, though a temporary and unwilling citizen of a great city, could not get a single person to help him, unless it were some one who had fallen into disgrace.

The Atalantans, it is true, helped one another in all cases of illness or difficulty or as an expression of private friendship; but the terrestrials, though objects of unbounded curiosity, were treated as quite beyond the pale, especially by the women, who would no more have thought of coming to their house than to a cave of wild beasts.

Consequently, they were for a time almost in danger of being starved. They were allowed, it is true, to have their earthly supplies from the machine, but this could only be temporary at best, and they were far from wishful to strip the Asteroid bare, for they did not know what future use they might have for them. The King now and again sent them gifts from the palace, but these were not so often edible as their needs required. Tom once tried to sell some of the King’s gifts for food, but fortunately for his life he could not make himself understood, the Atalantan to whom he offered them declining with profuse politeness.

“I pointed to my mouth half a dozen times,” protested Tom. “Even a bloomin’ Frenchman, if I had been in Paris, would have known I wanted a mutton chop, but that donkey only made me a bow.”

“We shall have to eat grass yet, old fellow,” said Carysfort, “as though we were donkeys ourselves.”

It may well be imagined that the position of their comrade Abercromby gave them the most acute uneasiness. Twice a day they were permitted to hear from him, and he used to write a sentence in English. As he was not allowed to make any allusion to his own position, he tried to keep up his spirits and theirs by sending them burlesque mottoes and maxims, which at least proved that he was very much alive. They were such as these:—

“Henry the Eighth and King Malchon should have changed planets for the good of their wives.”

“Is an eclipse of the sun ever produced in these skies by an airship with a happy man sitting alone in the middle of it?”

“Gladstone would have altered the Home Rule Bill had he been here,” etc. etc.

Radcliffe, however, felt certain that poor Abercromby was far less jocose than he represented himself. He would have been very much more alarmed if he had known that every word he had written was sent in copy to the palace, even the English writing being imitated. Cleito gave him a warning intimation coupled with the strange remark that the Princess Melanitis nearly shook with laughing when she saw the paper. Naturally puzzled, he told Carmichael about it.

“I should think,” said the Professor, who had very obvious reasons for what he said, “that this is only another proof that she is quite as unfeeling as her sister. Perhaps she guesses the import of his remarks, and chuckles over his useless complaints and sarcasms. You remember that she did not give you the least help when you made your brave but vain appeal.”

“I suppose it is so,” replied he in a wearied tone. “I shall not trouble to find out why she laughed.”

A day or two after this it chanced that Radcliffe was walking by himself along the promenade by the lake, which reminded him strangely of some of his holiday haunts in old England. Groups of people were seated under the trees talking in languid tones, or else listening to some female singers, who, with quaint-looking instruments and rich, mellow voices, were singing the praises of the motherland. This was a very trite subject and pretty well worn, but the people seemed always to awake to interest at it. As he drew near he heard—

“Sing me the praise of the Land of Light,

Where the Lord of the sky looks down

On the hill and the meadow resplendently bright

Reflecting his glory and crown.

Creation holds not a world so fair

With its sky-piercing hills and its far-spreading air.

“Its people are happy, their faces serene,

Untroubled their lives pass along.

The work of their hands gives them all things I ween,

The fruit of their toil is a song.

Yet fain would we know, when its beauties we miss,

Shall the spirit-clear eyes look on fairer than this?

“Enough, for such questions unanswered must be,

Let not each generation complain;
If life must end in uncertainty,
Let us sing in the absence of pain.

Since the half of our world is so wondrously fair

Why should we grieve if the other be drear?”

Radcliffe felt strongly impelled to stand up and address them, but his courage failed him just at the critical moment. There was something in those faces so absolutely self-satisfied, so serenely proud, that it seemed harder to appeal to them than to the fiercest and most hostile mob.

“I see you are much interested, stranger, in one of our popular melodies,” said an Atalantan, who had been watching him closely.

“I wish I could be one of you, even the lowliest, that I might fully know your ways of thought. How can I possibly be of any use to you until I do?”

The stranger smiled. “Well, as a means to that end, instead of listening to poetry that I at least have heard many hundreds of times, you shall come home to our mansion, which is close by, and sup with us. We may be able to regale you with better music and song, and you may tell us something of your own planet. My wife is Mayana, the cousin of the princesses, and we owe you no small debt of gratitude.”

In a half-dazed condition Radcliffe went in through the noble portico and into the mansion; there he was led up to Mayana and her younger sister Minya, who unbent themselves, and gave him a warm greeting. Supper of fruits and iced drinks was laid upon a side table, and the Atalantan gentleman served it to the others, not permitting Radcliffe to serve, as he was a guest.

Conversation flowed freely.

He told them of the journey across space and of their feelings when they drew near to the city. Again he was profusely thanked for having averted death and misery, but his efforts to exculpate the others were not as successful as he had hoped.

The conversation turned upon the court, and Radcliffe sang the praises of the King in no sparing terms. Cleophon, Mayana’s husband, smiled and asked why he did not say a word in honour of the two princesses.

“Because I am afraid,” he answered. He thought they would laugh at him, but they did not.

“There is no serious reason for feeling this,” said Mayana; “you are high in favour, and may rise higher yet. But naturally we Atalantans prefer to be ruled by one of our own sex, though we all love and sympathise with the poor dear old King.”

“Why does he look somewhat sad?” Radcliffe ventured to ask.

“Cleophon, tell the story; our attendants have been requisitioned at the palace, so we are quite by ourselves,” said Mayana.

“It is a strange tale,” he began. “Years ago the Princess Melanitis was the joy and brightness of her father’s heart; she was very high-spirited, an Atalantan of the Atalantans, and looked upon as the most able ruler who would ever sit upon our throne. She was stricken down by solar fever, and reduced to the very point of death. The King, distracted with grief, went to the Temple of the Sun on the lake-island yonder; he prayed all night to the God of Heaven, and, in his despair, he used words quite contrary to all justice and moderation. ‘Let her recover,’ he said, ‘though she be a shame to me and to my house; let her recover, though she live to break my heart and the hearts of all my people.’ The high priest told him that his prayer would be answered, but he would live to rue the day that it was. When he returned to the palace the princess had recovered. She awoke from the very stupor of death. She stretched out her arms to him, but when she saw him she uttered a cry of horror that will not be forgotten by those that heard it. Her senses returned, and yet they did not return. She could not speak her own tongue; she did not know the meaning of anything that she saw; she did not know her way about the city or even the palace. She was infinitely more helpless than you were when you were made prisoner by the crowd.”

“How dreadful!” said Radcliffe.

“Malchon recognised his rashness and bowed bravely to it. He summoned the wisest men of the land, for wisdom seems one of the few things that we men can claim as our own.”

“Some wisdom,” corrected Mayana.

“Well, I have a king’s word for it. But this is no jesting matter. She had to be taught everything from the very beginning. Gradually her mind came back, but her memory of the past never came back; she knew nothing of her former life except as she was told. But there is a stranger thing still. When she was again made fit to assume the duties of her princely station, she seemed to have lost all interest in them; she was just as clever as before, but her cleverness seemed so very different. She took up with science, especially astronomy. She was always paying visits to Aptaura, and would spend hours in the study of the heavens, of your planet, and of the outer planets. Even her opinions on religion were different; nothing would induce her to pay her devotions in the Temple of the Sun. She took a great interest in the old bygone faith of Atalanta, when men prayed to the God of Heaven directly, and she gathered all the knowledge attainable as to the visit of the mysterious Divine Prince who, as you had the courage to tell us, was cruelly put to death by the inhuman savages in your own world, when He had come to die for them. Never within living memory was any audience so stirred as when you gave your straight answer to those awful questions put to you by her sister. My advice to you is to cultivate the friendship of Melanitis, and to answer all her enquiries about Karamandra and its people. You might even do something to chase the clouds from her brow.”

“There have been cases in my own world of people who have been sun-stricken turning totally different afterwards,” said Radcliffe, who sat wrapped in thought; “an honest man has been known to steal and to commit the worst of crimes.”

“I do not wonder,” put in Minya, “that she never worships in the Temple; her father has never once entered it again.”

“What are her relations with her sister? I would not ask so grave a question, but for fear lest I may do the princess an injury by increasing her interest in things foreign to this planet.”

“Pray have no fear on that ground,” replied Mayana. “So utterly has Melanitis ceased even to care to rule that Mexitli has it all her own way. Nothing but the will of the King induces Melanitis to be even considered Queen-Elect, and I have a secret opinion, based on some words Mexitli dropped to me, that, directly the King dies, there will be no conflict between them, for Melanitis will resign her claims. They were bitter enemies once, but they are friendly enough now, though only those are aware of it who are behind the scenes. But in my inmost heart I a little despise my elder cousin.”

“A former King of Atalanta gave up the crown,” murmured Cleophon.

“Yes, but he was a man,” said Mayana; “you will not find a queen doing so.”

“I take my corrections as I take my exercise—philosophically,” answered Cleophon.

“You are the best of your sex,” replied Mayana; “I have no fault to find with you.”

Radcliffe rose, and bidding his host and hostess farewell, took his departure after Minya had sung in her beautiful voice two or three patriotic songs, “How Keraunion died for his friend,” “Make the best of half a world,” “One only nation.”

“The Prince died in Karamandra for His enemies,” remarked Mayana thoughtfully; “I suppose that was better. But we never treated Him like that.”

“Lady,” said Radcliffe, “are there not slights that are injuries more painful than death?”

“Perhaps there are. You doubtless accuse us in the days of old for letting Him depart without a welcome, because our pride could not understand His humility. Well, if we were wrong, we have been punished, for we have had no one to teach us ever since.”

“I labour under the triple disadvantage of being a Karamandran, a man, and, at every step I take, under the shadow of death, but I will tell you all I know, and all He taught in my own world.”

Mayana coloured slightly, but the intense earnestness of the speaker disarmed her. “You can if you like,” she said; “I will see you again and you shall talk to us. But Melanitis is the one most certain to take up with these new ideas.”

“You must be very careful what you do,” observed Cleophon. “You will have bitter prejudices to overcome. We are not a teachable people, we think we know all things, and where we admit our ignorance, we withhold our interest.”

“At least this is a house full of friends and you are welcome,” said Mayana, and with these words in his ears Clarence Radcliffe turned away to enter the palace avenue, and then to the little dwelling in the light blue plantation which was supposed to be their home. For a moment his sense of utter loneliness was almost overwhelming. He wished himself anywhere, even facing again the perils of space.

Home! Where was it? All places and even all planets seemed alike. The shadow of an airship passed overhead and uttered its peculiar wailing cry. This gave him the explanation of their startling surprise, and also something to think about.

CHAPTER XVI
MALCHON’S GOSPEL

The Professor and the engineer had not had a very pleasant time. With their companion in prison and no longer able to enliven them with his rattling talk, with all their future hopes clouded, separated from their machine, and compelled to work at the most common details of existence, it was no wonder that they grew somewhat disheartened and sad. When they went out they found themselves shunned if not actively disliked, and though they went in fear of no bodily peril, it really seemed as if the whole population had decided to let them severely alone and to do nothing to help them.

Tom was always in a condition of latent hostility, and it was well that he could not speak the native language, considering the number of times he swore in Anglo-Saxon. The very boys and girls in the streets and promenades would sometimes hurl opprobrious epithets at each member of the party; once a child struck Radcliffe as he was passing by; but this was going too far, and the offending youngster would have been severely punished if Radcliffe had not gone to the palace himself and interceded. This act was much talked about in the city, but it did not have the effect that might have been hoped, although he ended the hostility of one family.

One day, being seriously uneasy at this state of things, he went to crave an audience of the Princess Mexitli herself. She received him urbanely enough, but his pleading for the others was the reverse of successful.

“You all had no right to come here,” she said, “and you must put up with what you receive. All I can promise is that when the man Abercromby is set free, which I will not allow till his time of punishment has expired, then you shall all travel in your airship to see the wonders of the southern pole. We shall probably go with you; it will suit the time when we make our annual progress thither. This will be a pleasure to you all, and to that you may look forward. And now I have a command to lay upon you. Will you take us over and explain to us the different parts of the Asteroid?”

“Whenever your Highness shall direct.”

“Then come with me now. This is the hour when we usually take our interval of sleep. But it will be all the better, as fewer eyes will be upon us.”

In a little time the two princesses, each accompanied by an attendant, repaired to that part of the terrace-square on which the Asteroid was fixed. Radcliffe conducted them all over it, explaining the meaning of the different objects, and gave a full account of the mechanism and of the newly discovered force by which it had been propelled in space. He had never felt more free since he had alighted upon the planet; he could forget now that those whom he was addressing could send him by a word to a doom of terror, he felt rather like a lecturer demonstrating to a small class of pupils.

The princesses seemed highly delighted with what they had seen, and declared that they would certainly travel in it. Among the last objects which they noticed was a book lying open upon one of the cabin tables. It was a New Testament. Melanitis took it up, turned over a few pages, and said to Radcliffe, “Why should you not turn this book into Atalantan? We have no print like this, but we have means of reproducing copies of our exquisite public handwriting. I could furnish you with helpers.”

Radcliffe started violently. “Do you know what that book is?” he said.

“How should we, when we speak only our own language?” said Mexitli, with some tartness. “But let me tell you, I will allow no book from another planet to be circulated among the people, unless it be, in my opinion, useful, and not unsettling to their minds.”

“It is the life and teaching of the Saviour Prince, and an account of how those who were faithful to Him carried on His work after His ascension,” replied Radcliffe.

“Indeed!” said the princess, much astonished. “Well, you may translate it for us if you like. My father the King takes a great interest in all such deep subjects. But only a small part can be suitable for our world, I should say.”

“Leave it to me, I will arrange everything for you,” said Melanitis quickly.

“I insist upon having my voice in the matter,” Mexitli struck in. “This is too serious for even my sister to take wholly upon herself. However, religion is about the only thing I should be at all willing to accept from outside, because we have practically none of it ourselves. Sun-worship is ridiculous, but it is perhaps good enough for uncultured minds.”

“Do the people treat the sun as a divinity, or as only the noblest representation of God in the visible creation?”

“You must ask the philosophers about that. It is no duty of us princesses to go about and discover how much or how little the people believe. But come, the heat is too great here for such serious talk; we will return. Set about your book, and work at it till the rain-mist season is over, and then bring it to us.”

The very next day two of the King’s scribes came to their house, much to the astonishment of both Carmichael and Carysfort. When Tom was informed, he said he could not see why they should pull the old Book about; what was good enough for Moses was good enough for him. The Professor had to break it to him that Moses had not been connected with either the English or Atalantan versions.

Radcliffe worked hour after hour dictating and receiving hints in return, until the Gospel of St. Luke and the Acts of the Apostles had been rendered into very decent Atalantan speech, though, of course, there was a great lack of elegance and finish.

While thus engaged the rain-mist season came on in its full intensity. The land was deluged with dew and moisture, fog and rime. The weather was distinctly chilly. Many of the people took occasion to pass the time in rest and sleep, and there was a succession of something like terrestrial mornings and evenings, according as the mist increased or diminished.

Towards the end of the period the King sent for Radcliffe and had a long conversation with him. He praised his diligence, and said that he would do all in his power to further his wishes. But he advised him as a friend not to be too hasty in setting himself up as a teacher of the people. It would be better to induce the Atalantans to teach themselves. “You desire to incline my people to become disciples of Jesus Christ, as you terrestrials appear to call Him. Of course, this is but natural, for every disciple, worthy of the name, seeks to enlist other disciples for the teacher whom he admires. My poor Melanitis seems much disposed to enter into your plans, and you cannot do better than work through her. My other daughter will have probably greater influence than she, when I am gone to the Mansions of the Blest, and you have done well to conciliate her in every way that your conscience allows. I have not much direct power; it may be that Mexitli is impatient for my too prolonged life to end. I blame her not; but I would give much to be sure that my darling Melanitis loves me as she did in the olden days. But a truce to this, though sometimes I feel I can talk more freely to you than to my own people. We are swathed in forms and ceremonies, in pride and social prejudice, and I long to be able to converse freely, even with a stranger.”

“Would your Majesty tell me the story I have desired so much to know: how, and under what circumstances, He, who is the Master whom I serve, came to Atalanta?”

The King paused a moment. Then, inviting Radcliffe to be seated, he said, “This is the pith of a sad and shameful story, the most disgraceful in the whole history of my race. My people lived in much the same place as now, though on the northern shores of the lake of Meloria. Atalanta was not built as a city. We were but few in number then, about twenty thousand maybe. A stranger of noble and gracious aspect came over the Keraunian Hills. We had suffered much from sickness and calamity, flood and fire. He came and nursed our sick back to life; He taught us many useful things; He benefited us in every possible way; He did menial services for us; but He told us that He was the Son of the Mighty God, and that, if we put our trust in Him, He would make us noble and happy and wise while we lived, and then take us to His own Home beyond the stars where we should be His angels and serve Him for ever. But the people of Atalanta would not accept Him; they believed that He came from some other planet, but not that He was the Prince of Heaven. He gave them many proofs of His divine greatness, but very few accepted Him or became His disciples. This went on for some time, and at last the men of Atalanta got exasperated; they accused Him of saying that they were sinners against God, whereas they committed no crimes but were just and upright. At last they arrested Him, and the Council of Elders, for we had no kings and queens then, sentenced Him to work for Atalanta by building a road over the Keraunian Hills. He toiled at this work for a whole year, some of those who loved Him working with Him.

“At last this cursed road was built, and when it was finished they said, ‘We will not hurt You nor ill-treat You; we bid You depart and leave us in peace.’ Then He said, ‘I am going to Karamandra to suffer there for the sins of its people and to proclaim to them the true way of salvation. But as for you, ye shall increase and wax mighty, and have great riches and prosperity, and dwell for many centuries unmolested and unvisited. Ye shall mourn during those days that ye have no sure knowledge of eternal things, but no knowledge shall be given you till the hour comes that, as a people, ye shall humble yourselves. And in the end of the ages I will come again, first to the guiltier world and then to this which is less guilty, and from both take to Myself an elect assembly of those who are My true disciples. Meantime love and serve one another, as I have served you, and the work which I go to do upon Karamandra shall avail for this world also. Believe in Me and My words, and wait, be the time never so long, for the Return of the Light which you now despise.’

“Then He went away, and was seen no more. This is the sum of what I have to tell you, my friend; seek to make the best use of it that you can, and go forward wisely and prudently.”

Radcliffe encountered Melanitis as he left the King’s private cabinet. She smiled upon him, but her eyes showed that she had been weeping intensely. He more than suspected that she must have known of what had passed, but he did not question her.

That same evening Radcliffe was wending his way to the house as well as he could; the mist had lifted somewhat, but showed evident signs of swooping down again. He had just turned into the Grand Avenue when a voice was heard from behind a tree, “Will you oblige, sir, by telling me the way to Professor Carmichael’s house?”

Radcliffe stopped aghast! Here was some one in Venus accosting him in English! For a moment he stood petrified, then a hand was laid on his shoulder. It was Frank Abercromby!

The latest joke had pretty well used him up. He was more like a scarecrow than a man.

“What have they been doing to you?” said Radcliffe, his growing admiration of things Atalantan sinking down to zero.

“Teaching me to love princesses. But come, old man, will there be a good meat tea ready for us when we get back?”

“The Professor and the engineer and Tom scarcely know how to live. We have had to grow our own vegetables and fruits, and Tom, the other day, found he had planted some the wrong end uppermost.”

“Everything seems upside down in this beastly planet. Whatever did we come here for? Why didn’t we pull up half-way and start back? How are the boss and the engineer going to manage?”

“We shall be allowed to travel in the Asteroid to the southern pole when the weather changes.”

“That’s something. I shall vote for going further.”

“But we shall not be allowed to go alone.”

“Not alone!” shrieked Frank.

“No; the princesses are going with us.”

“The deuce they are! And did you invite them?”

“Certainly not: they invited themselves.”

Abercromby swore steadily. “Well, we can drop one at either pole and then make off for earth. I am sick of the whole business. So are the others too, I fancy.”

They walked on silent. Then Abercromby said, “How are you getting on about Melanitis?”

“I love her as a sister.”

“Does she love you as a brother?”

“Look here, Frank, all frivolity must end. I am going to give the New Testament to Atalanta; the Royal House have practically settled it.”

“Take care they don’t practically settle you.”

“I believe this whole nation is on the eve of a change.”

“Great Scott!” was all that Abercromby could say.

CHAPTER XVII
THE PERILS OF CROSS CURRENTS

Fortunately for himself, Abercromby had a very cheerful temperament, and the presence and society of his friends soon dissipated his gloom. He was reticent as to his experiences in the prison, but it did not seem that he had been treated with any positive cruelty, but rather with neglect.

The warders seldom showed themselves, and he was left to his own melancholy reflections, his chief suffering consisting in the scantiness of the food given to him.

The party sat down to their rather sorry meal and then retired to rest, which he especially needed.

