nly," he replied. "As soon as Mr Lennard has got the
telescope fixed, you go first, and I reckon that won't take very long."

"No," replied Lennard, "I've worked out the position for to-night, and
it's only a matter of winding up the clockwork and setting the
telescope. And now," he continued, rising, "if you will allow me, I will
say--well, I was going to say good-night, but of course it's
good-morning--I'm going to bed."

"Will you come down to lunch, or shall I have some sent up to you?"
said Auriole.

"No, thanks. I don't think there will be any need to trouble you about
that. When I once get to sleep, I hope I shall forget all things
earthly, and heavenly too for the matter of that, until about six
o'clock, and if you will have me called then, I will be ready for
dinner."

"Certainly," replied Auriole, "and I hope you will sleep as well as you
deserve to do, after all these nights of watching."

He did sleep. He slept the sleep of a man physically and mentally tired,
in spite of the load of unspeakable anxiety which was weighing upon his
mind. For during his last night's work, he had learnt what no other man
in the world knew. He had learnt that, unless a miracle happened, or
some almost superhuman feat of ingenuity and daring was accomplished,
that day thirteen months hence would see the annihilation of every
living thing on earth, and the planet Terra converted into a dark and
lifeless orb, a wilderness drifting through space, the blackened and
desolated sepulchre of the countless millions of living beings which now
inhabited it.

CHAPTER V

A GLIMPSE OF THE DOOM

After dinner Lennard excused himself, saying that he wanted to make a
few more calculations; and then he got outside and lit his pipe, and
walked up the winding path towards the observatory.

"What am I to do?" he said between his teeth. "It's a ghastly position
for a man to be placed in. Fancy--just a poor, ordinary, human being
like myself having the power of losing or saving the world in his hands!
And then, of course, there's a woman in the question--the Eternal
Feminine--even in such a colossal problem as this!

"It's mean, and I know it; but, after all, I saved her life--though, if
I hadn't reached her first, that other chap might have got her. I love
her and he loves her; there's no doubt about that, and Papa Parmenter
wants to marry her to a coronet. There's one thing certain, Castellan
shall not have her, and I love her a l