of thing that pleased the public mind was caricatures of
eminent politicians after a course of Boom-feeding, uses of the idea on
hoardings, and such edifying exhibitions as the dead wasps that had
escaped the fire and the remaining hens.

Beyond that the public did not care to look, until very strenuous
efforts were made to turn its eyes to the remoter consequences, and even
then for a while its enthusiasm for action was partial. "There's always
somethin' New," said the public--a public so glutted with novelty that
it would hear of the earth being split as one splits an apple without
surprise, and, "I wonder what they'll do next."

But there were one or two people outside the public, as it were, who did
already take that further glance, and some it seems were frightened by
what they saw there. There was young Caterham, for example, cousin of
the Earl of Pewterstone, and one of the most promising of English
politicians, who, taking the risk of being thought a faddist, wrote a
long article in the _Nineteenth Century and After_ to suggest its total
suppression. And--in certain of his moods, there was Bensington.

"They don't seem to realise--" he said to Cossar.

"No, they don't."

"And do we? Sometimes, when I think of what it means--This poor child of
Redwood's--And, of course, your three... Forty feet high, perhaps!
After all, _ought_ we to go on with it?"

"Go on with it!" cried Cossar, convulsed with inelegant astonishment and
pitching his note higher than ever. "Of _course_ you'll go on with it!
What d'you think you were made for? Just to loaf about between
meal-times?

"Serious consequences," he screamed, "of course! Enormous. Obviously.
Ob-viously. Why, man, it's the only chance you'll ever get of a serious
consequence! And you want to shirk it!" For a moment his indignation was
speechless, "It's downright Wicked!" he said at last, and repeated
explosively, "Wicked!"

But Bensington worked in his laboratory now with more emotion than zest.
He couldn't, tell whether he wanted serious consequences to his life or
not; he was a man of quiet tastes. It was a marvellous discovery, of
course, quite marvellous--but--He had already become the proprietor of
several acres of scorched, discredited property near Hickleybrow, at a
price of nearly