The next day, as it seemed to offer a prospect of fine weather, Radcliffe went with Abercromby for a long walk. They penetrated to the west end of the city, ascending a hill, from whence they enjoyed a fine view over the Lake and its island, with the dome-shaped Temple glittering in the sun. Then they plunged into a forest glade, where they met but very few people, most of whom saluted them with at least a semblance of courtesy; and then they rested in a kind of secluded dell, where they found themselves altogether alone. They had not, however, been there many minutes before they noticed an ominous fading of the light, and soon the rain mist was upon them. Fortunately a few hundreds of yards away stood a low-roofed house in a clearing surrounded by a garden in no very good state of order. They took refuge in an out-building, but they had to retreat into the innermost recess before they could find a rain-proof spot. The wall formed only a thin partition, and they could hear the noise of a rather animated conversation going on within. Not wishing to be surprised as eavesdroppers, they knocked loudly at the wall, and the next moment there was a sudden hush, a sound of footsteps, a door suddenly opened, and two men appeared.

The taller of the two uttered a sharp cry, but instantly held out his heavy hand to welcome them. “Come in, my lords,” he said; “you are just as welcome as if you belonged to this down-trodden world of ours, and may help to lift us up if you are willing.”

He led them into a sort of back kitchen where some food was being prepared, though its perfume was scarcely inviting. There were half a dozen to a dozen persons present, all men, for a wonder.

“Brother Parmenton,” said the tall man, “these new-comers need no introduction. They are two of the terrestrials. Praise the Sun God for hiding his august face awhile, or else they had not come here for shelter.”

“Are the men in your planet masters or slaves?” asked the worthy who was addressed as Parmenton.

“Both,” said Abercromby.

“Do they rule their women folk or do their women folk rule them?”

“That depends upon circumstances,” said Abercromby. “I fancy our world is getting rather like yours.”

“Will you help us to make our world what you imply yours was in days past?”

“What mean you by that?”

“Help us—the people—to be men and not slaves.”

“And what are we to do, and are you going to do for the other people?”

“Fencing with words is not good when men are determined.”

“And still less when the ladies are.”

“True; therefore we intend to practise deeds and not words.”

“We have waited centuries before doing so,” cried Mauro Katakalon, a rough-looking Atalantan who at least enjoyed the luxury of two names.

“Look here, Clarence,” said Abercromby; “what the dickens does all this mean? Are we going to run our necks into a social revolution? If so, I beg leave to back out.”

“My masters,” said Radcliffe earnestly, “the beasts of the field will ride over you until you become true disciples of the God of Heaven. He alone can make any one free.”

A shout of derisive laughter greeted his words. “That is the man who has come here to preach a new religion,” said Medon, a third member of the party. “No use in him, he is one of the palace slaves; talk to the other. The tyrant put him in prison for two months. He will listen to reason.”

“We have, as strangers, nothing to do with your politics, whether social or domestic,” said Abercromby hotly, “and having barely saved our lives we do not mean to place them in peril again. If there is to be a war of sexes, or any other war, on this amiable planet, you must fight your own game. We are not going to be mixed up in it.”

“You do not hesitate to turn our religion upside down,” said Parmenton angrily, “and Mexitli is quite content you should, in order to crush by your help the one venerated leader we have left. When she has done that, your turn will come next.”

“I shall obey my conscience and do my duty,” answered Radcliffe firmly. “My Master Christ shall be the true King of Atalanta.”

“Say that again,” shouted Medon, “and you shall pay dearly for it. Go and preach your wretched religion in Atalanta city, and see how you fare at the hands of every honest citizen.”

“Take my advice,” said Mauro Katakalon, “listen to Melanitis; she sympathises with our wrongs and would redress them if she could. She is nearly as much a woman of your world as if she had come from there. She is dead opposed to our whole social system, and would make every Atalantan equal.”

“She is a Christian,” said Parmenton vehemently, “and equally opposed to us in faith. But I would forgive her even that, for she would let us have a taste of freedom. As for you,” he continued, pointing to Abercromby, “you have been covered with indelible disgrace through having been in prison, and you can only escape it by joining us in founding a new social order. In a very short time Atalanta will be free, and Mexitli hung on a gibbet in front of the Temple at whose worship she has mocked.”

“This talk has lasted long enough,” said Radcliffe sternly. “We are no better than other men; we have not, I think, been accorded the hospitality that was due to us; but, for all that, we take Atalanta as we find it, and utterly renounce all unholy and sanguinary deeds. Allow us to pass, if you please; if not, we shall resort to force. Wherever we go we are watched, and if we were detained, you would answer for it.”

“Let them go,” grumbled Medon, “we are better without them. We shall have a nobler leader than they, and a trained force to support him.”

When they found themselves in the open air Abercromby gave himself a shake, like a dog coming out of the water. Radcliffe remarked: “They all seem to harp upon the change which has come over Melanitis, though I suspect it has been greatly exaggerated by credulous report.”

“Possibly,” said Abercromby. “How long is it since her illness and her extraordinary recovery, the unlucky result of Malchon’s rash prayer?”

“Seven years,” said Radcliffe.

“The years of Venus, I suppose. Just oblige a duffer by telling him how long it takes Venus to rotate round the sun?”

“Two hundred and twenty-four days, I believe.”

Abercromby turned his head very sharply; they had just come in view of the Lake and the Temple. Radcliffe did not notice that his companion had gone white to the lips.

When they reached home they found the Professor and the others in rather a flutter of excitement. “We have had a visitor,” said Carysfort.

“Male or female?” asked Abercromby.

“Male, of course; no other would come unless to shoot us.”

“Who was it?” enquired Radcliffe.

“Lydon.”

“And who the dickens is Lydon?” said Abercromby. “Don’t dole us out our information by instalments.”

“The high priest of the Sun,” answered the Professor. “He came with two attendant priests, clad in gorgeous robes and with full ceremony and state. He remained about an hour, talking over all matters of interesting information.”

“Yes, and more than that,” observed Carysfort. “He told us that there would be a great festival of the Sun on the first regular day of the sunny season, and he hoped we would honour it by our presence. He also told us that the archives of the Temple contained documents of priceless importance, written by those who lived near to the time of the event in which Radcliffe is specially interested. He will show them to Radcliffe if he will pay a visit to the island.”

Radcliffe and Abercromby exchanged significant glances.

“Did he express his views as to any social or domestic matters connected with the well-being of the commonwealth?” enquired Abercromby, who seldom used elegant phraseology except when he was joking.

“I do not think he is at all friendly to much that now goes on,” observed the Professor.

“Then may I suggest that we do not accept his hospitality till after the festival is over?” said Abercromby.

“I would not make a foe of him,” observed the engineer.

Radcliffe went out by himself and took his way to Mayana’s house. He failed to see her, but Minya granted him an interview, and before he was aware of it she had put to him a string of questions the full drift of which he did not quite clearly understand. But he answered her as explicitly as he could, and she then said that he ought on no account to visit the Temple, it would be as much as his life was worth to do so; he must not ask any reasons but be led entirely by her advice, which was given in all good faith.

When he got home he found that Abercromby had been doing his best to persuade the others that Lydon was not to be trusted, despite all the treasures which he might have at disposal to show them. Tom was not altogether of his way of thinking; he was apparently anxious to see the old conjurer’s bag of tricks, as he elegantly expressed it. The Professor and the engineer were not moved so much by literary instincts or general curiosity as by a desire not to provoke any more hostilities.

Abercromby said: “You are all of you as credulous as the Cambridge freshman who was disinclined to subscribe to his college boat, but as he took in whatever we told him, we said one day, ‘Tearle, you ought to be ashamed. The Vice-Chancellor was running along the tow-path in flannels this afternoon, bawling out, “Well rowed, Trinity!”’ that fetched him quite, and he gave us a guinea on the strength of it.”

Radcliffe had come in, and his appearance suggested to Tom a new argument. “Don’t you think that as Mr. Radcliffe wants to be a missionary to these ’ere savages the priests had better take him in hand in their college so as to give him points?”

“My dear Tom,” said Abercromby, when he had finished laughing, “Mr. Radcliffe hardly wants to be coached in paganism.”

“Bless you all!” said Tom, “I’m a fool. I thought they were Christians, just for a minute.”

CHAPTER XVIII
THE FESTIVAL OF PANACLA

The first day of the month Panacla, meaning “the forth-shining,” had now commenced, when the rain mist was supposed to have finished its mission in Southern Atalanta.

The Vale of Meloria was bathed in the most exquisite light, mellowed and tempered by the snow-white clouds that trailed along the sky at an immeasurable altitude.

A large crowd of people had gathered by the Lake shore watching the island that lay nearly in front of the great city. At the foot of the Grand Avenue a line of palace guards was posted, the meaning of whose presence was not at first quite clear to the terrestrial party. Cleito smiled significantly when the Professor enquired if the procession would approach the palace. “Wait and see,” was all he said.

At last a flash of light leaped from one of the pinnacles of the island Temple. Some of the people kneeled down as though to pay their devotions. Others did not, but stood scornfully erect.

Soon a cry arose and hands were pointed towards the Lake. A barge gaily painted, propelled by a number of oarsmen, was gliding rapidly towards a landing-stage, a quarter of a mile to the east. Two other barges followed, one having a superb gilded canopy. The occupants of these landed and were received with adoration by a kneeling crowd. Then a procession was formed. The vanguard consisted of a troop of young children in pure white with coral-coloured fillets in their hair, holding in their hands white wands of sharp-pointed metal. These formed a semicircle, grouping themselves into a guard of honour; then came a band of players beating some oval-shaped instruments and raising a weird intonation. Following them was a woman robed as a priestess. She sang with rich, penetrating voice—

“O Lord of Light! O Lord of Light!
Filling the land with glory bright,
Thine enemy retires[1]
Into the darkness whence he came,
Awed by thy majesty and fame,
Cowed by thy burning fires.

“While Atalanta shall endure
Thy worship shall stand fast and sure,
All its proud foes defy;
Though thou mayest veil thy glorious head,
Thou comest forth to smite with dread
Each impious enemy.
Hail, Asti! Potentate and King,
Receive the worship that we bring.”

[1] The rain mist.

As she passed by she was followed by the priests of the Temple, each carrying golden spears. Then came a canopy under which an altar was borne, with a solar disk at each corner and a larger one in the centre. Behind came a litter borne upon the shoulders of four tall and powerful men, and reclining upon it was the high priest Lydon. The procession halted. The litter-bearers laid their burden down. Lydon stepped forth. He placed the altar in position; he kindled the central disk, which revolved with a fiery radiation. Then he turned to the crowd, most of whose members had now kneeled down. His eyes fell upon the Professor and his party, who stood somewhat uncomfortably prominent. He shot them a keen glance. Then he said: “Men of Karamandra, there are those who brand you as barbarians; the priesthood knows no such distinction. Come ye, offer incense to the Sun God, the first of all invited to draw nigh.” So saying he placed the vessel of incense in the hands of Carmichael.

“I must go through this farce, I suppose,” said Carmichael, “though I should be ashamed for my Cambridge friends to see me. It is only a form.”

“Yes, of course,” assented Carysfort.

“You shall not!” exclaimed Clarence Radcliffe, and he struck the vessel out of the Professor’s hand. For an instant there was an awful silence. Every one stood in paralysed astonishment.

“This may be my last moment,” exclaimed Radcliffe. “You may tear me in pieces, but I will offer no incense, except the incense of my heart, to Him who is not the material sun, but the Sun of Righteousness.”

“Silence, blasphemer!” shouted Lydon, hoarse with rage. “What ho! guards and champions of our ancestral faith, take this son of Karamandra, who has insulted us and our god, and remove him to the sacred island. There he shall be taught how to frame his words and acts with discretion.”

Before they could seize Radcliffe, Abercromby and Jackson had felled the two nearest to the ground, and grasping their companion they endeavoured to pull him away. The crowd was in the wildest commotion, some cursing him for his sacrilege, others applauding the act. Some urged on the priests to secure the prisoner, others cried, “Long live the palace and the throne. Down with the traitors!”

In the midst of the turmoil Radcliffe had mounted on a seat, and addressing his voice to those nearest, he said, “People of Atalanta! How long will you worship that which is only a furnace of molten fire, fit emblem of punishment and of woe? What would the sun do for you if the God who placed it there were to cause its light to fail? Would not this side of the world be even as the other? I set before you Him who is greater than all things which He hath made—eternal, immortal, invisible. He can guide you to the Mansions of the Blest, into which all who love Him are safely gathered,”—here Radcliffe’s voice broke a little. “Atalantans! worship God. He has given you all things, even the very powers with which you neglect Him.”

At this moment Mayana herself, heading a detachment of the palace attendants and wearing the red coronet as a symbol of authority, thrust herself forward, followed by Cleophon and Minya. “Begone, Lydon!” she said. “Go back to your island and deem yourself fortunate that you are allowed to dwell there. All your plots are known. This is the last time that you shall ever issue forth with your rebellious rabble to delude and incite the people.”

“I will go,” said Lydon in a voice inarticulate for rage, “but the cup of your iniquities and that of Mexitli is running over. I—or rather the Sun God—shall be avenged.”

“Behold the powerlessness of your god, for his face is about to be hidden!” shouted Radcliffe. And as he spoke the rain mist gathered and veiled the fair landscape. Shrieks of terror and despair, intermingled with laughter and mockery, came from different parts of the crowd. Radcliffe suddenly heard a cry from Abercromby. He started to ascertain the cause. As he did so he felt a violent shock, and all consciousness left him.

“Where am I?” said Radcliffe when he had somewhat regained his senses. He was in a luxuriously furnished room. Melanitis was bending over him, supporting his head upon her arm. “I have been dreaming that I was in Wales, going up the Portmadoc Road to Pont Aberglaslyn Pass with Lilian. But what nonsense am I talking, and in English too!” he added, correcting himself. “Lady, I did not know you were there. Has my speech been wandering? I could have declared I heard some one singing to me an old English song, which we—my wife and I—used to sing together.”

“You will be always true to her, will you not?” said the princess.

“Unto death and beyond it,” said Radcliffe.

“Did you ever stay with her and her father the year before you were married at a town called Tenby?” asked Melanitis.

Radcliffe started up on the coach, his face rigid with amazement. “Yes, the happiest time in all my life, except one,” he added. “But how—how did you know it?”

Melanitis smiled. “I know a good many things,” she said.

“Is second-sight understood in this planet?”

“No; and if it were I should not practise any such arts.”

“Have you ever visited my world in your dreams?”

“Dreams are of little account, except day dreams. But a truce to this. I want you to realise two things. One is that I perfectly sympathise with you in your life sorrow. Another is, that God may provide you a way out of it sooner perhaps than you think.”

Radcliffe was about to answer when the door opened and King Malchon entered. The old man, who looked worn and haggard, took the seat which Melanitis had vacated, and said, “I rejoice that you are recovering, my son. My daughter here has given you all the resources of her medical skill, and has gradually nursed you back to life. A great debt is it that you owe to her. But we all owe a debt to you hardly less great. Your conduct three days ago helped us to frustrate for the present the designs of our enemy.”

“God be thanked for that. But what happened to me?”

“You were struck upon the head by a club hurled by one of the traitors in order to silence you,” said the King. “He would have repeated the blow had not the fire-tube which Mayana held in her hand smitten him. There was a conflict between the loyalists among the people and the rebels, and several lives were lost. No such thing has happened among us for generations. The rebels were compelled to retreat to their island and its temple fortress. Mexitli and Melanitis both urged me to carry it by assault and to put its colony to death, but I shrink from such bloodshed as would result. I have forbidden, however, any similar festival being held again.”

“Has the lady Mayana or any member of her house been injured?”

“None; for the good Cleito arrived with the guards just in time.”

“Where are my companions?”

“Lodged within the palace. I shall not allow them to be outcasts any more.”

The rest of the day was spent by Radcliffe in the society, now of the King, now of Abercromby, now of Melanitis. They all helped to make the hours pass pleasantly. Only when he was alone did he ponder in his mind the extraordinary knowledge which Melanitis so evidently possessed. And when the Professor came in to see him he told him about it and he asked his opinion: “The simplest imaginable, my dear fellow. You have been delirious, and she has overheard you talk.”

“But why is she so solicitous that I shall always be true to the memory of my lost love?”

“I do not pretend to fathom women, but perhaps she has heard rumours that affected herself, and she naturally wishes by your help to give the lie direct to them.”

“But she says that God will, sooner than I think, make a way for me to end my sorrow.”

“I see more than one explanation of her pious desire, my dear Radcliffe, but I won’t pursue the subject.”

“Where is Mexitli?”

“Absent on state business.”

“Is she resentful for what I did?”

“Not in the least. She is hugely delighted. The danger does not lie with her. Be very careful of the other one.”

“Abercromby says the opposite.”

“Then chum with the King. He is safe enough.”

Before they retired to rest, Mayana entered, asking to know how the sick patient was. She offered to sing him one of the sweetest songs of Atalanta. It was entitled “Little Queen of the Night.” She took up a harp-shaped instrument, and seating herself by the side of Melanitis, sang—

“When the birds shall homeward fly
And the sunlight shall descend
Where Aptaura rears on high
His steep rampart to defend.
Is there any light beyond
As I face the frost-bound field,
Do the stars with eyes so fond
Their sweet magic influence wield?

“Aye! the brightest and the best
Of the starry host above,
From the east unto the west,
Looketh down with glance of love.
’Tis the little Queen of Night,
That surveys the cold drear waste,
Yet her self-forgetful light
Whispers: ‘Hasten, traveller, haste.

“‘O be not further led
By fond foolish thoughts of me,
For I shine upon the dead
In my helpless sympathy.
Turn your face towards a light
That is nobler far than mine,
And the little Queen of Night
Will not grieve nor yet repine.’”

“Beautiful, beautiful!” said Radcliffe. “And that little Queen of Night is my world that only shines on the cold dead hemisphere of Venus.”

CHAPTER XIX
AN AERIAL VOYAGE WITH DIVERS EXPERIENCES

A week later they made their start for the southern pole. Mexitli was to lead the expedition as far as the island of Melandria; her return would depend upon news from the city.

“The first thing we shall have to consider,” said Abercromby, “is to find room in our blessed machine for the whole multitude of maidens who are keen upon coming with us. We shall have to tidy up, of course.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, my dear man,” said Carmichael. “The engineer consents to stay at home, and Jackson will stay with him. We three will go and sleep in the store-room, while the cabins and the dining-room can be allotted to the people for whose coming you are so naturally zealous.”

In fact, the machine was at the travellers’ disposal now, and they spent several days in upholstering it according to Atalantan taste. It was about a week before all was ready for the start, and by then the weather had finally cleared and the heat was rather severe.

Radcliffe had been indeed nursed back to life and health by Melanitis. Abercromby’s attitude to her was rather curious. He was always most courteous and deferential, save in one point, that he constantly talked in English to Radcliffe when she was present, and often contrived, even in the midst of a conversation that seemed to be jocose, to make allusions to the past life-sorrow of his friend. He would endeavour to throw them together as much as possible, and keep himself in the background. All this was not only puzzling but irritating to the Professor, who seldom spoke to Melanitis except when courtesy required, for he not only disliked her but feared exceedingly as to what was going to happen. One day, when they were on the eve of departure, he remarked to Abercromby: “The thing that beats me is to understand how a woman of Mexitli’s character can be blind to what is so patent—that her sister, and one whom she must regard as a barbarian, are very much in love. At first it was all on the woman’s part, but now I am convinced that Radcliffe is himself yielding, at least so far as this, that he gives to Melanitis the second place in his heart. The princess hopes, no doubt, in time to win the first, though she is too wise to hurry matters. But all this must be clear to Mexitli, and why does she not show her hand?”

“You told me yourself that there is no accounting for the ways of women or their inward logic,” said Abercromby, “but I am going to ask you a question. Is Melanitis in the least degree afraid of what her sister might do to her?”

“Not in the least, so far as I can see, and this is the queerest part of it all. But do you yourself, Abercromby, trust Melanitis?”

“Perfectly.”

“Do you, not as a rival of course, but in the way of brotherly affection, love her?”

“I love Radcliffe more.”

“Because you have known him longer?”

“For that and other reasons.”

“I believe you know more than you choose to say.”

“I want you not to think me a lunatic before it is necessary.”

Mayana, Minya, and Cleophon remained behind in the palace to assist the King in the event of dangers or difficulties.

The two princesses were to accompany the expedition, and were (it was distinctly declared) to lead it in every sense of the word. Several aerial vessels were to follow in their wake. Malchon, however, was haunted by an uneasy thought, and one day he said to Radcliffe in Mexitli’s presence: “You leave behind two of your number as hostages for your return and our own airships will follow you. I trust you fully, my son, and I am beginning to trust your friend Abercromby, but your leader is a man of science and thinks naturally more of his people than of me and mine. I know the capabilities of your machine and that it could, in a few minutes, leave us for ever. Will you promise me, in the name of Jesus Christ, that you will not do this but be faithful to the trust I repose in you and bring the princesses safe back to the palace?”

