enly a
column of water gushed straight up, mixed with sand and stones, and
fell back on all sides, like a rain of rockets. It was magnificent!"

"And the fishing-smack?"

"The fishing-smack?" echoed Old Sandstone, who seemed not to
understand, to take no interest in this trivial detail. "Oh, yes, the
fishing-smack, of course! Well, she disappeared, that's all!"

The young man was silent, but the next moment continued:

"Now my dear professor, tell me frankly, do you think there's any
danger in crossing?"

"Oh, that's absurd! It's as though you were to ask me whether one
ought to shut one's self in one's room when there is a thunder-storm.
Of course the lightning strikes the earth now and again. But there's
plenty of margin all round. . . . Besides, aren't you a good swimmer?
Well, at the least sign of danger, dive into the sea without delay:
don't stop to think; just dive!"

"And what is your opinion, professor? How do you explain all these
phenomena?"

"How? Oh, very simply! I will remind you, to begin with, that in 1912
the Somme experienced a few shocks which amounted to actual
earthquakes. Point number one. Secondly, these shocks coincided with
local disturbances in the Channel, which passed almost unnoticed; but
they attracted my attention and were the starting point of all my
recent investigations. Among others, one of these disturbances in
which I am inclined to see the premonitory signs of the present
water-spouts, occurred off Saint-Valery. And that was why you caught
me one day, I remember, going down in a diving-suit just at that spot.
Now, from all this, it follows. . . ."

"What follows?"

Old Sandstone interrupted himself, seized the young man's hand and
suddenly changed the course of the conversation:

"Now tell me, Dubosc," he said, "have you read my pamphlet on _The
Cliffs of the Channel_? You haven't, have you? Well, if you had, you
would know that one of the chapters, entitled, '_What will occur in
the Channel in the year 2000_,' is now being fulfilled. D'you
understand? I predicted the whole thing! Not these minor incidents of
wrecks and water-spouts, of course, but what they seem to announce.
Yes, Dubosc; whether it be in the year 2000, or the year 3000, or next
week, I have foretold in all its details the unheard-of, astounding,
yet very natural thing which will happen sooner or later."

He had now grown animated. Drops of sweat beaded his cheeks and
forehead; and, taking from an inn