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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




                                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




                                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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