“I will do this and also more. We shall not take our terrestrial weapons but leave them behind in your safe custody. Let the princesses take their own weapons, and it is we who shall be at their mercy, not they at ours.”

Mexitli took both the hands of Radcliffe in hers and pressed them.

Carmichael was not altogether pleased with this arrangement. He indignantly denied that he had ever contemplated “doing a bolt,” as Abercromby phrased it, but he was rather perplexed to know what might happen to them if by chance they put their guests in a bad temper.

On the first day of the new month—Antarana, meaning “the greater heat”—the party took possession of the Asteroid; the King, accompanied by his guards, councillors, and attendants, amongst whom Carysfort and Jackson were present, came to bid them farewell. Jackson, forgetting it was Venus, took off his hat by way of respect, but the sun soon caused him to discover his mistake. Mayana and her sister were affectionately embraced by Mexitli, who whispered in their ears some warning words that evidently had Lydon for their chief object, as his name was heard.

The dining-room window was thrown open, and the balcony fixed in its place, so that the fresh air might penetrate to every part of the machine. The Professor went to the conning-tower and set the engines in motion. He was rather vexed that Minola, Mexitli’s maid of honour, stood by his side, silent, but noting everything that was done. The others gathered on the balcony watching the landscape beneath them. They were all in the gayest mood, more like frolicsome children than people who, even then, held, or were held by, the powers of death. Mexitli quite threw off her haughtiness and seemed thoroughly to enjoy herself, and to want all the rest to do the same. To Abercromby alone she was still a trifle distant, but the latter was so perfectly respectful that it soon disarmed her.

“I say, old man,” began Abercromby to Radcliffe, “I wonder what the Proctor would say to me now. I once ran him half round Cambridge, but I should have drawn the line at an airship. Have you heard at Oxford the song of the Proctor? It is deeply pathetic, but not quite applicable to this side of Venus.

“Every proctor has his bull-dog,
Man of doughty might,
When he sallies forth in full tog
’Mid the shades of night.”

“Is that poetry you are reciting?” said Mexitli.

“Yes, a song of Cambridge, the town where I passed my examinations—no, no, where I pursued my studies.”

“Please sing it to me in Atalantan.”

“How the deuce am I to do it?” said Abercromby. “Do give me a tip.”

Radcliffe promptly said—

“When the bold-faced idler flies
From the work he ought to do,
Man and beast, with vengeful cries,
Through the streets the knave pursue.”

“How interesting!” said Mexitli. “I should like to see it.”

All this time Melanitis had been in a condition of explosive laughter.

Meanwhile the Asteroid had been passing above the south side of the great city and then away over the gap between the two hills. The country seemed to grow every mile more beautiful—forest and meadow, waterfall and bubbling stream, with houses of quaint architecture, both small and great, perched on eminences, surrounded by groves and gardens, while a level causeway led from the south of the capital through the environs, stretching far away into the distance, curving in a south-westerly direction. Every now and again an airship passed them on its way to the city.

Abercromby narrated with much animation the story of the aerial monster whose cry of wailing had so suddenly disturbed their encampment.

The face of Melanitis grew grave. “It was the ship of death,” she said; “a prisoner condemned by us was taken to the dark hemisphere to die.”

“How was he killed?” asked Radcliffe.

“He perished in the cold night,” said Mexitli in a rather hard tone. “He was a spy of the priests, who sought to stir up disaffection. When the ship of death sighted the polar terrors, it was lowered to the frozen ice-field; the man was turned adrift with the customary words, ‘Unworthy of the glories of the day, worthy of the terrors of the night.’ The task accomplished, the ship returns and awaits its next hapless passenger.”

“Would that have been our doom, princess?”

“It might have been; it very nearly was. By the by, you seriously transgressed our laws in haranguing the people in a place of public resort, as you did on the occasion of that absurd festival. But, of course, you were on our side, so you won’t hear any more about it.”

“Are open-air addresses contrary to the laws of Atalanta?” asked Radcliffe in a rather pained tone.

“I can alter the laws if needs be,” said Mexitli; “but you must seek my permission before you adopt any such method again. I will give you plenty of other means of carrying out your plans. You see, any address to the people savours of sedition, as it has been always used for that end; but perhaps I shall let you have your wish in due time.”

“Look! The sea! the sea!” cried Abercromby. “I am as excited as old Xenophon’s Greeks. An airship would have settled their job much more quickly. He would not have had to write so much Greek, and I might not have been ‘plucked’ in consequence.”

“Leave these old-world allusions and look at this glorious sight,” said Mexitli; “there is the coast-line of our grand continent, and away, beyond the horizon, is Melandria.”

“This is much more like a terrestrial view, is it not?” said Abercromby to Melanitis.

“Much more like,” she replied.

Radcliffe darted upon her a swift look of uttermost surprise.

“The observatory on Aptaura is a famous place for seeing Karamandra,” she said.

“Very excellent indeed,” remarked Abercromby in a somewhat inscrutable tone.

Mexitli pointed to a colony of houses overlooking a forest that extended nearly down to the shore. “We will picnic there,” she said. “Minola, tell the pilot of our good vessel to direct it to the point which I indicate.”

Carmichael obeyed with a docility rather novel to him, and they came to an anchor on a meadow-green lawn of smooth grass only a few feet elevated above the water’s edge. A venerable Atalantan matron, leaning upon the arms of her son and nephew, came forward from the terrace of the house nearest to the sea and made a profound obeisance to the princesses.

“Carmichael,” said Melanitis, “be so good as to guard the Asteroid while we picnic here, we shall not be long.”

Abercromby looked rather indignant, but at last broke out into a laugh.

“Come, Professor, don’t elope to China; no, of course, I mean to Atalanta. Write your notes and edit your experiences. Be a Cambridge don, and dream you are sending me down.”

“Eat some lunch will be more likely,” grumbled the Professor. “I have taken the precaution to bring a decent pile of sandwiches with me; I only regret they were not made even in Germany.”

The statuesque Minola sat down close to the entrance to the machine; she began to read one of the manuscripts which Radcliffe had finished. The Professor had his lunch all to himself, watching his silent duenna with feelings far from satisfactory, for the maiden had always one of the green tubes at hand, and seemed quite ready to use it.

The aged woman’s name was Amarilla; she had lived all her life in this lonely corner of the empire, supporting herself by the work of her son’s hands and her own. They had made a little paradise of this rough shore-line. She was deeply versed in the religious philosophy of her country in its ancient form, and had always lived in hope that she might, as she phrased it, “hear the silence of the skies broken.” During the picnic conversation flowed apace; Amarilla besought the strangers to tell her of their own world and of its people, of their religion, their laws, their arts, their government.

Radcliffe and Abercromby obeyed; the princesses sat motionless and silent, taking in every word.

Their principal topic, however, was the history of the Christian religion in Karamandra and the desperate struggle it had waged with its pagan foes.

Radcliffe told the story of Polycarp, of Cyprian, and of Perpetua and Felicitas, at which his hearers were intensely moved.

“You will never have these obstacles in Atalanta,” said Amarilla, “but you will have others, chiefly the invincible unwillingness of the people to bestir themselves, to awake from the dreaming of centuries, and from the pride which makes them believe that everything in the Flowery Land is perfect and can never be altered except for the worse. My rulers command me in all things but one: they let me give the allegiance of my soul to the King of Heaven and to the exiled Prince.”

“Mother, I allow you to speak quite freely, but tell me in return, are you quite sure that the allegiance of which you speak will never conflict with the allegiance to the throne?”

“Try it, princess, when you are queen, and you will find that the more your people love God the better will they serve you. And as for you, strangers, go forth and spread everywhere the things which God has done for your world, and pray to Him that He may yet do equal things for ours.”

Both the princesses took a fond farewell, and then they returned to the Asteroid.

While the Professor resumed his duties as steersman, the party once more discussed subjects of literary interest, as the machine pursued its short aerial journey to the island.

“One of the prettiest samples of our national poetry,” said Mexitli, “is the lyrical invocation to the Sun God. I omit the part which is abominably idolatrous, but the prelude, where Asti vaunts his own greatness, is at least geographical—

My power doth fence the realm of polar snows,
My rays smite kindling, high Aptaura’s pile,
Mine is the light that on Meloria glows,
And mine the twilight in Melandria’s isle.”

Abercromby had been making his first attempt at Atalantan poetry by trying to turn “All in the hush of twilight” into Atalantan verse. He was fairly successful, though Mexitli told him he must study for a year before he could do real justice in their own poetry to a lovely lyric in another language. All agreed, however, that though not suitable to Central Atalanta, where the sun was not on the horizon, it would be sure to take the fancy of the Melandrians, for they always had to live in a twilight land, and loved it so much, that they would like to be in the hush of the twilight from end to end of their planetary year.

CHAPTER XX
THE ISLAND OF TWILIGHT

The spin over the sea about thirty miles in length, through a swift current of bracing air, was soon accomplished. The heights of the great island quickly towered before them. Melandria had a more terrestrial look: there were bays and roadsteads, where many ships might have lain at anchor. But of these there were none; all communication with the mainland was through the air. A large town lay along the sea border, with a long esplanade and something like earthly roads, and highways led out from it into the interior. The island was at least one hundred miles in circuit; its greatest breadth was about twenty miles, narrowing to a long trailing peninsula, not much wooded, but covered with open moorlands, while the glowing orb of the sun on the horizon lit up the whole landscape with a sunset splendour. In the middle of the island was a high-peaked hill, from the summit of which a dazzling spot of white snow could be discerned to the south.

“There is Aptaura, the boundary line between two hemispheres, close to the southern pole, and twenty miles in height,” said Mexitli.

They anchored on the top of the peak. Near to the top, in a sheltered hollow, lay a beautiful country house, the residence of the governor of Melandria, whose name was Andron. He only held office during the King’s lifetime. He was a very learned man, and he rejoiced at the opportunity of conversing with the Professor and his companions. So the party at once repaired to the house, where a sumptuous meal was provided. The expression must not be taken in too terrestrial a sense, for, in Atalanta, the actual amount of drink and still more of food would hardly, as regards quantity, have sufficed a child from the other planet. The native foods and drinks were practically medicines of a very palatable order, and were all intended to have a direct influence upon the bodily frame. The more exquisite the delicacy the more dangerous it would be to indulge too freely in it. Carmichael looked with astonishment at Radcliffe, supping on a small plate of some high-coloured substance and a slender goblet of pale rose-tinted liquid.

The guests, however, had all the more leisure at their disposal for talk. The Professor, for their own good, told them many interesting facts about the earth and its ways, while Radcliffe plied others with questions as to the planet on which he had resolved to spend his remaining years of life. Andron was much interested in astronomy, and told the terrestrials all the main facts which the Atalantans had found out about the solar system.

Mercury and the earth were, of course, the planets best known to them, and he made the sage remark that astronomers would do better to put up with the trouble of the sunlight and study Mercury as a morning star rather than face what he considered to be the far greater difficulties of going to the frozen hemisphere and looking at it so low down on the horizon.

“Do you think Mercury is inhabited?” asked Radcliffe.

“Certainly not,” answered Andron. “Mercury is only a repetition of our own planet with polar terrors on one side and a sun about three times larger than our sun. All our vegetation would be withered, and there would be but half the space which we have on which it could grow. Even this presupposes that its surface is all land, whereas it is probably a sea of fire and molten metal.”

After this learned talk about the stars, to which Carmichael added the surprising news that there were two planets beyond the orbit of Saturn which the Atalantans had not discovered, the converse took a more religious turn. Andron and his wife Ayacatil were delighted to have given to them a copy in manuscript of St. Luke’s Gospel and the Acts. Andron promised that many copies should be circulated in the island. He asked Radcliffe a rather remarkable question: if the abominations committed upon the earth were wholly and entirely the work of mankind, or whether there were occult powers of evil acting upon them from without? When Radcliffe spoke of the teaching of Christianity upon this dark subject, Andron and Ayacatil both expressed the opinion that it was no use to deny that the Atalantans were more free from crimes of violence and mere insensate wickedness—in fact, that it was hardly possible to find people who ever did wickedness that was contrary to their own interests. Sins there were, and plenty, in Atalanta, but there was always a reason for them; there was nothing extravagant or maniacal, nothing uncontrolled or uncontrollable.

“Surely then,” said Radcliffe, “as Atalanta has been left all these ages to work out its destiny on the side of good, so likewise it has been left unmolested on the side of the powers of evil. I do not believe there are such powers in this planet. This would account for the whole course of divine treatment which Providence has adopted towards it.”

“This appears to me very just reasoning,” said Ayacatil; “we breathe a purer atmosphere in this planet, and therefore a large number of spiritual and moral maladies are cut off.”

“But that makes us wholly responsible for those that remain,” remarked Mexitli. “However, I mean to look facts in the face and study all that God has taught the other planet, and see what light the teaching can throw upon this.”

The Professor was about to lead the discussion back to the heavenly bodies, when Abercromby asked if they might enjoy some more of the national poetry of Atalanta and its melodies.

Ayacatil pressed Mexitli to honour them with an example of her own artistic powers.

The princess consented, and sang some stanzas of the grand lyric—

“HOW KERAUNION DIED”

Sing me a tale of the days gone by,
Of the days that were brave and bold,
Ere the minstrel charmed with his minstrelsy,
But love wrought deeds untold;

When to love and to succour was all our pride,—

In the days when King Keraunion died.

The clouds had gathered all over the hills,

And Asti had hidden His glorious face,

The rain mist had flowed o’er the trembling rills,

And faster the clouds did race

To the trysting-place whither their squadrons ride,

On the night when King Keraunion died!

A subject had served him right faithful and true,

Had stood ’mid the trustiest round his throne,

And the sky of the monarch was cloudless and blue,

And all Atalanta he called his own.

Ah! how can we tell how events shall betide

When we hear of the way that Keraunion died?

For the sky of the subject was draped in gloom,

And his head was bowed in a sore distress,
And life had become as the fearsome tomb,
A drear and a pitiless wilderness.
His only child had strayed from his side
On the mountain path where Keraunion died.

The King set forth alone. He wrought

’Mid the gathering darkness the truant to seek.

A courtier the tidings of anguish brought,

And he gave the advice of the timid and weak:

“For what would become of the land,” he cried,

“If boldness he urged, and Keraunion died?”

The King spurned the counsel, and threaded his way.

Unconscious of pain, and of peril sore,
He came to the place where the maiden lay,
And safe to the summit her frail form bore.

Now who would have thought in that moment of pride

That the hour was come when Keraunion died?

A bird of prey, with ravenous beak,
Struck at the child brought back to life;
But there, on the edge of that yawning deep,
The rescuer fought it in doubtful strife.
So the maid sped swift to her father’s side,
But the fight was over—Keraunion died.

The King fought on with fast ebbing life,
Driven to the verge of the beetling rock;
The monster watched every turn of the strife,
And drove in his last relentless shock.
From the dizzy height of the mountain side
Keraunion was hurled—and Keraunion died.

A murmur of admiration pervaded the company.

“Well, let us adjourn to the lawn,” said the royal songstress, “and have a little more talk upon serious subjects. We are all in the mood, I fancy.”

CHAPTER XXI
THE PEAK OF APTAURA

They spent five days in the island before setting out for Aptaura. During this time Melanitis and Radcliffe explored in all directions; they roamed the woods and the glens, they sat by the waterfalls, they paid friendly visits to the chief people of the town, enjoying themselves to the utmost. It was as though they had made an unwritten compact that this was to be a holiday interlude. The princess gave him a fund of information about the Atalantan people, and taught him many things it was most necessary to know. Carmichael enjoyed society in his own way, and certainly won the hearts of the learned.

Just before they started, an airship arrived from the mainland flying the red pennant of the palace. It bore several letters, only one of which need detain us. There was a sealed despatch from Mayana, which evidently caused Mexitli a measure of care, for she knitted her brows as she read it. But she did not divulge the contents, beyond assuring her guests that they had no cause for fear.

There was a letter from Carysfort merely telling of his literary work, but making scantiest allusion to anything else; the Professor read it to the others and then put it in his pocket. But there was a letter from Tom which sent the whole party into such convulsions of laughter that it is to be wondered that they were not all of them ill. The example of the others proved contagious—to Melanitis, at least, for she could hardly retain her seat without holding on to it. The letter, however, was so hilariously engrossing that the terrestrials scarce noticed the princess’s condition.

It was to Carmichael, and is worth quoting entire.

“Dear Mr. Professor,

“Pardon the liberty I am taking, but I thought you would like to know how we are all doing. First, I’ll just say that I like old King Malchon better and better. He is the dearest old genelman that ever I see. He took me for a walk round the terraces, leaning on my arm, and I never had no King, dook, nor baron to show me such honour yet.

“I sang him one of the hymns Mr. Radcliffe likes which he used to have at his church.

“Mrs. Cleophon (I forget her Christian name) does the bigger half of his business for him, and a real lady she is.

“Miss Melanitis is sure to look after dear Mr. Radcliffe, and to see that he doesn’t walk the dark side of the south pole without his greatcoat. Would you just tell him that he said he was going to learn Miss Mexitli the art of playing chess? if he do, as soon as she has learned the moves, he must be sure to let her win some of the games.

“I don’t go in for politics, but it’s myself that thinks there will be a job on with them priests, for I fancy, and Mrs. Cleophon thinks so too, that that old rascal Lydon is after some mischief. But if the Lord will, the queens will be coming back soon, and they will finish his bother.

“Now, about Mr. Carysfort. He is writing a big book on Venus for the other world, and he means to give it to the Vice-Chancellor. He is also going to write to Mr. Chamberlain, the German Emperor, and the Prime Minister, though I think there will be a new one before we get back.

“Hoping this will find you well, as it leaves us at present,

“I am,

“Your humble servant,

“Tom.”

Soon the heights of Melandria faded in the twilight of the low red sun. They held on their way to the mainland, which they now perceived to be but a narrow neck of country tapering off to a point. The other ocean came in sight, and at last, where the land ended in a magnificent headland, against which the waters beat with tempestuous fury, stood a lonely house surrounded with high walls and rocky ramparts, to protect it from the fury of the southern sea.

“These are the last Atalantans except upon Aptaura,” said Mexitli. “We will salute them and hasten on.” This they did from a height of about five hundred feet.

Across the straits rose the warden of the frozen pole, the giant Aptaura, his snow-white crest gilded by the rays of the ice-bound sun, his mighty granite mass rising sheer out of the deep. The peak seemed utterly inaccessible to mortal enterprise, and so indeed it was till the era of the airship.

Higher, and yet higher, they ascended, till the summit was scaled at last, twenty miles in perpendicular height. There, protected by a rampart of rock, nestled the Observatory, a low-roofed building with several giant reflectors, telescope shaped, pointed towards the sky.

To the south were the frozen ice-fields, wrapped in polar darkness; the air was piercingly keen, the stars shone out in the black sky, and, near the horizon, behold, one bright, greenish-red star of incomparable richness and brilliance, a small glittering moon.

“There is your world,” said Mexitli, pointing to it.

It was the earth.

CHAPTER XXII
THE GREAT MYSTERY

The staff at the Observatory consisted of three men of science with their servants. They were elderly men who had devoted their lives to the study of the heavens in this region of awful isolation and loneliness—the highest spot by far in the whole planet. Melanitis had been there several times, but Mexitli only upon one former occasion. Both the princesses spoke the kindest words of greeting to the brave colony of scientific recluses, and introduced the visitors from earth.

But though the Professor and his two companions were wonderfully struck with the grandeur of the mountain and the incomparable view, they quickly saw that there was little astronomical knowledge for them to learn that they did not already know from the more favourable view-point of their own world.

Radcliffe was also greatly astonished to find that the Atalantan knowledge of the earth extended only to its larger physical outlines—the continents, peninsulas, and islands; but they scarcely knew more of the earth than we do of Mars, and not nearly as much as we know of the moon. The earth was a far lovelier object in the sky of Venus, from Aptaura, than Venus is in our sky, but it was an almost impossible task for any Atalantan, unless helped by the palace, to get there to see it. In fact, Malchon supported his astronomers out of his own private liberality, and men of learning assisted him in so doing.

Many weeks would be required for study and observations before any solid results could be attained, and Mercury was far more easily observed from the lighted hemisphere.

Mexitli therefore declared that she could not stay more than one night, and she contented herself with viewing the heavens from the interior of the Asteroid; the cold of open-air research was appalling, and she naturally avoided it. The next day they re-entered the region of light, Melanitis promising that Radcliffe should come with her to the summit another time.

They landed at the southern end of the continent, and put up for a day or two at the castellated house overlooking the glorious sea, along the shore of which they had several excursions. Recreation of the most bracing type was to be obtained here.

But an astounding event was at hand.

The owner of the house was a brave and hardy landowner named Carminon, who, with his wife Mexilla, were great favourites of the court, to whose couriers they had rendered many a service. They had saved the lives of more than one occupant of a damaged or storm-tossed airship. On the last evening of their stay Mexilla expressed a wish to hear some of the melodies of Karamandra, and Radcliffe sang several hymns in English, and Abercromby gave them a taste of patriotic songs. But Mexilla wanted a Karamandran love song, and would not be put off with anything else.

