nescent. Even the most
comprehensive mind"--here he closed his eyes and simpered--"could hardly
conceive a universal outbreak of it in this fashion."

"You may label it catalepsy," remarked Summerlee, "but, after all, that
is only a name, and we know as little of the result as we do of the
poison which has caused it. The most we can say is that the vitiated
ether has produced a temporary death."

Austin was seated all in a heap on the step of the car. It was his
coughing which I had heard from above. He had been holding his head in
silence, but now he was muttering to himself and running his eyes over
the car.

"Young fat-head!" he grumbled. "Can't leave things alone!"

"What's the matter, Austin?"

"Lubricators left running, sir. Someone has been fooling with the car.
I expect it's that young garden boy, sir."

Lord John looked guilty.

"I don't know what's amiss with me," continued Austin, staggering to his
feet. "I expect I came over queer when I was hosing her down. I seem to
remember flopping over by the step. But I'll swear I never left those
lubricator taps on."

In a condensed narrative the astonished Austin was told what had happened
to himself and the world. The mystery of the dripping lubricators was
also explained to him. He listened with an air of deep distrust when
told how an amateur had driven his car and with absorbed interest to the
few sentences in which our experiences of the sleeping city were
recorded. I can remember his comment when the story was concluded.

"Was you outside the Bank of England, sir?"

"Yes, Austin."

"With all them millions inside and everybody asleep?"

"That was so."

"And I not there!" he groaned, and turned dismally once more to the
hosing of his car.

There was a sudden grinding of wheels upon gravel. The old cab had
actually pulled up at Challenger's door. I saw the young occupant step
out from it. An instant later the maid, who looked as tousled and
bewildered as if she had that instant been aroused from the deepest
sleep, appeared with a card upon a tray. Challenger snorted ferociously
as he looked at it, and his thick black hair seemed to bristle up in his
wrath.

"A pressman!" he growled. Then with a deprecating smile: "After all, it
is natural that the whole world should hasten to know what I think of
such an episode."

"That can hardly be his errand," said Summerlee, "for he was on the road
in his cab before ever the crisis came