lmost level. He could breathe. He turned his head for the first
time to see what had become of his antagonists. Turned back to the
levers for a moment and looked again. For a moment he could have
believed they were annihilated. And then he saw between the two stages
to the east was a chasm, and down this something, a slender edge, fell
swiftly and vanished, as a sixpence falls down a crack.

At first he did not understand, and then a wild joy possessed him. He
shouted at the top of his voice, an inarticulate shout, and drove higher
and higher up the sky. Throb, throb, throb, pause, throb, throb, throb.
"Where was the other aeropile?" he thought. "They too--." As he looked
round the empty heavens he had a momentary fear that this machine had
risen above him, and then he saw it alighting on the Norwood stage. They
had meant shooting. To risk being rammed headlong two thousand feet in
the air was beyond their latter-day courage. The combat was declined.

For a little while he circled, then swooped in a steep descent towards
the westward stage. Throb throb throb, throb throb throb. The twilight
was creeping on apace, the smoke from the Streatham stage that had been
so dense and dark, was now a pillar of fire, and all the laced curves
of the moving ways and the translucent roofs and domes and the chasms
between the buildings were glowing softly now, lit by the tempered
radiance of the electric light that the glare of the way overpowered.
The three efficient stages that the Ostrogites held--for Wimbledon Park
was useless because of the fire from Roehampton, and Streatham was a
furnace--were glowing with guide lights for the coming aeroplanes. As
he swept over the Roehampton stage he saw the dark masses of the people
thereon. He heard a clap of frantic cheering, heard a bullet from the
Wimbledon Park stage tweet through the air, and went beating up above
the Surrey wastes. He felt a breath of wind from the south-west, and
lifted his westward wing as he had learnt to do, and so drove upward
heeling into the rare swift upper air. Throb throb throb--throb throb
throb.

Up he drove and up, to that pulsating rhythm, until the country beneath
was blue and indistinct, and London spread like a little map traced in
light, like the mere model of a city near the brim of the horizon. The
south-west was a sky of sapphire over the shadowy rim of the world, and
ever as he drove upward the multitude of stars increased.

And behold! In the