“Come, old man, you must fire away,” said Abercromby; “you have not to preach to-morrow, so you won’t mind getting a trifle hoarse.”

Radcliffe used to sing in earlier days an old-world song called “Solitude,” which had been quite the rage in its time, though long superseded by a different style; so he began—

“It is not that my lot is low
That makes the silent tears to flow,
It is not grief that makes me mourn,
I weep that I am all alone.
The woods and winds with sullen wail
Tell out the same unvarying tale.

“I would not be a leaf to die
With none to think nor care for me,
Yet in my dreams a form I view
That thinks on me and loves me too.
I start—but then the vision’s flown;
I wake—and I am all alone!”

Radcliffe rather wailed than sang the last lines. Mexilla, though not understanding the words, was intensely moved, and even Mexitli turned away her head to hide her feelings.

But upon Melanitis the song had a deeper and a more poignant effect—she started to her feet, advanced a step towards him, and sank in a collapsed heap upon the floor.

“What have I done!” he cried in alarm and distraction.

“It is but a faintness, do not be distressed,” said Mexitli calmly, and raising Melanitis she, with the aid of Abercromby, carried her from the room. Some anxious time elapsed, and then Abercromby re-entered.

“Come quickly to the Asteroid,” he said. “Melanitis is all right, but I must have a very serious talk with you, the most serious we have ever had.”

Abercromby led the way to the dining-room, which they had all to themselves.

“Now, Clarence,” he said, “pull yourself together and be calm. Answer me truly and clearly—is your heart loyal to the memory of your wife, or have you succumbed to a later influence?”

“Absolutely loyal unto death, and beyond it to the Mansions of the Blest,” he answered.

“Then you do not desire to marry Melanitis?”

“Never; my love for her deepens, but it never overtakes the love for her that is gone, for that also grows fonder and fonder.”

“Very good. This will simplify matters much. By the by, you could not have married Melanitis had you wished.”

“Why?”

“Because you are married already.”

“I was.”

“You are.”

Radcliffe stared at Abercromby in dazed astonishment.

Abercromby went on: “Suppose your love for your wife had faded, you could only have married again when she was dead.”

“She is dead,” said Radcliffe.

“She is not dead.”

The words rang out like a clarion note.

“What madness is this? I saw the inquest on her dead body rescued from the Welsh river. I accompanied the poor remains to the little churchyard under the Cotswolds. My own voice (how I did it God only knows) read the service over her to save her stricken father. And now you tell me she is alive!”

“It is true,” answered Abercromby.

“Where?” scornfully.

“In Atalanta. Melanitis will restore her to you in ten days, perhaps less.”

“You are fooling, Abercromby.”

“I love you too well for that.”

“Then there has been sorcery and witchcraft.”

“None whatever; no such arts are practised here. You speculated truly the other day that the devil is limited to our own luckless planet.”

“Have the Atalantans visited the earth in one of their machines?”

“They lack the means of setting it going. The motive force is not existent in Venus.”

“Have they stolen the Asteroid?”

“They would not have known how to steer it beyond their own atmosphere.”

“Am I to see her in the spirit or in the flesh?”

“In the flesh.”

“Is she changed?”

“Well, yes! But forgive me if I say that I consider she is changed for the better.”

“Do you know how it has been done?”

“Perfectly.”

“Who told you?”

“I found it out for myself.”

“As you hope for salvation at the last, will you pledge me that you are speaking the truth?”

“Absolutely, literally, entirely.”

Radcliffe was staggered.

“Scepticism dies hard in a despairing breast,” he went on. “Can you give me any tangible proof beyond your own word? Excuse me, Frank, my all is at stake.”

“Yes! I can give you one proof at any rate. How came the knowledge of the English alphabet to Atalanta?”

“Jackson told us he was hypnotised.”

“Nonsense! Jackson thinks so, but I know better. Your wife wrote out that paper with her own hands. Jackson was put to sleep, or rather tempted to put himself to sleep by going too deeply into his cups. But this was done to rob the machine, not to study English. Your wife wrote the paper in a disguised hand.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because she told me so herself.”

Again Radcliffe fairly winced, like a man receiving a blow.

“Have you had intercourse and converse with her all the time you have been in Atalanta?”

“Certainly not, considering I was in gaol.”

“When did you first do so?”

“After that row in Parmenton’s house—quite recently therefore.”

“Where did you see her?”

“In the palace.”

“Does Melanitis know her?”

“Intimately.”

“She hates her, of course?”

“On the contrary, she has a very good opinion of her.”

“Does Mexitli know of all this?”

“Fully, and is very pleased.”

“It is stupendous,” said Radcliffe. “Can you tell me what the Professor thinks?”

“That you made an ass of yourself this evening. Further than this he knows nothing. He is even more nonplussed than you are.”

“You can tell me the whole secret, I suppose?”

“I could, but I shan’t.”

“Because of Melanitis?”

“No, because of the King. Your only peril lies there. But the worst that can happen is this—that you and your wife may be packed off back to the earth. If you are, I will remain to carry on your work.”

“What!”

“Nothing more nor less.”

“Once more, I beseech you to tell me.”

“I dare not and I ought not, and therefore I will not; you can wait ten days, man!”

At that moment Minola appeared, and said: “Your excellencies are summoned to attend upon the Lady Mexitli; she is in sore distress.”

Abercromby started. “Well, Clarence, it may be that the mine is to be exploded now; if so, better perhaps for you. But muster all your courage and prepare for a stunning shock.”

Radcliffe drew himself up. “Can you tell me what has happened?” he said to Minola.

“I may not answer questions, though I would gladly if I might,” she replied.

At that moment they reached the door of the house. Mexilla was supporting both the princesses, who were in a state of indescribable agitation. Carmichael was calm, but his face wore a very stern expression.

“Ladies, we crave permission to know what is the matter,” said Radcliffe.

“Atalanta is in revolt,” said Mexitli. “The priest party, aided by the traitors Parmenton, Mauro, and Medon, have surrounded the palace. All is lost.”

“No, that shall never be,” said Radcliffe. “We will put all our power at your disposal, display the scarlet banner and fight under it by your side.”

“By George! I thought he was a missionary!” said Abercromby. “But no matter, I shall not mind a fight, if it comes to that.”

“Will you stand by us?” asked Mexitli.

“Unto death,” said Radcliffe.

“If we win, you shall be the highest noble in Atalanta,” she cried. “I will give to your companions an absolute pardon, and raise them all to the ranks of my nobility.”

A cheer broke from the Atalantans present; such a scene of enthusiasm followed as was rarely witnessed on Venus. Melanitis kept very much in the background, though she spoke kind words to each and all, but Mexitli went and shook hands with every one, even with the Professor and Abercromby, a thing she had never done before.

Orders were given to start at once. Carmichael, who was dead-tired, had to make a rush for the conning-tower.

“We are in for a regular deuce of a row,” said Abercromby. “I have seen it coming for a long time. It will clear the air, at all events. I want a good square talk with you, Professor.”

“Then you can’t have it. I have to run this machine at breakneck speed back to Atalanta, and heaven only knows what will happen to us when we get there.”

The princess sent an imperious message that the Professor must give up his steering-seat to Minola and come and take part in her council. This he flatly refused to do, at which Mexitli took great offence, threatening that “under these circumstances to disobey was death.” “We shall all die by breaking our necks if that girl takes the steering; she is totally unused to it.” Minola looked very resentful, and even laid her hand upon her weapon; but Radcliffe quieted her by soothing words, and, after some trouble, Mexitli owned that perhaps it was better that this particular machine should be steered by those who had made it.

Abercromby whispered to Radcliffe, “Your affair is not on just now, old man; perhaps it is as well. We must settle old Lydon’s bother first, then your turn shall come.”

The council was harmonious enough, for Mexitli did all, or nearly all, of the talking. She decided that they must make a forced flight to Atalanta and observe from the air all that was going on.

Not even Radcliffe could induce her to tell them how the trouble had begun; this she was resolved to keep to herself. All they learned was that the rebels had got possession of the lower part of the city, had burned Mayana’s mansion to the ground, and had then surrounded the palace hill. All the adherents of the priesthood of the Sun had taken up arms, and they had been joined by a large number of the lowest of the populace. The rebels had resolved on a complete revolution, both in the religious and in the social life of Atalanta.

The restless energy of Mexitli disdained to take any repose. The Professor grumbled that if the devil had been at their heels they could not have gone very much faster, but, as Abercromby remarked, since Radcliffe had ruled him out of all possession in Venus, it was the princess who would have to drive them instead.

CHAPTER XXIII
LYDON’S REVOLT

Sooner than they had expected, much to the delight of Mexitli, the well-known outline of the Keraunian hills appeared on the northern horizon. The Asteroid halted a mile above the city of Atalanta.

“Have we your permission, lady, to alight first upon the palace terrace?” asked Abercromby in a tone of solemn irony.

Mexitli coloured, but said: “You are pleased to be caustic, but I suppose you have the right. When we have taken our observations, do so, and you shall go unpunished.”

From the upper part of the Asteroid they stepped upon the balcony and noticed the great commotion in progress below. Up the Avenue of Ascent a troop of armed men were advancing to reinforce their comrades, who were encamped on the ridges of the palace height. The sunlight glinted upon a forest of spears and lances.

“They have only their primitive weapons,” said Melanitis. “They have been deprived of the use of the tubes.”

“Let me strike the first blow, and from the sky,” said Mexitli.

She pointed her green metal in a diagonal line in the direction of the enemy. Minola did the same. Flash after flash was sent downwards, but no apparent effect followed.

“The range is too distant,” said Melanitis. “We must descend lower.”

Slowly the Asteroid dropped by the action of the fans. Then at the distance of a quarter of a mile the firing was recommenced. Several were seen to stagger and fall; others, unable through the dazzling sunlight to locate their aerial foes, took to their heels.

“That is Lydon,” shouted Abercromby. “He is rallying them and urging them to return.”

Minola instantly levelled the green tube, but before it could be discharged a blinding flash broke from the building at the angle of the terrace parapet. A pyramid of fire shot into the sky; the Asteroid itself was rocked by the air currents, and they were nearly thrown off their feet. A deafening roar followed, and a thick column of yellow vapour hid everything for a few minutes.

Mexitli clung to Radcliffe with a convulsive grasp; then she wrung her hands in agony. Minola gave way to a burst of tears and crying.

“Tell us what has happened,” said Abercromby.

“We will be with you to the last,” exclaimed Radcliffe.

“I know it,” she replied, “but it may well mean that you will perish along with us. That building which has been wrecked is the arsenal; it contains all the materials for the manufacture of our weapons of defence. Many weeks must pass before we could possibly provide new material. It is now a conflict of force against a handful—ourselves and our friends, who will be quite defenceless, and who may be either starved out or stormed out.”

“Send an airship to Melandria—the people are all faithful there,” said Abercromby.

“Well thought of,” replied Melanitis.

“It can be done,” said Mexitli, “but they can bring us but scanty supplies.”

“How many times could you fire the weapons you are carrying with you?”

“About twenty times, each of us.”

“What has been done with our own weapons and ammunition? All this could be used. It would be better than the weapons of the rebels,” said Radcliffe.

“You shall each of you be put in trust with it.”

“Head for the palace, Carmichael,” Abercromby called out.

In a few minutes they were on the terrace, where the palace guards were drawn up to repel any assault. But none such had been attempted. The enemy had been satisfied with their master-stroke, and fully believed that the day was won.

Presently Carysfort and Jackson came forth with pale but resolute faces.

“The King is in his cabinet; he is on his knees praying, sir,” said Tom. “I told him to do it by signs, and then I took off my jacket and my waistcoat to let him feel easy that I was ready for the other business.”

“This palace shall be your abode, Mayana, if we only triumph,” said Mexitli, embracing her. “Do not despair. Our brave friends are going to help us.”

“Suppose we go straight for the rascals just when they think we are hiding,” said Tom. “Rush ’em all at once; that’s my ticket. Old Lydon is below. I peeped over and saw his ugly old head. He is jabbering away, either to the sun or else to his men, only a few hundred yards off. Just say the word, Professor, and I’ll give him one in the nose, and that will end all the trouble.”

Melanitis, half laughing, turned to Radcliffe.

“Go to the room above the Hall of Perfect Justice. Minola will direct you. There are your weapons; they are all safely deposited.”

“Hold steady, Tom,” cried Carmichael. “Do you think you can run at all those savages unarmed and alone? Wait, and don’t be a fool; we can’t let you throw yourself away like that.”

Tom swore, but obeyed.

Meantime a sharp conflict was going on in the Avenue. Missiles were hurled from the house-tops, chiefly by the women and children, upon the enemy below, and many were killed or disabled. Parmenton and his fellows set fire to one of the houses, and it was soon a heap of smoking ruins. The inmates sallied out, and, aided by their friends and kinsmen, pressed severely upon the rear of the attacking force. The arms taken from the Asteroid were quickly in the hands of the royal party, who needed very little teaching how to use them with deadly effect. The sharp cracking reports echoed around, and, with every one, some enemy was laid low. Then King Malchon came forth.

“My daughters, I will seek to imitate the nobleness of Keraunion. I will lead the sallying party myself.”

“Do not think of it,” said Melanitis, seeking to draw him back. “It is the King’s duty to direct others to fight.” But Malchon would not be dissuaded. He set his foot on the rocky steps. “My guards, follow me; let us deliver our city from these misguided traitors. God is with us; it is for Him we are fighting, not for our own glory only. Forward!”

Mexitli called to Mayana and her sister to stand behind the parapet and cover their friends by an incessant discharge. At first this was easy enough, and many a foe was laid in the dust; but, as the two parties joined in actual conflict, they scarcely dared to keep it up for fear of hitting the King and his guards.

Abercromby, Carysfort, and Radcliffe were soon in the fight, but Tom was the most reckless of the whole party. He had often heard Abercromby tell the story of Admiral Napier saying to the sailors on the eve of starting for the Baltic: “Lads, sharpen your cutlasses and make ready.” So he kept on shouting this and other watchwords, interlarding them with less classical language. He ran full-tilt at the line of spears, wrenched one out of the hand of its holder, and ran him through the body with it. Cleito was by his side in a moment, and the guards forced their way by sheer physical strength, and beat back the advancing line.

Radcliffe was in the most imminent danger. Lydon saw him and marked him out for vengeance. He made unlimited promises to any who would bring him dead or alive. He was seized by Mauro Katakalon, and though he struck out with all his might, he felt his strength giving way. He was in full view of Mexitli, who was holding one of the Professor’s pistols. In an agony of supplication Melanitis besought her to fire. Mexitli’s hand trembled as she did so; the bullet struck the gilded armour of Mauro and penetrated his shoulder. More furious than ever, the burly giant seized the waist of Radcliffe and dragged him along the ground. Some one slipped a revolver into the hand of Melanitis. She leaned over the parapet, there was a sharp report, Mauro Katakalon relaxed his hold; he was killed instantly. A cheer went up, it put new life into the hearts of the defenders.

Radcliffe, no sooner free, ran to the help of Tom, who was sore pressed, for he was in the grasp of three or four assailants. One of these was Lydon himself; he saw the day was lost, for by this time the population from the upper part of the city had issued forth against him. Malchon had scattered the foes in front, and all that remained was to overpower the retinue in immediate attendance upon the high priest. Abercromby and Carysfort had performed prodigies, and were beside the King warding off blows on all hands.

Lydon, by a last effort, had led a furious charge upon the division of the guards in which Cleito and Radcliffe were posted. They were in full view of their friends on the terrace, who encouraged them by voice and gesture. The ammunition, however, was giving out, Mayana and Minya having been too prodigal in their use of it, though they stoutly declared that every shot had told.

Lydon dashed his way to where the King was posted and hurled a lance at his head. The weapon was struck aside by Tom in full flight, but his own spear was splintered in doing so. In a moment he and his foes were struggling together upon the ground. Radcliffe, not able to intervene, shouted to Arniphon, Cleito’s colleague, who came running up with a dozen guards. But the King’s personal danger was so imminent that he could spare no time for anything else, and closed in a desperate conflict with Lydon. The priest’s attendants were dispersed like chaff, and Lydon, after fighting like a mad dog, as Abercromby said, for another five minutes, was at last overpowered and manacled. The fate of their leader, along with that of Parmenton and Medon, who were captured likewise, practically ended the conflict.

The King was deadly pale and exhausted. Abercromby and Radcliffe held him up by each arm and assisted him to mount the steps, which were stained with blood and cumbered by the bodies of the fallen.

“Nearly one-half of the guards are dead,” said Malchon in a tone of deep grief.

“Your throne has been saved,” said Abercromby.

“But was I worthy of it?” said Malchon in a saddened voice.

All Atalanta was hushed that night. Few households were there that had not to mourn their dead. There were no boisterous rejoicings over the victory, as would have been the case on the earth, though there was an inward satisfaction none the less deep. In the palace all was gratitude and harmony. Every one had reason to congratulate every one else on having done something for Atalanta.

Upon the travellers every mark of affection which gratitude could lavish was bestowed. The original sentence was cancelled; they were all enrolled in the highest ranks of the nobility.

“This will enable us each to marry,” said Frank to the Professor. “There is scarce a female in Atalanta who will not be proud of you.”

“Many thanks, Abercromby, and assist me all you can to realise the splendour of my privilege. I am just going to calculate when the earth will reach its nearest point to Venus.”

“There are three matters pending before you start, Professor: one is to find poor Tom, the other to assist at the trial and execution of Lydon, the third to make Radcliffe happy.”

“We will take them in order, if we are allowed,” answered Carmichael.

That night a supper party was held in the palace. The King sat at the head of the table, one of his daughters on either side. Mexitli was radiant with delight, Melanitis dignified and outwardly calm. The feeling was almost too intense for words. The flattery and ceremony, so characteristic of Atalanta, was well-nigh absent. Tongues were at last unloosed, when Malchon rose and said—

“Through the mercy of heaven we are delivered from the most heart-breaking danger that has ever menaced us or our people. Soon we shall be called upon to pass sentence upon such of the ringleaders as are in our power. But to-night let all thoughts of vengeance be laid aside. I would suggest that each of our friends from the sister planet be invited to solicit from us some token of our gratitude. You, Carmichael, who are the leader of the expedition, tell us what is your chief desire.”

“Permission to return to our own planet and to communicate to our people whatever knowledge we have acquired here which will be good and useful for them.”

“I echo the same wish,” said the engineer.

A murmur of disappointment made itself audible.

“Think not that we are ungrateful,” Carysfort went on, “but know that our sole object in coming was to enlarge the knowledge of our brothers in Karamandra. But I would, if permission be granted us to return, leave everything which we have brought with us in the Asteroid, except what is absolutely necessary for our journey, behind for the use of the King and his people.”

“I grant you the permission to return, if when the moment which our astronomers deem the right one shall come, you still adhere to your resolutions.”

“I request permission to preach the religion of Jesus Christ by speech and writing in Atalanta,” said Radcliffe.

“You have been fully tested, my son,” said Malchon. “I and the princesses have long since resolved to assist you.”

“As for me,” replied Abercromby in a rather breezy tone, “I have got to love this world. I hated it at one time, but I like it now, so I should be glad if you would let me stay. There is one other thing. I spoke rudely to the Princess Mexitli in this very hall, and I beg her pardon here and now. I was savage and forgot myself, and I really thought she meant to kill the whole lot of us.”

“I am afraid I did, so I will hold you quite excused,” answered Mexitli; “and I am glad indeed to hear that you mean to stay with us.”

Had a thunderbolt descended at their feet, the Professor and engineer could not have been more astounded. They had not the remotest idea that Abercromby was not returning with them.

“He must be stark mad,” said Carysfort to the Professor—“spend his life in Venus indeed! Depend upon it there is some girl in the background.”

“No there is not—I stay for Radcliffe and his wife,” replied Abercromby quickly.

“He’s done it! I knew it would be so!” gasped Carmichael. “Radcliffe is going to marry the lady with the letter M. after all.” These remarks were whispered in English.

“There is one thing I much regret,” resumed Malchon, “and that is the loss of the faithful servant of our friends. The rebels either slew him or carried him away. He was a good man and a brave, and search must be ordered everywhere to ascertain his fate.”

The rest of the time passed pleasantly enough with interludes of music and song. When the guests rose it was four hours after the banquet had begun. The poor Professor very nearly dropped asleep at the supper table. Time was little reckoned in Atalanta. The terrestrials could hardly tear themselves away from the hand-clasps which greeted them on every side. Even then both Radcliffe and Abercromby had to stay yet another hour to talk over what steps should be taken to obliterate the traces of the revolt and to make the best use of the victory. At last Mayana said to Cleophon—

“Unless you let these poor dears go and secure a period of sleep we shall be responsible for killing both of them. I won’t even sing them a song. Turn them out of the room. Do you agree to this, princess?”

