ir was insufferable. The
beds had been slept in, evidently a long time ago, and had never been
made since. The tumbled, discoloured bed linen actually preserved the
impressions of the sleepers. There was no doubt that these impressions
were ancient, for all sorts of floating dirt had accumulated on the
sheets and coverlets.

"Who could have slept here, do you think?" interrogated Maskull. "The
observatory staff?"

"More likely travellers like ourselves. They left suddenly."

Maskull flung the windows wide open in every room he came to, and held
his breath until he had done so. Two of the bedrooms faced the sea; the
third, the library, the upward-sloping moorland. This library was now
the only room left unvisited, and unless they discovered signs of recent
occupation here Maskull made up his mind to regard the whole business as
a gigantic hoax.

But the library, like all the other rooms, was foul with stale air and
dust-laden. Maskull, having flung the window up and down, fell heavily
into an armchair and looked disgustedly at his friend.

"Now what is your opinion of Krag?"

Nightspore sat on the edge of the table which stood before the window.
"He may still have left a message for us."

"What message? Why? Do you mean in this room?--I see no message."

Nightspore's eyes wandered about the room, finally seeming to linger
upon a glass-fronted wall cupboard, which contained a few old bottles on
one of the shelves and nothing else. Maskull glanced at him and at the
cupboard. Then, without a word, he got up to examine the bottles.

There were four altogether, one of which was larger than the rest. The
smaller ones were about eight inches long. All were torpedo-shaped, but
had flattened bottoms, which enabled them to stand upright. Two of
the smaller ones were empty and unstoppered, the others contained a
colourless liquid, and possessed queer-looking, nozzle-like stoppers
that were connected by a thin metal rod with a catch halfway down the
side of the bottle. They were labelled, but the labels were yellow
with age and the writing was nearly undecipherable. Maskull carried the
filled bottles with him to the table in front of the window, in order to
get better light. Nightspore moved away to make room for him.

He now made out on the larger bottle the words "Solar Back Rays"; and
on the other one, after some doubt, he thought that he could distinguish
something like "Arcturian Back Rays."

He looked up, to stare