The car is now at rest in space. A slight impulse will direct it one
way or another. Why should we not send it off in such a way that in
falling towards Mercury it will not strike the planet, but circle round
it; or if it should fall towards the surface, will do so at a great
slant, and allow the atmosphere to cool the engines."

"Let me see," said Gazen, drawing a diagram in his note-book, and
studying it attentively. "Yes, there is something in that. It's a
forlorn hope at best, but perhaps it's our only hope. If we could only
get into the shadow of the planet we might be saved."

As delay might prove fatal to Carmichael, and since it was uncertain
whether he could right the engines in their present situation, we
decided to act on the suggestion without loss of time. Gazen and I
calculated the positions of the rifles and the number of shots to be
fired in order to give the required impetus to the car. The engine-room,
being well provided with scuttles, was chosen as the scene of our
operations. A brace of magazine rifles were fixed through two of the
scuttles in such a way that the recoil of the shots would urge the car
in an oblique direction backwards, so as to clear or almost clear the
planet, allowance being made for the forward motion of the latter in its
orbit. Needless to say, the barrel of each rifle was packed round so as
to keep the air in the car from escaping into space.

At a given signal the rifles were discharged simultaneously by Gazen and
myself. There was little noise, but the car trembled with the shock, and
the prostrate man opened his eyes.

Had it produced the desired effect? We could not tell without an appeal
to the telescope.

"I'll be back in a moment," cried Gazen, springing upstairs to the
observatory.

"Do you feel any better, father?" enquired Miss Carmichael, laying her
cool hand on the invalid's fevered brow.

He winked, and tried to nod in the affirmative. "Were you asleep,
father? Did the shock rouse you?"

He winked again.

"Do you know what we are doing?" Before he could answer the foot of
Gazen sounded on the stair. He had left us with an eager, almost a
confident eye. He came back looking grave in the extreme.

"We are not falling towards Mercury," he said gloomily. "_We are rushing
to the sun!_"

I cannot depict our emotion at this awful announcement which changed our
hopes into despair. Probably it affected each of us in a different
manner. I cannot recollect my ow