“Yes,” replied Mexitli; “I am somewhat inclined to sleep myself. We have all done a good day’s work, I think.”

CHAPTER XXIV
THE DENUNCIATION AND THE RETRIBUTION

Radcliffe awoke the next morning with a dull feeling of anxiety oppressing him. The thrilling episodes of the fight, the loss of Tom, the decision of Abercromby, all these had, for a while, driven away the dominant thought of his heart, but with the first moment of quiet leisure it returned with unabated intensity.

Lilian was in the palace, and yet he could not see her nor obtain tidings of her. Dismissing the attendants who waited on him (for he already tasted the luxuries of the Atalantan nobility), he sought and obtained an interview with Melanitis.

“Even now,” he said, “I do not fully know your customs, and in these trying circumstances I may be guilty of a great social mistake; but I entreat you to tell me when this suspense will be over and my wife restored to me, whom I have so long looked upon as dead.”

“I will do all I can to hasten your wishes,” she answered, “for I desire it no less than you do; but there are two things that must come first—the trial of Lydon and his fellow-traitors, and the burial of the honoured dead according to the customs of Atalanta. The trial will be held to-morrow; for the King’s sake it will be hastened, for his health makes Mexitli very anxious, while the burial of the honoured dead will follow very quickly. You will never forget the sight so long as you live.”

“Permit me to render to you my grateful and loving thanks for the act of yours which saved my life. Not even the healing of my sorrow which you have promised to me can efface the recollection that I owe my life to you.”

“Mexitli did just what I did, but her anxiety lest she should do you hurt prevented her from doing it effectually. I had no such fear, because I am more practised. Surely to save a fellow-creature’s life is what any human being would be proud to do.”

Radcliffe stood silent. How could she be more practised in the use of a Karamandran weapon? Was there not also a measure of coldness in her tone? Not to be wondered at, he thought. As he stood hesitating she cut the knot herself.

“I have much to occupy me to-day,” she said, “so you will excuse my detaining you further.”

“Have I given unwitting offence?”

“Not in the least—how could you?”

Radcliffe left the apartment. As he did so, he encountered Frank in very earnest conversation with Mexitli and Mayana. They smiled on him, but he went on to the terrace and walked about wrapped in thought. Cleophon was there, watching the ruins of the tower of the arsenal, and Minya, his sister-in-law, was with him. They greeted Radcliffe warmly, and had a long talk over the recent explosion and the tactics of the rebels which had brought it about. Suddenly two ideas struck Radcliffe all at once, and he said—

“Was any one killed by the explosion?”

“Two of the guards standing as sentries,” answered Cleophon.

“How many prisoners are there in the palace?”

“Lydon and his associates,” replied Minya. “Three men, that is to say. There are no women prisoners. We did all the killing and they did the sinning, and they are, and will yet be, doing the suffering.”

“That is an admirable assortment of parts,” answered Cleophon dryly, “and methinks our excellent friend and colleague is quite satisfied with it.”

“Perfectly satisfied, since there are no ladies imprisoned,” said Radcliffe.

Minya gave utterance to a ringing laugh.

“You will soon be one of us in every thought and feeling,” she said.

In the meantime Abercromby had persuaded Carmichael and the engineer to lay their writing aside and to come for a walk with him. The others agreeing, they went to a sheltered garden attached to the palace on the southern slope of the mount, and Abercromby gave them a startling piece of information.

“I have had a talk with Lydon himself,” he said. “Our interview was hardly amicable, for he cursed me at least a dozen times, but I wormed a state secret out of him, which has led me to advise Mexitli and her intimate friends not to make the approaching trial public, but to try him in the King’s private apartment, with only selected witnesses—ourselves, of course.”

“You are a pretty fellow,” said the engineer; “Mexitli hardly wants coaching up in these medieval ideas. I thought you were an Englishman, but I am afraid your prolonged residence in the Love Star has not improved you.”

“As Lydon is certain to be put to death, it will not make any difference to him.”

“That Mexitli will finish his goose, as the Americans express it, I don’t doubt,” said Carysfort; “but I tell you plainly I do not like this sort of thing.”

“He used violent language and threats that he would say that which would stagger the whole kingdom, and pay Malchon out for all he owed him. Could I do less than tell Mexitli of this? She is not going to stop his tongue, she only wants the man in the street not to hear it, and then pass it on with amplifications.”

“Has his death been settled on beforehand?” grunted the Professor.

“It won’t be nice according to European notions, I am afraid. To be quite candid, however, I have managed to change the manner of it. The princess and Mayana were for giving him a cup of tea, or something equivalent, for his next meal; but Melanitis begged hard that they would postpone their intention, and I joined in with her. Now I have got an idea that she will regret she did not let them have their way. But be this as it may, or rather as it will, I did have just one shudder when Mexitli produced a small phial of amber-coloured liquid and showed it to Mayana. They seemed to be pretty well posted up in the Lucretia Borgia business, and I ventured the remark that I should have to take care how I behaved myself.”

“I agree with you,” said Carysfort, “and I hope it may have the effect of making you reconsider a recent decision. What did they say?”

“That it was for reptiles like Lydon to fear them, not for loyal hearts and true like me.”

“Excellent for the time being,” answered Carmichael, “but what about the years to come?”

At ten a.m. measured by earthly time, Malchon lay upon his sick couch in the private room of his palace, where more secret trials took place. By his side were Mexitli and Melanitis, while Mayana and Minya sat a little way apart. Radcliffe and Abercromby were next to the princesses, while Carmichael and Carysfort were placed nearest to Mayana and Minya.

A very weary look was on the old King’s face; the recent events had sadly undermined his strength. Abercromby, strange to say, seemed the most agitated person in the whole company. Radcliffe was quiet and composed—a trifle bored, in fact. His thoughts were far away.

Presently the tramp of footsteps was heard in the adjacent corridor, and the high priest was led in, his hands tightly bound behind him. Cleito and Arniphon stood on either side of the prisoner. The face of Lydon was agitated by the stormiest passions, but he kept himself well controlled. His tall, majestic figure seemed to exercise a dominating force.

“Mexitli, my daughter, matters are in your hand,” said Malchon. “I can take but a silent part. My days are numbered, and I would fain be at rest.”

The princess turned to Radcliffe.

“You shall indict him,” she said. “His deeds are notorious; you need but say a very few words.”

With a strange mixture of dread foreboding, and yet of dignified responsibility, Radcliffe spoke:—

“Lydon, high priest of Asti, to me has this task been assigned. It is, as the princess truly says, needless to dwell upon it at length. As the minister of a better and purer faith than yours, I will not (lest I should be thought to speak from self-interest) accuse you of idolatry and superstition, though I fear you have made a bad use of the religious influence you have so long exercised. I accuse you the rather of treason against the throne and the royal house of Atalanta, both by machinations in secret, and at last by an open outbreak of rebellion, whereby the King’s declining days have been embittered by strife and bloodshed, and many of his loyal subjects slain.”

“You can now say that in private which you threatened to say in public,” said Mexitli. “You may freely speak, for this is the last time the opportunity will be granted.”

“I understand well the true nature of the words which have been spoken,” answered the high priest; “my heart fails me not, my courage does not shrink. When I have spoken, it is my enemies who will be covered with confusion and with shame, while I shall go to the doom appointed with the knowledge that the Sun God will not fail his servant in the hour of death.

“Malchon, King of Atalanta, if indeed it be a King that thou art, seven years ago you wrestled in prayer for the life of your child Melanitis. You, kneeling in the Sun God’s Temple, didst presume to address another God than He, and didst utter words alike sacrilegious and evil. They were that this God of thine must needs grant thy request, and that thou wouldst be well content, provided only that Melanitis should recover, that she should bring sorrow upon thine own heart, and shame upon thy native land. Thy prayer has been heard, Malchon, and this day thou shalt know to the full what thou hast done.

“She, whom thou dost call Melanitis, is a Karamandran at heart; she careth not for thee, nor for the interests of Atalanta. She is not the Melanitis thou didst love in the days of old, but one as different as these men who come from another world differ from the men and women of thine.”

He paused. Throughout the apartment the silence was intense. Abercromby leaned eagerly forward; a puzzled look crept over the faces of the Professor and Carysfort. Not even yet did Clarence Radcliffe evince excitement or interest—he had heard the story before. Mexitli and Mayana remained impassive and inscrutable; the King folded his weak hands with an air of weary resignation. Melanitis alone had turned very deadly white.

“Courage, child, courage, all is forgiven,” whispered Mexitli.

“I see before me a little house,” pursued Lydon, “in a sheltered bay in Karamandra. The sun is shining upon the sea. In the small guest-room a man and a woman are standing; they are at variance one with another. The woman has ceased to love the man as she did but a few weeks ago, though she had promised to do so for ever. Verily I will be no judge between them!

“I see before me a river with a boat making its way upstream. Two women are in it—both young, both handsome, as beauty is reckoned in their silly world. The face of one is flushed, excited, reckless; she takes the oar, not knowing properly how to use it. Soon a rock appears in mid-stream, there is a crash, the boat is overturned, both are caught in the eddying current. One barely saves her own humdrum life, the other sinks. As the waters pass over her and she is engulfed, her spirit perceives one by her side who bids her follow him to the Mansions of the Blest. Such is not her desire. ‘Clarence! Clarence!’ she cries, ‘I will go to no land where you are not. I would refuse even heaven for you!’ ‘Go, then, where thou shalt one day find him,’ is the solemn answer, ‘and tarry for him a long time, and tarry a still longer time for the home that I would have led thee to. Thou wouldst resist the will of thy Maker and defy His appointed hour; for thy punishment thou shalt do so, and weep bitter tears.’ A rush and a roar seemed to drown all her senses, and when her eyes opened she was a hapless stranger in a strange and wondrous land.

“And now, Clarence Radcliffe, look around and behold thy wife. Thou hast filled Atalanta with thy whimpering complaints, perceiving not that it was thine own folly that set in motion this long train of evils. Behold her, I say, and rejoice, as best thou mayest, in the sight!”

“Why have you torn open a bleeding wound?” said Radcliffe passionately. “Where is the Lilian that I once loved so well, whose memory I cherish still?”

“Turn, fool, turn and see her; she is sufficiently betraying herself,” thundered Lydon. “There stands before you May Lilian Radcliffe, a Karamandran spirit in an Atalantan body!”

Radcliffe advanced a step towards Melanitis; she stretched out her appealing hands, and burst forth in the words of Anglo-Saxon love, which Clarence had sent to her in the world across the sky—

“One dearest vision flashed upon my way,
Kindling the memories of Love’s sacred past;
That vision now is all my strength and stay,
While yet the lingering hours of exile last!”

With a wild cry Radcliffe clasped Melanitis in his arms.

“Behold them!” shouted the deep voice of Lydon; “behold the two serpents of Karamandra! Each has found the other. Each stands prepared to wreck a world that their ill-starred love may riot over its ruins!

“O Malchon, understand the truth even in thy dotage! The child of thine heart was taken from thee seven years ago to dwell with Asti in his palace of solar glory, while into the vacant bodily tenement crept this thing from Karamandra, a cursed gift from a sin-stained planet.”

Carmichael and Carysfort had both risen, but they sank back in their seats with awestruck and blanched faces.

A deep groan burst from the lips of Malchon. His head fell upon the couch. He said not a word.

“Behold thy victory! hireling of a new religion,” Lydon shouted in a voice of ever-increasing bitterness. “Take to thy arms this stranger to thee; see if there be any resemblance in her pale foreign face to the love of the long ago. Ha! ha! A new courtship shalt thou have in this land of ours, and two dialects in which to pursue it.”

Radcliffe found his tongue at last. With one arm encircling Melanitis, he confronted Lydon and waved him imperiously aside.

“Had I found her with all her beauty marred and gone, had I visited her in the deepest dungeon, had I met with her an exile in a desert island, she would be (as indeed she is) the one and only queen of my heart. It is a harder and more severe trial than all these things, to look upon the foreign face, even though it be fairer than the very fairest of my own world. Yet love can rise superior to every hindrance, can overcome every obstacle, else it were vain to talk of immortality. This is how I meet thy difficulties, this is how love prevails over thy logic.”

“Thou hast finely spoken, O man of Karamandra,” jeered Lydon. “Thy rustic wife of old is now a princess, and a throne is a potent solace to the trials of a foreign face.”

“Not when the wife sits upon a throne, and the husband is far beneath; not when she has power and he no power, save only to carry on his mission; not when she is great and he is small.”

“A truce to this peddling matter,” answered Lydon sternly. “Once again I call upon you in the name of Asti my God, to renounce your impious design to change the faith of Atalanta. Do what you will with me, but let not the Sun God shine upon an apostate land.”

“Had I but loved my Saviour as I loved my wife, we might, both at this moment, be fulfilling a lowly divine ministry in our own world; but now we will do the one thing left to us; we will walk hand in hand together, to be a help and a benefit to the world wherein we are.”

“I give you my consent and my blessing,” murmured the King in a broken voice. “God and the Prince of Heaven shall be honoured and adored, and none else. And now, my son Radcliffe, the time will not be long for me. Soon, very soon, I shall go to the land of which He whom we once coldly banished told us, a land where the wicked cease from troubling, and where the weary are at rest.”

“I have one thing more to do,” cried Lydon, in a voice hoarse with rage. “The Sun God has been publicly repudiated here in my presence, and his wrath must now fall upon the blasphemer who has come amongst us. O Asti, strengthen me only this once that I thy unworthy servant may perform one last sacrifice in thy name!”

Bowing forward, with a supreme effort he snapped his bonds, and in a bound was upon Clarence and Melanitis. But Malchon sprang from his couch and interposed his aged body as a shield. Something glittered in Lydon’s hand ere his arm could be arrested in its downward swoop. Malchon fell forward; he uttered one faint cry; they just caught the words, “Let the Prince be King,” and all was over.

“A greater retribution has fallen,” shouted the high priest. “I swore to be avenged. Behold, all of you, the sacrificial knife; see, it is red, red to the hilt. Asti is honoured. Come, therefore—I wait my long-appointed doom; do your worst with me. Asti, I come! I come!”

A sharp report echoed through the room. Lydon fell dead at his victim’s feet. Minola was risen, holding one of the pistols from the Asteroid in her hand.

“He shut up my father in his Temple prison,” she said quietly. “He let him die of starvation, because he would not sacrifice to his idol. I place myself in Queen Mexitli’s hands. I have repaid.”

“You need not be forgiven, dear, for there is nothing to forgive,” answered the Queen elect. “You have only completed the sacrifice. I had meant something appallingly worse for him, but I thank you for having made it unnecessary.”

Then she knelt down by her father’s side, and the tears fell fast. Presently she looked up and said—

“Go, my friends, and take rest after all these horrors. You have nothing but a true friend in me. Cleito! Arniphon! take the body of that traitor and hurl it over the parapet of the terrace!”

CHAPTER XXV
THE OLD LOVE AND THE NEW

No words can adequately describe the emotions that prevailed in the great city when the news flew from mouth to mouth of the assassination of the King, followed by the almost immediate death of the murderer.

Many scores of households were already bewailing their dead and making the usual elaborate preparations to honour their remains. And now the palace itself was drowned in lamentation also, and was face to face in addition with the problem of the succession.

The latter point was very quickly settled. Fifty years had to pass before the nobility would have the right to raise one of their own order to the throne. Melanitis instantly wrote out a form of renunciation with her own hand, and placed herself entirely in Mexitli’s power. The latter took her aside, and said, in the presence of Radcliffe and of Abercromby—

“Since you have so honourably kept your faith to me which you pledged two years ago, my first act as Queen shall be to associate you with me in the sovereignty.”

“That I am firmly resolved to refuse,” she answered. “I pray that your cousin Mayana be raised to the first place below the throne. Also that Clarence may be retained in the rank of nobility along with his comrades. All I ask for myself and for him further is, that you will permit us to live in some retired spot where it will be easy for us to devote ourselves to the work we desire to do.”

“You shall rule the island of Melandria for me, as Andron’s term of office expires with my father’s death. You will not disappoint me in this, will you, Melanitis?”

“You are more than good to me,” she answered, “and if you desire it, I will undertake this work.”

“Now that I understand everything,” Mayana interposed, taking the hand of Melanitis, “I honour you as I never honoured you before, and I sympathise with you in those awful years of trial amongst us which you have so bravely spent.”

“And you, Clarence,” said the Queen, “though you can have no direct power in the ruling of this land, will find your happiness in the love of your wife, in the fulfilment of your mission, and in the knowledge of the love which we all bear to you, for you are devoting your life to the good of your adopted country. You also, Abercromby, will have your share in that love, a share which will increase, as we see that you completely identify yourself with us. As for the other two, it is their fault if their share in our hearts’ affections be much less. To their own world they have decided to return, and it is doubtless well, for to it they evidently belong. I shall have a serious talk with them when the fitting time arrives. Meanwhile, you will all remain in the palace with us.”

Melanitis and Clarence spent most of that day together. Their happiness was too great to be expressed in words. They sat in one of the recesses of the palace gardens looking towards the south, and each told the other what they had suffered in the long time of separation.

“We will talk always in the dear English tongue, Clarence, when we are together. Atalantan has been to me a painfully acquired dialect. I do not speak it very much better than you.”

“When did you first hear of our coming, dearest?”

“I was standing on the palace terrace, and I saw the rockets soar into the sky. I knew it was something most unusual, and I myself urged Mayana and Cleophon (who were then visiting the palace) to go and investigate. The moment they brought back the report of their interview, I was certain, but,” she said with a shudder, “you were all of you close to death.”

“I felt sure of it at the time, dearest.”

“Mayana has often told me since that she can never bear to think about it. But is it possible that no suspicion of the truth about me ever reached you from any one?”

“Never, Melanitis.”

“You must drop that detestable name. I am Lilian. But how did you explain to yourself what Abercromby could have meant?”

“By the pure miraculous power of God raising you from the dead.”

“Ah! Well, of course, that would account. And yet it was something not far short of it.”

Then she asked Clarence to tell her all about his work after he had returned to Oxford, and all about the Professor and his companions.

“The most trying part of it to me was when you and your people talked away in my presence, not knowing that I could understand you. Little did you know how much I agreed with many outspoken criticisms, though they were sometimes not very politely expressed. But that song about the proctor, and your Atalantising of it, nearly did for me altogether, and then—Tom’s letter!”

“There is one thing I greatly desire to ask you. Was it true, as Parmenton asserted, that you in any way supported them in their designs upon the existing social order? He actually advised me to throw in my lot with you, and said that you were a Karamandran woman at heart. Could it have possibly been that he suspected the truth?”

“Quite impossible. He only took advantage of some words which he once heard me say in the presence of Lydon, that I did not greatly admire the way in which the women ruled everything here. But, of course, I have the right of my sex to change my mind upon this or any other subject. Certainly, now that you have come, I must break altogether with any such ideas.”

“I never ruled you in the other world,” chuckled he, “so I am scarcely likely ever to attempt doing it in this.”

“Perhaps you never went the right way to work. You were sadly wanting in tact; but you have made amends here, at all events, when you saved yourself and the others from an almost certain death on the day of the trial.”

“What will be done with Medon and Parmenton?”

“Don’t ask me, Clarence. They will drop out. There will be no trial. Better would it be for them if I served them as I did Mauro Katakalon. You know that I saved the wretch Lydon himself, and how he requited it.”

Radcliffe shuddered. “I do not like these things.”

“Nor do I, though I cannot now see everything through terrestrial spectacles.”

“Did you know that Lydon was going to betray your secret?”

“Not till the last moment. You and Frank were very wise in urging a private trial.”

“I only did it because I fell in with his opinion; I did not know what was going to happen. But I am troubled about another matter. Can Clieto and Arniphon be depended on not to tell Lydon’s story broadcast?”

“I shall leave that with the Queen; she will do what she thinks best for us. Do not be hard upon Mexitli or Mayana, or any others. There is much that ought to be corrected, but we must give them the fuller form of their own ancient faith, and that will work a change in many things.”

“What was your feeling towards the King?”

“Grief and regret. But I was quite powerless to act; it would have killed him to have learned the truth from me, even if he had believed it. Mexitli must have bitterly hated the true Melanitis; but she gradually awoke to the fact that, whatever change had passed over me, it was sufficient to render me her passive instrument, and not her rival. Little by little her enmity turned to affection, and then when you came, though I had certain risks to run, I felt that I might some day tell her everything. On that night when you sang ‘Solitude,’ I betrayed myself so openly that Abercromby, who had already suspected the truth—for I knew he did by many little things—came to me and taxed me directly with it. Then I told Mexitli and Mayana. The Queen believed it; her cousin did not. Of course, the Queen saw in a moment that her succession to the throne was secured beyond hesitation; and so we all made a firm alliance, and I myself told Abercromby to pave the way towards your enlightenment. Now I think I have told you everything.”

“What effect has your experience had upon the truth of the theory of re-incarnation?”

“Don’t trouble your dear head about that. One instance does not make a rule, especially when we can see, as here, such evident meaning and reason for it. It had not to do with the earth, but with Venus. I was not reborn, but conscious from the first of what had happened. Better, in one sense, had I not been, for no one knows, nor ever will know, but I who have gone through it, what it has cost me to be such an incarnated impostor. My journeys to Aptaura, etc., were not much dictated by love of astronomy, nor even for the sake of seeing the ‘Little Queen of the Night,’ about which there was not much to learn from those wise men, or from their instruments, but chiefly to get away from people and talk English to myself, lest I should forget it entirely by the time you came.”

“Was the real Melanitis older or younger than you when your change came.”

“Older by some years, Clarence, but not very many.”

“God help me,” said Radcliffe; “I hoped that it had been otherwise. I had hoped I might have had you a few years longer.”

“You will have me as long as God wills, my dearest. We cannot tell beforehand any of these things; we have a work to do, and we shall be immortal till it is done.”

“And afterwards,” he said.

“Yes, afterwards, in the Mansions of the Blest. You were very fond of that expression; it is curious that you pitched upon the favourite phrase of Venus—‘Antillie—intânie.’”

That evening the Professor and Carysfort had a long conversation over the things which the lovers had been discussing, though in a different form.

“I perfectly believe all I have heard, Carysfort,” he said; “I do not trouble over a magical key, if it perfectly fits a magical lock.”

“Then you go in for stark miracles and supernaturalism, Carmichael,” said the engineer.

“No, my friend, I, in this case, go in for unknown law, unknown factors, unknown powers. Whether they are miraculous or not, requires me to know vastly more about them than I am likely to, on this side of the border. It is much more important to know whether a fact is true, than to know whether it is supernatural. I know this is true, for it clears up everything that has puzzled us from the first; on just the same principle, I accept the resurrection of Christ, because I cannot account for what happened afterwards except on such a ground.”

In the meantime, the King’s last wish that a search should be made for poor Tom had been carried out. He was searched for all over the city and the district, but no trace of him could anywhere be discovered. Meanwhile the agitation in Atalanta continued to increase, and at last a party of loyalists, more ardent than discreet, landed on the island from an airship, and proclaimed the Queen from the terraces of the Temple.

They had found no one there, but Mexitli was not satisfied. She blamed them for going without a sufficient force, but she promised that, as soon as the King’s embalming had been completed, and that of the other illustrious dead, the Temple should be thoroughly overhauled and taken possession of in her name.

Abercromby ventured to ask the Queen as to what ceremonies would be performed at her coronation. She did not quite understand him, and accordingly he and Radcliffe gave her an account of the coronation of Queen Victoria and the ceremonies in Westminster Abbey. Her answer was that that lady was only a queen of one small country, and doubtless had many enemies who needed to be convinced that she was a true monarch; but that when a sovereign governed an entire world, it only led to gossip and cavilling to have any ceremonies at all.

“I put a star in my coronet,” she said, “and simply issue my orders, and that is all that is needed. Everybody understands; to disobey is to die. Medon and Parmenton have just found this out.”

Two days later, Abercromby said to Radcliffe: “Where in the world are Cleito and Arniphon? I have missed them entirely. Have you a guess on the subject?”

“Perhaps I have,” said Radcliffe. “Cleophon is installed in the one post, and Andron, when he comes from Melandria, is to have the other appointment. But it beats me entirely where the others are.”

Radcliffe happened to mention this to the Professor, who said shortly, “They are going to the earth with us in order to tell our terrestrial people what has happened to Mrs. Radcliffe.”

“Are you joking, or is this really serious, Professor?”

“Really serious for them, and an abominable nuisance for us.”

“Have you to take them in the Asteroid?”

“Yes; I suppose it will be like the Indians whom Columbus took back with him to Spain, an advantage to prove that we are not impostors.”

“But who the deuce contrived it?” asked Abercromby, “and what does it mean?”

“Well, they were determined to tell their story on Venus, and Mexitli thought it would make less commotion if they told it on the earth.”

“Where are they now?”

“In gaol, poor beggars,” said Carysfort, “stewing in their own juice.”

Abercromby burst out into a roar of laughter. “Well done, Mexitli! Catch a woman asleep indeed! I’m precious glad for Radcliffe’s sake and Lilian’s. Now their coast will be clear. Is not the Queen a duck?”

“She is a beast,” retorted Carmichael. “Why should she cast her rascals on us?”

CHAPTER XXVI
THE FAREWELL OF AMALONA

The hour arrived which every heart in Atalanta city had been awaiting with expectant sorrow—the hour when King Malchon and many hundreds of his people were to be carried to the Land of the Dead, beyond the Vale of Meloria, and there laid to rest under the shadows cast by a great amphitheatre of hills.

Every house had brought forth its embalmed and elaborately preserved relic of mortality, and these were laid upon litters six abreast, each borne by four bearers in the open promenade between the Lake and the Avenue of Ascent. Each group was escorted by the members of the several houses to which the dead respectively belonged, while, in the intervals between each, bands of minstrels played melodies of plaintive pathos, or sang elegies commemorating the good deeds of the departed.

Down the palace avenue moved the procession of the royal mourners. All walked on foot, the Queen and Mayana in their robes of violet—the Atalantan mourning hue—with all ornaments and coronets laid aside.

Melanitis and Clarence walked together, for, in the eyes of the people, they were regarded as betrothed. Cleophon and Minya came next, while Abercromby, who had just donned the costume of Atalanta, walked sometimes with Cleophon, sometimes with the Professor and the engineer. The latter were of course in English clothes, feeling rather awkward and uncomfortable, while Abercromby said he felt like a dog running about between two planets.

The procession itself comprised a large part of the population of Atalanta. There were consequently not many spectators, for none who sympathised in their hearts with the priestly faction would have dared to show themselves.

Every few hundred yards they stopped and pronounced words in honour of the dead.

A winding road had been constructed leading to the Pass of Amalona—the Bridge of the Tear, as it was called. This was five miles from the eastern end of the great city, the road turning from the shoulder of the Lake just where one of its two rivers flowed into it.

The ascent of Amalona was severely trying; the sun of Venus looked down upon them.

Radcliffe sank in a dead faint, but the Queen and Mayana revived him by a few drops of a pale blue liquid, the best known remedy for solar attacks. He then plodded on with grim earnestness. Melanitis watched him in keen anxiety. Several times the terrestrials were allowed to halt and take rest.

At last the head of the Pass was gained, the hills receded into an amphitheatre, covered as far as the eye could reach with monuments of blue, pink, and purple stone. All were of one shape, an oval recess, in which the embalmed body was carefully laid, beneath an overarching canopy of metal and glass, which permitted the face to be seen.

At the head of the Pass the royal party halted beside the effigy of Malchon. All the niches had been prepared beforehand, and nothing more was necessary than to place the embalmed bodies in the recesses made ready for them. On a vast pile of rock, about a quarter of a mile away, lay gigantic mounds (as they appeared) ranged in pyramidal form.

At a signal from the Queen, Mayana came forward, and, pointing in the direction of these distant objects, said—

“What is to be done with the dead who are not honoured but dishonoured?”

“Let them be consumed out of sight,” answered Mexitli.

Mayana raised the green metal tube in her hand, and pointed it in the direction of the heaped-up plateau. Several flashes followed, and instantly sheets of flame burst from the mounds, spreading sunwards in a canopy of fire. The cremating process, under such a sun in the full radiance of his light, required but a few minutes. The flames fell, the smoke drifted away, the holocaust was completed.

This weird and awful spectacle was followed by another of solemn impressiveness. The embalmed body of the King was slowly carried down into the peaceful shadow, and the remains laid in the appointed place. Tears filled the eyes of the Queen and Mayana; the Queen leaned heavily on Radcliffe’s arm, and then she said—

“From the place where we stand, a voice of average power would reach to most parts of the amphitheatre. You may address a word of consolation to us, if you are so minded.”

Radcliffe was very pale, but he stepped forward, and facing the assembly of the living and the vaster assembly of the dead, he began—

“Dwellers in the flowery land, we are here to-day to honour the memory of a King who loved his people, and who fell a martyr to his duty, even as his ancestor King Keraunion did in the days of old. His last words were these: ‘Make the Prince King.’ Will you obey the dying message of your monarch? You will perceive of whom he was speaking. Not of a competitor to our Queen’s throne, not of any ordinary mortal, but of the Divine Exile whom we, of Atalanta, served so ill in the days of the long ago. By the permission and help of the royal house, by the earnest wish of the martyr monarch himself, the Princess Melanitis and I are resolved to do what in us lies to publish to the Atalantan people the full contents of that message of peace which the Prince came to proclaim to the twin-worlds of Atalanta and of Karamandra. Lo! the way to the Mansions of the Blest is now obscure and uncertain, but the message which the Prince gave is clear and full of light. It shall be placed within the reach of all in the Queen’s empire, which is this world, who are ready to hear it; and then the Bridge of the Tear will become a portal and a pathway to a home in the Mansions of the Blest, where death can never make an inroad, and where, as the God of Heaven has promised—all tears shall be wiped from off all faces.”

“Father most beloved! King most untiring for the people’s good! I bid you farewell,” said Mexitli, adding, “This is the most hopeful day that ever a sad heart beheld on the Bridge of the Tear.”

Mayana advanced with the heart-shaped instrument—the antilla; she struck a few tuneful notes, and then the whole assembled throng commenced the indescribably touching and awe-inspiring chant—

THE FAREWELL OF AMALONA

I

Why have we come from the city bright?

Why have we toiled ’neath the torrid light?

Why have we climbed the irksome hill,

Leaving the bower and the cool sweet rill?

This is the last that our love can do

For the hearts that we honour as loyal and true.

II

What are our hopes on this tearful day?

Trembling and weak, for a sad heart’s stay.

How can they rise from this death-strewn vale?

Or snatch from the skies an enlightening tale?

Yet poor as they are, like the shadows that fly,

We will cleave to them, cling to them, till we die!

III

What is the grief that rules our heart?

’Tis the cry of the world that will bid us depart.

Fain would we linger and fain would we stay,
’Tis duty, not pleasure that calls us away.
Soon we must enter life’s tumult again,

Let the smile on the face hide the grief and the pain.

IV

Why do we gaze on the future unknown?

Or look to the past for the joys that have flown?

One is all drear with you gone from our side,

One is all sad with Time’s onsweeping tide.

Only the Present lies full in our power,

Guarding each brief opportunity’s hour.

V

Can it be true that in days gone by
The Prince came down from His throne on high,
Amongst us the banner of love unfurled,
And laboured in vain for our new-born world?

That we gave Him scant welcome and bade Him depart?

That this is the problem of each aching heart?

VI

Why have the years and the centuries sped

O’er the world of the living, the vale of the dead?

Vainly we turn to the silent skies

To seek a response to our sympathies.

Whether sun shall illumine, or rain mist fall,

What answer comes down to each questioning call?

VII

All through the darkness that broods from afar

Our frail human love shines, a twinkling star;

Often and often ’tis quenched in night,
Ever it struggles towards hope and light;
Age after age it sends forth its sad cry,
“Give me my sure immortality.”

VIII

Ye honoured dead, farewell! farewell! We greet you

In trembling hope that we shall one day meet you!

As the last notes died away the whole multitude bowed with their faces to the ground; then, rising, they lifted up their hands, and the cry, “Farewell! farewell!” rang out in its long echoes to the furthest recesses of the hills.

CHAPTER XXVII
THE SACRED MANUSCRIPT AND THE PRICE PAID FOR IT

Both the Professor and the engineer, although they were hardy men—the latter especially—were completely knocked up by the physical ordeal through which they had passed. They regretted that they had not adopted the native dress, for that would have helped them not a little. In fact, they had a very narrow escape of a serious illness. Several of the Atalantans themselves were stricken. Radcliffe and Melanitis had each to nurse the other. Abercromby went about much as usual, owing to his being so brimful of dash and energy. He was followed by rather amused smiles from many, who were quite strangers to such un-Atalantan activities.

One day he broke in, somewhat unceremoniously, upon the Queen and the Princess Mayana, who were sitting, or rather reclining, propped up upon their couches, talking over state affairs at considerable intervals and pauses.

“I want your royal leave to land on the priest’s island,” he said, “and to explore the Temple and its treasures. Radcliffe is most anxious to know if any documents of a religious character are hidden away there.”

“What does he expect to find?” asked Mayana.

Abercromby felt some difficulty in stating the case; then he said, “He thinks it possible that the late King’s information which he gave to him may have been based upon an actual writing of those who were disciples of Christ or even of Christ Himself.”

“This is incredible,” answered the Queen. “I am aware my father thought that so it might be, but I think he was grossly deceived by those who are now proved to have been traitors and rebels.”

“Lydon paid a visit to our house and repeated a story to that effect,” replied Abercromby.

“Well, do you believe he spoke the truth?” answered the Queen. “If he did, it was probably on the only occasion in his life.”

Mayana laughed. “It was a mere bait held out to kidnap you.”

“My own opinion entirely,” replied the Queen. “Now as to your wish, I am ready to grant it, but I would urge you to be wise. Whatever you discover you must bring to me that I may see it first, as is but just, and you must take great care that you go with a force to protect you. There has been no sign of life upon the island, but some survivors of the rebels may be in lurking.”

“Smoke has been seen rising from the Temple,” put in Minola, who was reading on a low seat by the Queen’s side in close attendance upon her.

“All the more reason to put it out at once,” said Abercromby.

“Well, you may try,” said the Queen, smiling, “but be very cautious for your own sake as well as for ours. Radcliffe and Melanitis may go too, but you must take several of the palace guards, well armed. Cleophon will see to this.”

“I pray of you to allow me to go,” put in Minola.

“If you wish to, dear,” replied the Queen; “but be careful all of you. It will be one of the queerest enterprises you ever sought to carry out.”

The Professor and Carysfort were almost equally interested in the adventure, and they obtained permission to take part in it.

The next day the whole party left the palace after the noontide meal. They were carried in palanquins down the Avenue of Ascent to the Lake side, where they found six guards told off to accompany them under the command of Cleophon. The guards carried their swords, but Melanitis and Minola had each the tube of green metal. They had to proceed a short distance to the landing-stage, where a sort of pier projected out several hundreds of yards into the Lake. At the end of this embanked causeway a large punt-shaped boat was in readiness sufficient to embark the entire party.

In the sky, just over the island, hovered two airships sent by the Queen, whose pilots were ordered to keep close in touch with them, so as to be able to intervene in case of any emergency.

They were more than an hour reaching the island, though the rowers were experts at the oar. The island was about a mile in circumference, planted with groves of noble trees of pale pink foliage for the most part, here and there variegated with patches of light green. In the centre rose the Temple—massive, square-shaped, with its four minaret towers at the corners, and a shrine of rich decorative art and brilliant colouring in the centre.

Minola, as the Queen’s personal representative, was bidden to land first; the others followed. The guards ranged up on the pebbly shore. The rowers were directed to remain by the boat, which was firmly secured to a metallic pillar fixed in the ground.

They saw no trace of life; all seemed perfectly still. The heat was great, but not overpowering, as a light mist somewhat draped the face of the sun.

Melanitis counselled that before approaching the Temple they should explore the wood. She and Clarence entered the shady grove and went across the island by a well-defined beaten track till they reached the opposite shore, from whence a fine view could be obtained of the Keraunian hills. He told her of how he had first seen through the mist the outlines of the Temple and the towers of the city, and how the anxious consultation had been held which had led to the signalling by the rockets. She remarked that, under the actual circumstances, it was the best thing they could have done, for, had they come direct to the city, certain and swift death would have awaited them.

“Where are all the others?” said she, turning round. “They will think we have accidentally run away.”

“No; we have run away by design, not by accident,” replied Clarence. “We can tell the truth, as they are not here to listen.”

“Well, that is nice. I see you are the same naughty boy that you were on the earth.”

Clarence had no time to rebut the accusation, for a sudden cry was heard, and Abercromby was seen running towards them, white as a ghost.

“What is the matter?” said Radcliffe, alarmed.

“I have just roused up some inmates of old Lydon’s menagerie. There is a cave of huge serpents hard by here, and they have made me run for my life.”

Melanitis drew her green tube and held it in readiness. A minute later voices were heard, and Carysfort and the Professor came in sight. They stopped aghast, for a sinuous and silvery form, with huge convolutions, detached itself from a large tree and confronted them, uttering piercing hissings that more resembled sobbing cries. Melanitis and Minola, who had hastened to rejoin her, discharged the lightning fluid full in the face of the monster, which collapsed in a heap upon the ground.

“This is the first serpent we have seen in Venus,” said the Professor. “I wonder if it be poisonous.”

“They are very rare,” replied Minola, “only dwelling in the wildest parts of the continent to the north and the east of the city. This has been brought here for a purpose.”

“Something ghastly, I expect,” said the Professor.

“I think so,” answered Minola.

Cleophon and the guards now came up. They had seen two other similar reptiles, but of smaller size, and their weapons and numbers had soon scared them into the thicket.

Under these circumstances they decided to leave the woods and to ascend the steps of the Temple. This they did, and found the gilded door which gave entrance to the great courtyard. No sooner had they entered than they stopped in astonished surprise.

A priest of the Sun, in his gaudy robes, was standing in front of the altar, from whence the smoke of a recent sacrifice was ascending. His tall, gaunt form exhibited no sign of fear. Slowly his gaze travelled round the whole group, but the result was only a flush of deepening hatred upon his face.

“In the Queen’s name, I bid you surrender and throw yourself upon the royal clemency,” said Radcliffe, stepping forward.

“Be careful, Clarence, be careful,” said Melanitis appealingly.

Another step she was by his side, her arm outstretched with levelled weapon towards the foe, who broke into a taunting laugh.

“Asti shall yet be avenged on you and yours,” he cried. “You have slain the high priest by entrapping him, and after a pretended trial, which you dared not hold in the light of day, you have murdered him in cold blood, because he accidentally slew the incapable monarch who was the slave of his own children.”

“This is Talmon, he who put my father to the torture,” cried Minola. “Your day has come, as it came just now to your chief.”

She pointed her green tube.

“A moment,” interposed Cleophon, arresting Minola’s hand. “Do you admit or deny the charge, fellow? Was it through you that the brave Marcon perished?”

Not a word did the priest say. The sudden accusation of Minola paralysed him.

In an instant the deed was done.

All opposition seemed to have ended with the fate of Asti’s solitary worshipper. The party, entering the inner shrine, found it quite empty and deserted. There was a circular aperture in the roof to let the sacrificial fumes ascend, and a huge silver-coloured altar beneath.

“Have animal sacrifices ever been offered here?” asked Carmichael.

“They have,” said Minola.

“Anything worse?”

“God knows; there was nothing that Lydon might not do,” she answered.

Melanitis had been examining some mural paintings upon the northern wall, when she all at once stopped and stood perfectly rigid.

“Come here, all of you,” she said in both English and Atalantan.

They hastened towards her. “Put your ear to the wall, Clarence; do you not hear somebody calling?”

Radcliffe did so. “Good heavens! it is an English voice,” he cried. “It is saying, ‘Help me! help me! for Christ’s sake!’”

“So it is,” Abercromby almost shouted, “and I know whose it is, by George! It’s Tom, as I’m a living man!”

Carmichael began to shout, “Tom! Tom! steady, Tom; we are coming to save you!”

“Buck up, old man! Where are you?” sang out Abercromby.

Melanitis pointed out to them that their best chance was to go outside the shrine of the Temple and search for some underground passage.

“My lady,” said Minola, “I must best know the secret ways of these reptiles. I have been dragged here and almost done to death.”

“We put ourselves in your hands, dear,” said Melanitis.

Minola struck one of the panels of the walls after taking a careful note of it. The panel flew back and disclosed a winding stairway.

“Be very careful, my lords, all of you,” said Minola. “Follow me—I will descend first.”

The brave girl went in front, the others followed. About twenty steps revealed a dark passage with a glimmering of light at the end. Entering this they heard the cries much plainer.

“Christ save me! Let me see a face of man before I die.”

Carmichael dashed forward; he turned a corner, the passage opened into a little room, with a slit for window and for ventilation, and a stone floor.

On the floor, his hands and feet closely fettered, his face emaciated from hunger and thirst, lay a prisoner. It was Jackson.

The moment he saw them he made a violent effort to rise, but it proved hopeless; his head and limbs fell back. But a smile was upon his honest though tortured face as he turned towards his master.

“Well, Tom, old fellow, what have these devils been doing to you? We never imagined you were here. The last of them has been killed; you will be free in a few minutes.”

“Aye, I shall be free, sir, but not as you think,” said Tom. “I’m going home, I am. The priests—they tried to make me give my Saviour up and worship their pagan idols instead—told them I’d die first. Then they played all their conjuring tricks on me, and they have done it by now.”

Melanitis knelt down by his side and laid his poor head upon her arm. “We hope to save you yet, Tom; but if not, you know the way home, don’t you, my poor fellow?”

“Ay, if I had to walk it! I’d be a sight of years over it, and miss the harbour lights at the last, but Christ will just send a chariot to fetch me. He has done it all. It’s not my love to Him, it’s His love to me—that’s what they used to tell me over at the Methodist chapel I had got to lean on. But,” he went on with a puzzled look, “how do you come to speak English, Miss Melanitis?”

“I have learned it, Tom, a good long time.”

“Then you must have heard me a-cussin’ and a-swearin’ pretty often, miss—and at your people, too. I have been a bad dog, miss, and in two worlds; but I have asked the Lord to forgive me, and I know He will, because He says so. ‘Whosoever’ is a big word, and it takes in me, you, and anybody else, miss.”

Melanitis drew from her pocket a tiny phial and placed it to his lips. In a moment his vital powers flickered up.

“I’d be singing you all the Glory Song if I was strong enough,” he said. “I heard Torrey and Alexander do it when I was in Birmingham. It was my old mother who converted me though. She lived at Elton, and when I drove over Mr. Radcliffe to a meetin’ at the Rectory, I went to have a cup of tea at the cottage. ‘Tom,’ she used to say, ‘I’m soon going, my boy, but I’ll be there to meet you; promise me that you will be coming. You won’t disappoint me, Tom?’ Now I’m going to her, Miss Melanitis, and I wishes Mr. Radcliffe and you all the blessin’ the Lord can give you.”

Minola kneeled down and gently placed another Atalantan cordial to his lips. But this time there was no hopeful result.

“He is dying,” said Radcliffe. “You are a martyr, Tom, and you are going to be crowned.”

“It’s Christ and my old mother I want to see, sir. I’m not good enough for crowns.”

He stretched out his lacerated hands to Carmichael. “Good-bye, best master I ever had except Jesus. You must all come—I want to see you all up yonder. They told me—Methodist chapel—not my love to Him—but—but, His love to me, that will carry all the way. Mother! mother! your happy son!” And he yielded up his last breath like a child going to sleep.

Professor Carmichael, the tears trickling down his cheeks, rose up and said to Cleophon, “Will you intercede for me to Queen Mexitli, that the dead body of this my friend and comrade may be embalmed and lie beneath the Pass of Amalona?”

“It shall be honoured as though it were one of our own illustrious dead,” said Cleophon. “Mayana, my wife, will have more than enough influence to procure this.”

The guards were summoned, and the dead body was placed upon a hastily improvised litter and carried down the Temple steps to the boat. Just as they reached it, a piece of paper dropped from the pocket of poor Tom’s waistcoat.

Radcliffe snatched up the paper, and at once cried out, “I must return to the Temple; there are documents after all.”

He handed the scrap (which was crumpled and very hard to decipher) to Carmichael, who read out these words: “If any of you come to find me, remove green flagstone under altar. Lydon has hidden papers there—the devil will do you some mischief there, be careful, go armed—Tom.”

Carmichael read this again very carefully, and explained it to the Atalantans as well as he could. All agreed that they must undertake the search in united force, except that the rowers must be left to guard Tom’s remains in the boat, lest any further outrage should be attempted.

Melanitis suggested that they should proceed at once to forcibly remove the altar, which work did not detain them as long to accomplish as they had expected.

The lifting up of the great stone, however, required the labours of nearly the whole party. Below was a cavernous recess. Minola lighted a small lamp, and held in her other hand her deadly weapon. There were about a dozen rough steps to the bottom, but they were protected by a small handrail.

Clarence, despite the warnings of Melanitis, went down first. No sooner had he reached the floor than they all uttered a cry, which was at once followed by a fierce roar and the sound of a desperate scuffle. Pinning him against the damp wall was a beast of large size, standing upright, tearing at his shoulders with its claws.

Minola dared not fire at such close quarters with the lightning fluid; it would have meant almost certain death to Radcliffe as well. Melanitis had one of the Asteroid pistols, and this she discharged. The bullet wounded the animal severely, but did not actually kill it. It rolled upon the floor, dragging Radcliffe down with it in its fall. All that she could do was to wait while the combatants wrestled, until the beast was uppermost, and could present a target. With a desperate effort Radcliffe succeeded, by grasping its neck, in beating the creature back from his face, and then Melanitis got in her second shot with the other undischarged barrel. This struck the creature in the head; it bounded back and fell lifeless.

The Professor and the engineer held their companion in their arms and assisted him to rise. His dress was torn almost to tatters, and he had been lacerated in both shoulders by the creature’s talons. He could only, with great pain and difficulty, make them understand that he had seen a small metallic case in a recess by the wall, in the attempt to reach which the beast had leaped upon him.

It was a sad party that made their way to the boat with the dead body of poor Jackson and the wounded form of Radcliffe. Minola carefully examined the wounds, and gave assurance that they were not dangerous; but they were troublesome, and would disable him for a little time.

Melanitis tended him with the most loving care. They were all glad to find themselves safe in the shelter and amid the comforts of the palace.

CHAPTER XXVIII
THE MESSAGE FROM THE OBSERVATORY

The Queen listened with deep interest to the account which the party gave her of their sad adventures in the island. She acceded at once to the Professor’s wishes with regard to the burial of his faithful servant. Five days later the embalmed body of Tom was conveyed to the amphitheatre below the Pass of Amalona, and was laid there to rest amid the grief and regret of all the members of the palace. The Queen had a monument in the English style erected over him, and words of esteem and affection were inscribed in both languages.

The English part of the inscription ran thus:—

To the Memory of Thomas Jackson,
Faithful servant to the great
Terrestrial Expedition of the
Twentieth Christian Century.

He suffered martyrdom in the heathen temple for refusing to offer sacrifice on the altar of the Sun God.

“To him that overcometh
A crown of life shall be;
He with the King of Glory
Shall reign eternally.”

The verse was repeated in Atalantan poetry, written by the Queen herself.

Abercromby asked that the Temple might be destroyed, while Radcliffe wished it to be converted into the first building for definite Christian worship in Atalanta.

Mayana urged, however, that, as a standing monument of rebellion and of treason, it ought to be burned to the ground. The four towers were spared for their artistic beauty. On the site of the Temple itself it was decided to erect a palace for the Queen and her colleague, while Mexitli gave Radcliffe permission to have a building erected in the upper part of the city for Christian worship and teaching as soon as matters were ripe for so decisive a step.

One day, shortly after his recovery, Minola was standing on the upper parapet of the terrace, looking fixedly at the blackened ruins of the Temple. Radcliffe asked her where Marcon had been laid to rest; he had looked for his monument, but had not found it.

“My father has suffered the last outrage which can wound the heart of an Atalantan,” she replied. “After they had put him to death, Lydon had his body cremated upon his idolatrous altar. I wish I could know for certain whether he was actually dead when they cremated him.

“When I was left desolate the Queen took me into her service, and I have had my home with her ever since. My father was a steadfast loyalist, and disdained the overtures that were made to him to win the pretended independence they offered, and that was why he suffered what he did. But I have repaid.” Then she said abruptly, “Would your religion approve my killing Lydon?”

“Your slaying a man who was in the condition of a wild beast, loose among people practically defenceless, was quite blameless. He would have killed Melanitis had you not killed him. Your slaying of Talmon is less excusable, for I am of opinion that the Queen ought to have tried him in the usual way, and he would certainly have been condemned for high treason.”

“The Queen said as much to me. I love the new religion, or, as some call it, the old one, very much, and read your manuscripts as fast as they appear; but I have read far enough to understand that Christ was not only a Saviour but a Master—at least in your world, and I suppose it ought to be so in this. I wonder whether He could so change me as to make it possible for me to cease to hate those men? Perhaps Marcon himself, in the Mansions of the Blest, would wish me to do so.”

The conversation was ended by the appearance of Mayana, who took Radcliffe aside, as she had something of importance to communicate.

“The box has been opened which nearly cost you your life to obtain, and the Queen and I have carefully perused its contents. It contains an ancient scroll (not very legible, I must confess) which simply repeats, in almost identical words, the narrative which King Malchon, who had learned it by heart, evidently related to you. It closes with the parting message of the Prince to our people, while on the other side are some extracts, written by His disciples, two of whose names are given—Calchon and Ixtilon—quoting certain sayings of their Master. These sayings are almost a transcript of those which are found in the book given to your own world, so that we have a strong proof of the authenticity both of them and of yours. He evidently gave to your world certain maxims of truth about God and duty which He had before given to us; and, indeed, if His teaching was divine, as I believe it was, there was no need for originality or change.”

Radcliffe went to the Queen’s apartment, where he found Melanitis turning the sentences into English as the Queen dictated them to her.

“A very few days’ labour will suffice to translate the whole manuscript,” said the Queen. “Let your companions take a translation of it to their own world, and let our own version be circulated all over our empire. I will have the Prince’s last appeal to be engraved on a tablet and set up in a public place, say, on the promenade by the Lake shore, where that hateful procession was paraded.”

It was several days after this that Carmichael and the engineer received an urgent summons to attend upon the Queen in her cabinet room. The time was gone by when such an announcement aroused fear and alarm. They had not a more sincere friend in Atalanta except Melanitis, if indeed she were an exception, for, try as they would, they could hardly conceal a certain feeling of uncanny repulsion when in her presence.

Nevertheless it was with great curiosity that they obeyed a more than usually categorical citation.

When they got in, a select conclave was assembled. Around the canopied throne sat Radcliffe and Melanitis, Abercromby, Cleophon, and Mayana and her younger sister, while Minola was on her usual seat, close beneath the throne, bending over a map of the heavens, which she was intently studying.

“I give you greeting, my friends,” said Mexitli, a little ceremoniously. “A messenger has arrived from the Observatory on Aptaura, informing us, in reply to our recent enquiry, that your world will be in correct alignment with ours on the twentieth day of the month Cayamarca—that is, fifty-five days from now. We notify this to you, as it would be well for you to start on your great journey home five days before that date.”

There was deep silence. Melanitis took Radcliffe’s hand in hers. Abercromby fixed his eyes on the ground a trifle awkwardly. Then Carmichael said—

“Have we permission from your Majesty to depart?”

“Certainly, after you have agreed to certain conditions which we have been carefully considering. Do you still wish to leave us?”

“We have a duty to perform to our brothers whom we have left behind,” said Carmichael.

“Very good; so shall it be. Now these are the conditions: You must give us in writing an exact account of your secret; you must either promise to reveal it to none of your race, or, if you prefer it, you must plainly tell them that it will be certain death for any Karamandran to come to our world as you did, or in any other way. If you yourselves choose to return to us you may do so, but even this on condition only that you thenceforward live amongst us and return no more. This you may do if you desire it, and you shall resume the privileges of nobility which my father gave you.

“These conditions may seem hard, but I have to think for the good of my people. I have asked Clarence to tell me plainly all about his world, promising beforehand that nothing he revealed shall be used to your own injury. Melanitis is now able to confirm all he says, and Abercromby also, and they have told me the whole truth in the minutest particulars. Knowing it, I have decided to cut off for ever all personal communication until God shall otherwise ordain. But I grant you leave to take with you in the Asteroid products of our world of every sort, that your people may benefit by our music, our poetry, our arts, and even our fruits and flowers. In return, you will leave with us all the contents of the Asteroid which are not indispensable for your safety, and you may freely replace them by anything of Atalanta you may wish to bear away.

“Fifty days from now you will set out from the palace, and we will journey with you to Aptaura, from whence you will wing your final flight.”

“We agree to all these conditions fully and faithfully,” answered the Professor and the engineer.

“As to Cleito and Arniphon, it is essential for the happiness of our beloved sister, that, as they have refused to promise silence as to her secret of identity, they must pay the penalty. They have chosen to be more loyal to the late King than he was to himself, and therefore I had decided, with great reluctance, that they must die, though by a painless death of sleep. But Melanitis made a powerful appeal to me, and it seemed more just to take advantage of a position so unique, and to let them go back with you to the earth. They will be good and faithful servants to you, and, furthermore, will absolutely prove to your brother scientists the truth of your history. It will enable me to spare their lives, and yet to help and to benefit you. Of course, I do not force them upon you, but the only alternative must be what I have said.”

“We accept, of course,” said Carmichael. “But there is one question I would ask of your majesty—Will you permit us to make a strong endeavour to induce our brother Abercromby to reconsider his decision?”

“Certainly, make all the effort you can; but I think if two planets have a tussle over him, I know which will be the victor,” said the Queen, smiling.

“You will stay with us, won’t you?” said Minya pleadingly.

“I shall have a bad quarter of an hour with the Professor,” replied Abercromby.

Now that the end was in sight, every one worked with indefatigable industry. The Professor and the engineer were inflexibly resolved to go; it was no use denying that they did not, and never probably would, feel they could make a home in Atalanta. It was not the world for them, nor did the voice of duty call them to put up with it. But they took an immediate resolve to leave behind them a legacy of useful knowledge to the Atalantans; everything—books, instruments, tools, seeds, down to the piano and the chessboard, were made over to the palace and its occupants. Carmichael took the trouble to write a number of short essays on various social and political subjects, while Carysfort explained a great many mechanical and industrial arts.

Meanwhile a religious revolution was beginning to spread over the empire. The New Testament was rapidly finding its way into the homes of the people, though here and there opposition and even hostility were manifested.

The movement was, of course, purely elastic and invertebrate as yet; the time for the setting up of institutions and stated worship had not yet come, and the Professor told Radcliffe that then his troubles would begin. He had better enjoy the literary, poetic, and romantic epoch as long as he could.

The Queen and Mayana did not take an openly active part, but all their influence was thrown into the scale. The only point in which Mexitli was disinclined to show sympathy was the haranguing of the people in open-air assemblies; this was an absolute anomaly in the country, except in days of sedition and revolution.

At last, after several attempts which had not been very successful, Radcliffe yielded to the Queen’s earnestly expressed wishes, all the more readily because she did not enforce them by arbitrary power. Melanitis, moreover, came to the rescue by a very ingenious suggestion. Poetry was constantly sung and recited in the public promenades: why should not the flower of English hymns he turned into Atalantan verse and adapted, sometimes to the music of one world, sometimes to that of another?

This proved a notable success; in every district the idea was acclaimed with enthusiasm. The Queen was so delighted that she promised to take a personal share in the composition of both music and verse.

Thus, to cite but one instance, an ancient hymn to the Sun God was modelled in a new setting:—

Look not to me, but turn to Him who set
My throne above your far extending sky;
He, my Creator, never will forget
To listen to His humblest creature’s cry.

Unseen, He rules the Mansions of the Blest,

The Sun of worlds more glorious and more great,

From whence the Prince came down to give you rest,

And soon will make you heirs of His estate.

Let not the viceroy intercept the King,

Nor yet the creature vaunt an arrogant claim;

Look to the throne from whence all mercies spring,

And seek them in the banished Exile’s Name.

“I tell you what it is, Radcliffe,” said the Professor; “thanks to a marvellous conjuncture of events, you are walking on roses just now in your missionary crusade, but the thorns will come, and will have to come. I don’t know much about these matters, but you are running ahead too fast. I shall not be here to see it, but allow me as a friend, who has a different mission to fulfil, just to observe that if Christ is ever to be King of Atalanta in any sense intelligible at present to me, He will have to be an Atalantan Christ. Let these queer people, who are more after your taste than mine, go their own way and walk in their own customs; let the Queen be the despot she really is, despite all her smiles; let her rulers and workers rule and work for the bodies of their subjects, and do you be satisfied, and your remarkable consort also, with looking after their souls. Don’t touch anything else, stick to doctrines for the present. You had better give them a poetic version of the Athanasian Creed than ask them to substitute crimson for sky-blue, and so on. Don’t think me blasphemous, you will find there is sense in what I say, though I am not an interplanetary parson.”

Carmichael also made one effort, and only one, to induce Abercromby to return with him.

“Radcliffe can do without you, for he has got Melanitis. Melanitis can even more easily do without you, for she has got him. I don’t think you are quite cut out for a missionary, for I believe you would ask the last surviving sun worshipper in Venus why the deuce he wasn’t a Christian. Mexitli doesn’t want you to give her a helping hand in politics, and, if I were you, I would not offer it. Now, Abercromby, just use your imagination for a minute. Can’t you see yourself looking up at the sky and wishing you could get a peep at the old Asteroid? It will be too late then, Abercromby.”

“But, Professor, I’m beastly sorry, as Gilbert Rice said to me when I had to go down, but really—there, it is no use making a fuss. It had better come out. I’ve been and gone and done it.”

“What am I to understand by this?”

“Why, I have popped the question to Mayana’s dear little sister Minya, you know—we are awfully sweet. We shall be up to the level of Melanitis and Clarence if we only try. We mean to. So now I will retort your accusation as to my unclassical language, and ask, ‘Where the deuce do you come in, Professor?’”

“Good-night, Abercromby, I’m off to bed,” said Carmichael.

There were two subjects that greatly interested both the Professor and the Atalantan court. One was the exploration of the eastern side of the continent, the other the far more daring problem of interplanetary communication.

Carmichael and Carysfort went in the Asteroid on their own account on a journey of about 350 miles from the vale of Meloria to the eastern coast-line. So fully were the terrestrials now trusted that they were left to travel by themselves, with the understanding that they would return to Atalanta in a fortnight’s time. Neither Radcliffe nor Abercromby accompanied them, the latter saying that they would have plenty of opportunities for exploring all the habitable parts of Venus.

“That is nonsense,” replied the Professor. “You cannot even wait till my back is turned for beginning your love-making with Minya. Clarence, I admit, has some arrearages to make up.”

Cleito and Arniphon accompanied Carmichael and the engineer, for they were now counted as terrestrials.

The other matter, that of interplanetary signalling, greatly exercised the minds of all the learned in the empire. Andron, the ex-governor of Melandria, who was in constant touch with the recluses on Aptaura, begged that the Queen would allow the travellers to earth to spend a few days in the island. Leave was granted, and it was settled that on the first day of the month Cayamarca the start from the city should be made.

The travellers returned from their eastward explorations. They had found the scenery very rich and beautiful, and they had stayed at several country houses in the first hundred miles of the journey. The coast scenery had been very grand, though they once encountered a severe storm.

CHAPTER XXIX
THE FEAST OF FAREWELL

On the first day of the new Atalantan month a great banquet was held in the hall of the palace which was long remembered in Atalanta and called the Feast of Farewell. All the notables of both the court and the city were present by the Queen’s invitation.

The Queen and the princess-elect, Mayana, sat each upon their throned and canopied couches at the head of the hall, with Melanitis and Radcliffe on the right hand and Abercromby and Minya on the left. Below them the Professor and the engineer occupied the seats reserved for distinguished guests.

Ranged around the hall were the guards and attendants who waited upon the guests, led by Cleophon, who was resplendent in the dress and accoutrements of his new position.

The little tables in front of each, richly inlaid with precious metals and carved with quaint design, were laden with the choicest delicacies of Atalanta and with slender goblets of tinted liquids. Festoons of flowers in every hue sparkled and glistened upon the walls. Panels were slid to and fro to admit streams of radiant sunlight to gild various parts of the banquet-room.

From other parts, usually those that were left in shadow, there came siren strains of the most bewitching music, now rising, now falling, now ascending to a volume of sound, now dying away in a distant harmony. When any speaker rose to speak there was an instant hush. Poetry and song were frequently introduced; on that occasion terrestrial melodies were loudly in demand, particularly those of the more romantic type. Abercromby and Radcliffe had brought some such in the Asteroid for the benefit of the former, as the latter could not play, and had not much capacity as a songster. One was the Invitation Song, and another a religious ballad, “I will give you rest.” Melanitis had turned both of these into Atalantan verse, and they were both sung to a number of instruments, and produced a deep impression upon the audience.

“Love launched a fairy boat” was a song beyond the power of Radcliffe and Melanitis to sing—the memories were too heart-searching for them; but the music was played, and, from the very fact that it was so different from the weird and Oriental-like compositions of Atalanta, it excited the more surprise and interest. The national airs of the different European countries were performed, but these, for the most part, were less popular.

After all this had lasted awhile the Queen rose from her throne and addressed the vast assembly.

“Friends and notables of the Flowery Land, it has been customary from time to time, especially before setting out for our southern progresses, for the princes of Atalanta to gather the chiefs of their people together. Never within the memory of the oldest here present have we had an occasion parallel to this, either by reason of the shadows of the past or the extraordinary circumstances of the present.”

The Queen then detailed the late insurrection, paid a warm tribute to the loyalty which had saved her throne, extolled the goodness and the benevolence of the late King, and asserted her own desire to follow in his steps and to try to do for her people what he had done.

Then she said: “My sister Melanitis has long desired to be relieved of the highest cares of state, and, by her own act of free choice, has besought me to associate her cousin rather than herself in the direct and central rule of our empire. She will, therefore, occupy the less onerous post of ruler of our island of Melandria, by whose people she has for a long time been greatly beloved. Her betrothal to him whom we once called the stranger from Karamandra, but who is now, for the great services which he has rendered to us, enrolled in the highest circle of our nobility, has been recently announced to you, and ere they take up their residence in the island their union by marriage will have been formally ratified by us. It will take place after this assembly has been dispersed, in the presence of the usual chosen witnesses.”

Neither Radcliffe nor Melanitis had been told that matters were quite so imminent, and they exchanged glances. Abercromby managed to slip a piece of paper into Radcliffe’s hand. “Thought I would get all your business over at once, old chap. I fixed it up before the meeting. Don’t turn this into poetry, please!”

“Most earnestly do I desire that the blessing of Heaven may rest upon them,” said the Queen, “and upon their efforts to do my people good. I wish all to know that I publicly sanction these efforts, and that I allow the Christian philosophy to be taught in Atalanta both by speech and writing, with this one exception, that I shall not allow, for some time to come, the holding of assemblies in the promenades and open fields, but only in buildings appointed for the purpose, and, of course, in private dwellings. But this prohibition does not apply to the island unless my sister enforces it there by her own act. The Prince Consort of Melandria (for so will his title be henceforward expressed) will, I am sure, yield an implicit obedience to the one restriction I think good to place upon him.

“The Festival of the Sun is for ever abolished. It may be that in the future some pageant in a Christian form may be sanctioned, but neither I nor he are at all desirous of doing this. I am imposing no faith upon Atalanta, whether old or new. I am in substantial agreement with the Christian religion in most parts wherein it supplements ours, and the Princess Mayana holds the same attitude as myself.

“I think it will be for the good of the people that the new spiritual movement should win its way. Further, you all know that my friend Abercromby has asked my cousin Minya to be his wife. At this also we shall greatly rejoice, and for his services, which have been likewise great, he too shall be counted amongst the highest in the land. As for the three other members of the expedition, the two men who were its actual leaders, being eminent men of science amongst their people, are soon to leave us and to return to their own world, but I will send greeting through them to the ruler of their particular country, the island of Britain, telling him how much I regret that his people are, for the most part, so evil that I cannot permit any direct intercourse between them and my own subjects.

“The servant of the expedition, one Jackson by name, has been cruelly martyred by the priests in the Temple, to my very deep regret, for he was a good man and fought nobly for us in the hour of the great rebellion. He lies beneath the bridge of Amalona, honoured amongst the illustrious dead. He it was who, by his wisdom and sagacity, guided Prince Claretson of Melandria to the place where the sacred manuscript, which will no doubt be added to the terrestrial Bible, was discovered, in the securing of which my sister and the prince had a terrible struggle with a wild beast.

“I have no more to add, notables and friends. For the first time I greet you as your mother and Queen, and my chief regret this day is, that we are so soon to lose two whom we should have been glad to see always with us.”

The banquet was prolonged to a very late hour. Music and song, poetry and recitation, were constantly recurring. There was a short patriotic ode, entitled “The Saluting of the Banner,” which was always sung on state occasions—

Wave the banner high,
Loyal hearts reply,
The throne of Atalanta shall endure;
Aided from above,
Rooted in our love,
What is more triumphantly secure?

In its shelter we rejoice,
And sing with grateful voice
To those whose love protects us every day;
Wide the scarlet banner flings
Its all-protecting wings,

O’er the happy land that owns its peaceful sway.

Before the guests dispersed, little Minya, who had perhaps the sweetest voice in the court circle, sang one of the most touching of the half-romantic, half-religious lyrics of Atalanta, called “Waiting for the Light.”

All the company rose to their feet when the first plaintive notes were struck.

It was a song specially hated by the idolatrous party, but dear to the hearts of others, and now very welcome to the Royalists, both for religious and political reasons:—

Waiting for the light on the distant hills,

Whence we bade farewell to the Traveller unknown,

He who came to tend us and heal us of our ills,

Ere He took His journey, friendless and alone.

Did we understand Him in His lowly guise?

Did our glad hearts open to the wisdom that He taught?

Rather did we wonder in a dull surprise,

Could it be divinity these gracious marvels wrought?

We were always waiting further proof to see,

Closing our proud minds to the proofs already given;

Now we stand all friendless in our agony,

Waiting for a light that can only come from Heaven.

Ages now have sped since the sad and shameful day,

When we drove Him from us with a cold good-bye,

O’er Keraunea’s hills He took His weary way,

Leaving us to mourn and to wander till we die!

Waiting, we are turning questioning eyes to Heaven,

As we stand bewildered in the maze of life.

Shall the hour relieve us when the clouds are riven,

And a heavenly message end our mental strife?

We may seem contented in the Flowery Land,

’Neath the skies all sunlit—never draped in night—

Yet an aching heart tries in vain to understand

Why the ages leave us waiting for the light!

The echoes died away amid a wailing chant which, from every part of the hall, rose, swelled, and faded. In deep silence each guest defiled past the canopied throne, inclined with a deep reverence to the Queen and the princesses, and then left the hall.

“I could not have stood much more of that,” said the engineer. “Never in my life have I had such an experience as this evening. I wonder whether these queer people can be screwed up to put their feelings into real future practice?”

“The dons would have felt rather funny if this had been a Gaudy,” remarked the Professor. “Radcliffe will have all his work well cut out. I should like to take a peep in here, say, ten years hence.”

“Now, my prince, there is one more job in hand to-night before we retire to rest,” said Abercromby. “Step this way and get married, please.”

“Martin Luther wanted one of his friends to attend that he might be sure that he was married after all,” answered Radcliffe. “Which is it with me? I never felt so bewildered in all my life. Anyway, I have got Melanitis.”

“That is the chief thing, my noble prince. The clear air of bracing Melandria will set you right on all side topics. Come along, there is the Queen calling to you. She will be wanting to know what the dickens you are keeping them all waiting for.”

The ceremony was of the simplest kind. They knelt before Mexitli, and she joined their hands together. When they rose up Abercromby said, “My state ceremony will be a little more complicated, but then I shall be doing it for the first time. You have paid all the necessary fees, so now you can skiddadle; there is neither bellringer, clerk, nor parson, except your own august self. Farewell for the present, and be better children than you were at Barmouth.”

The next morning all was astir in the palace. For the last time the Asteroid lay fixed in position upon the terrace square. At the morning meal a feeling of sadness hung over the party, which not even the gay sallies of Abercromby could fully dispel. The Professor and the engineer made short speeches full of good sense and kindly expression. They then took a farewell of the Princess Mayana, who was compelled, from reasons of state business, to remain behind. All the others were to journey with their friends as far as they could.

At ten o’clock by terrestrial time the engines were set going, and the Asteroid winged its aerial flight from Atalanta city. Nearly the whole population had gathered in the streets and promenades, and cheer after cheer of greeting was sent up. In order to please her departing guests, the Queen ordered that a somewhat different route to Melandria should be taken. This time they sped across in a due westerly direction, not veering southwards till they had got to a distance of about fifty miles from the city. Villas and country houses continued to approach and to recede beneath them, and at last, after crossing a line of hills, the waters of the great western ocean came in sight.

The northern end of Melandria could just be observed on the distant horizon, and on a spur of ground that projected some way into the sea they caught sight of a tall building with a graceful tower, several hundred feet in height. At first the Professor and engineer thought it was a lighthouse.

“Nay,” replied Mexitli, “this is a signalling station from whence, by flashes of light, messages are conveyed to and from the Observatory on Aptaura. Most usually, these messages consist of a statement of supplies sent to, or received by, the astronomers, but sometimes news of scientific interest is conveyed. If you all had but only come by way of the southern pole we should have heard of you at once, and then perhaps——”

“We might not have got into so much mischief,” supplied the Professor.

The Queen laughed. “I see your conscience is still sensitive, Carmichael.”

“What are they signalling to us?” cried Minya. “Why I do believe——” she finished the sentence with an exclamation.

“I can read the code,” said Melanitis. “Look! it runs: ‘Why not signal from Aptaura to Karamandra?’”

“A nice suggestion,” said the Queen. “Who has made it, I wonder? Some one who wanted me to receive it in a roundabout way.”

They held on, above the waves which were agitated by a grand swell and current, and soon the heights of the twilight island rose before them, and, an hour later, they had reached the Peak, as it was called, and were in the house of Andron.

“Andron, this is rather hard upon you,” said Melanitis in a kindly tone. “I won’t tell you you are relieved of your post, for who want to be relieved when they love their work? I will tell you instead, that you are to be promoted to another and a higher post at the palace itself.”

“I feel deeply grateful for all the kind recognition which any services of mine rendered to my country have already received,” said Andron; “and the chief thing that gives me pleasure now is to have the honour of inviting you and the prince to remain under my roof till the day when you are formally installed in my place.”

The party were soon partaking of hospitality upon the lawn of the house, with its fine view over the southern sea, and the splendid crescent-shaped esplanade of houses that lined the bay.

Conversation took, as before, a scientific turn, and the ex-governor of Melandria was directly asked by the Professor to state his views as to the possibility of interplanetary signalling. He told him what a stir had been made upon the earth by the mere rumour of a message from Mars, as the supposed outbreak of recent light on that planet had been called.

“We know little about Mars,” answered Andron, “much less than you probably do, which may well be, seeing that we are more than sixty millions of miles from it. I see no reason to think that remote and snowbound planet has, at least now, any inhabitants. But it has always struck me that communication might some day be established between Atalanta and your world, which is sometimes only twenty-four millions of miles apart, only our planet is so awkwardly situated as regards yours that, when we are nearest to you, you can only see us as a thin extended crescent. But, as you before told me, our giant Aptaura can be discerned in your telescopic vision as a tiny sparkling point, due, of course, to the sun’s rays impinging upon its top. I have always thought that a signal might be conveyed to you from us, and if so, as you have learned our language, an alphabet could be constructed.”

“Did you convey a suggestion to me from Aptaura this very morning, Andron?” said the Queen, smiling.

“Yes, he did,” replied Ayacatil; “he was afraid that if he ventured it too directly you would veto him at once.”

“Have you really any suggestions to make?” said the Queen.

“As the sun’s rays strike the peak of Aptaura with almost overwhelming power,” answered Andron, “I cannot see why they might not be focussed in a powerful reflector, and a beam shot skywards in the direction of Karamandra. If they can only see our signal, much will be gained. They might afterwards transmit one of their own from a Karamandran mountain peak, and, though their hills are much smaller, yet their world, appearing as a full circle to us, could more easily be observed by us.”

“But there is something more than this matter which we have been considering,” said Ayacatil. “If, which God forbid, any accident should happen to your machine in space, the whole fruit of your researches would be lost. I advise that your manuscripts be sealed up in a fire-proof cylinder which, in a last extremity, could be thrown out, and it would of necessity fall into the attraction of your world.”

“Admirable!” said Mexitli.

“We have prepared such a contrivance,” answered Andron, “and it will give us much pleasure to present you with it.”

The cylinder was duly inspected, and all agreed that it should be sealed up when they reached Aptaura.

The next two days Clarence and Frank spent largely in the society of the friends they were so soon to lose.

The Queen and Melanitis spent most of their time together, and it was noted by many how serenely happy the princess looked.

And then came the day when the whole party stood upon the mighty mountain peak of Venus. They were facing the cold hemisphere of the south. The green-red star, the “little queen of the night,” shone upon them. Towards it, in a few minutes, the prow of the Asteroid would be turned.

Mexitli held out both her hands to Carmichael and to Carysfort.

“Farewell,” she said; “we met in hostility, we part in friendship. My best wishes for you, for your nation, for the teeming millions of the human races; may they learn to appreciate more and more what their Divine Prince and Saviour has done for them. We are infinitely the better for your sojourning amongst us. You broke our laws at the first only through ignorance, as I now gladly admit, and your conduct since has been irreproachable.”

“May your Majesty enjoy a long and glorious reign,” said the Professor. “May all that the Prince of Melandria and Abercromby carry out here be a blessing both to them and to you. Perhaps it was our fault that we have not enjoyed ourselves from the first as we might have done. Once more I thank you for your kindness. To my dying day I shall never forget Atalanta.”

“Good-bye, Queen,” said Carysfort. “A plain Englishman always has ten times more to say than he knows how to express in words.”

“I understand,” replied Mexitli.

“Tell the Vice-Chancellor,” said Frank, “I think I could pass if I went back to Cambridge now. I know Atalantan if I don’t know much more Greek.”

“Good-bye,” said Radcliffe; “when you happen to run over to Oxford, just give my love to old Prebendary Seaton. I fear I did not visit in his parish quite as much as I should; tell him that I have a large parish now.”

“Good-bye all,” said Melanitis. “My prayers will go with you. When we meet again there will be no parting.” Then she put her hand into Radcliffe’s.

“Good-bye,” said Minya. “Tell the English ladies the names of the four English songs which we like best.”

“Good-bye, Professor and Engineer,” said Abercromby. “I ... there, it’s not a bit of use, I’m stuck.”

“Don’t attempt it, man,” said Carmichael as he entered the Asteroid. “Come along, Carysfort, it’s really time we were off. Here is the MS. cylinder. We won’t forget that. Start the engines.”

POSTSCRIPT
CHAPTER XXX
THE MYSTERY THAT WAS UNSOLVED

I think that it only remains for us—Maurice Sheldon, Fellow of Trinity, and Gilbert Rice, Tutor and Lecturer of the same—to say briefly how we came in possession of the most amazing narrative ever written by man.

We have put it together and carefully compiled it from the manuscripts of our friends—Professor Carmichael, Mr. Frank Abercromby, Mr. John Herbert Carysfort, and the Rev. Clarence Radcliffe, of St. Boniface College, Oxford, and curate of St. Dunstane, then and for some time under Prebendary Seaton.

Mr. Rice and myself, after an unusually hard term of work, took a reading party to Bude, in North Cornwall. They and we had a very enjoyable time in a comfortable farmhouse on the cliffs, a mile out of Bude, in a quiet country district called Upper Lynstone. After the junior members of our party had dispersed, I suggested that a walking tour would make a capital wind-up to a very happy vacation.

We struck camp, therefore, went down the coast to Boscastle and Tintagel, where we explored the wonderfully interesting neighbourhood, and then we trained from Camelford to Wadebridge. We were to make Newquay our objective point, and we started at about two o’clock from our hotel at Wadebridge, having had our luggage sent on to the Headland Hotel at Newquay.

The afternoon was far from propitious, and when we got out upon St. Breock’s downs, a mile distant from Wadebridge, we thought a heavy thunderstorm was coming on, and we sheltered for a time at a toll-house placed at a fork of the roads. We decided, after all, to push on, and, when we had reached a most desolate stretch of moorland, we were appalled by a sudden blaze of light from a murky mass of clouds, which was instantly followed, not by a peal of thunder, but by a resounding concussion, which made the very road heave under our feet, and nearly overturned us both into a ditch.

When we recovered our senses, we saw that a huge aerolite had fallen upon the moor close by, only a hundred yards from the road. It had split in two, and the fragments lay rent asunder and sending up vapour and steam. But our attention was instantly riveted by a conical cylinder of greyish-coloured metal still partly attached to the smaller of the two fragments.

The thing was so evidently of artificial make, and had so plainly fallen, in connection with the aerolite, from the sky, that we were hardly able to control ourselves for excitement and agitation. Perhaps I was the more impulsive of the two, for I made several foolish attempts to secure the strange object, but only burned the skin of my hands in doing so.

Several occupants of farms lying within a mile of the shock came running up in due course. We explained what had happened, and prevailed, by the persuasive argument of a coin, on one of the sturdiest of them, to procure a vehicle from the nearest available place, which, unfortunately for us, was as far off as St. Columb Major. However, before assistance arrived, the cylinder had cooled sufficiently to enable us to hoist it into the vehicle and to drive away with it to the little roadside hotel at St. Columb, where we sat up all night. With a hammer and chisel we managed to break the thing open, and a roll of manuscripts tumbled out.

We felt like men on the brink of a great discovery, and so truly we were; for the manuscripts were nothing more nor less than the astounding narratives which we have here pieced together and present to the public.

The letters which our friends had despatched from Newbiggin, in Northumberland, had been published in the Press, and had caused a sensational flutter at the time. But few had given full credence to the story, and some had even set it down as a hoax. At the same time, the utter disappearance of four persons well known at Cambridge and at Oxford was a thing in itself that needed accounting for. Whatever explanation was then given, it remains to be seen what attitude the public in general, and the scientific public in particular, will now adopt when they read and study the foregoing narrative. Whether men are convinced or no, it is our duty to clear up all mysteries which so very personally affect our friends, and this we have now done by letting them speak for themselves.

There is no hope whatever that we shall ever see them again, and there are only two theories to be entertained of the fate of Professor Carmichael and the engineer and of the two peculiar persons who had the misfortune to be compelled to be their fellow-travellers.

One is, that they came to grief in space. If that be so, there can, I fear, be little doubt how it happened. They could not have fallen into the sun, as they once so much dreaded, because if so the cylinder would have perished with them. Rather do we believe they were struck in the void of space (probably not far from the earth) by a meteorite, which wrecked the machine by the shock of direct collision.

The two bodies would then be fused together into one burning mass, and would fall upon the earth by virtue of the terrestrial attraction. The only explanation we can give as to how the cylinder could have escaped is, that, in the last moment of agony and suspense, Carmichael must have thrown it out into space; then, after the collision, it would naturally fall upon the huge meteorite as the nearest attracting body and be carried along with it.

One other theory presents itself: that the catastrophe happened nearer to Venus, that the Asteroid was not fatally damaged, that the cylinder was cast adrift, and that the travellers, after an awful struggle with death, returned to Venus, and are now living in it as their adopted country.

One very curious circumstance has been noted from an Italian Observatory. Professor Rossini and his two assistants were attentively watching Venus early on the morning of a day of exceptionally fine weather in August. They noticed tiny sparklets of light emitted from the summit of the high mountain on the southern horn of the crescent. These lights continued flashing for nearly a quarter of an hour, and it is at least a remarkable coincidence that the number of flashes, which were carefully counted by Professor Rossini, exactly correspond to the letters in the names of Carmichael and Carysfort.

Can we dare to deduce any theory of hope from this? The planet has been kept under close observation, but nothing has been noted since.

(Signed)     Maurice Sheldon.

Gilbert Rice.

BRIGHTON

H. AND C. TREACHER

PRINTERS

Transcriber’s note:

Obvious errors in punctuation have been silently corrected in this version, but minor inconsistencies and archaic forms have been retained as printed. Typos in proper names have been silently corrected. The footnote has been slightly moved to better fit the ebook format.

New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.

The following alterations have been made:

On page 052: umanity to humanity
“I will go about in a bath-chair if it is to benefit humanity,” said Abercromby.

On page 088: eludicate to elucidate
The Professor admitted that this was quite possible, but it did not elucidate the amazing problem of how English could be known in Venus.

On page 165: eyerywhere to everywhere
And as for you, strangers, go forth and spread everywhere the things which God has done for your world,

On page 174: hought to I thought
“Pardon the liberty I am taking, but I thought you would like to know how we are all doing.

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Table of Contents

- ATALANTA
- CONTENTS
- CHAPTER I THE GATHERING OF THE FRIENDS
- CHAPTER II A LIFE SORROW AND ITS REMEDY
- CHAPTER III STARTING SKYWARDS
- CHAPTER IV THE LUNAR PERIL
- CHAPTER V THE METEORIC STORM
- CHAPTER VI INTO THE BLACK GULF
- CHAPTER VII THE NORTHERN ISLAND
- CHAPTER VIII FIRST EXPLORATIONS
- CHAPTER IX ACROSS THE CENTRAL OCEAN
- CHAPTER X WHEN THE RAIN MIST LIFTED
- CHAPTER XI THE CITY AND ITS WELCOME
- CHAPTER XII NEEDFUL PREPARATIONS
- CHAPTER XIII THE FIRST ORDEAL
- CHAPTER XIV THE SECOND ORDEAL
- CHAPTER XV A TALE AT A SUPPER PARTY
- CHAPTER XVI MALCHON’S GOSPEL
- CHAPTER XVII THE PERILS OF CROSS CURRENTS
- CHAPTER XVIII THE FESTIVAL OF PANACLA

- CHAPTER XIX AN AERIAL VOYAGE WITH DIVERS EXPERIENCES

- CHAPTER XX THE ISLAND OF TWILIGHT

- “HOW KERAUNION DIED”

- CHAPTER XXI THE PEAK OF APTAURA
- CHAPTER XXII THE GREAT MYSTERY
- CHAPTER XXIII LYDON’S REVOLT

- CHAPTER XXIV THE DENUNCIATION AND THE RETRIBUTION

- CHAPTER XXV THE OLD LOVE AND THE NEW

- CHAPTER XXVI THE FAREWELL OF AMALONA

- THE FAREWELL OF AMALONA I
- II
- III
- IV
- V
- VI
- VII
- VIII

- CHAPTER XXVII THE SACRED MANUSCRIPT AND THE PRICE PAID FOR IT

- CHAPTER XXVIII THE MESSAGE FROM THE OBSERVATORY

- CHAPTER XXIX THE FEAST OF FAREWELL

- POSTSCRIPT CHAPTER XXX THE MYSTERY THAT WAS UNSOLVED

- Transcriber’s note:

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE