He chuckled and rubbed his long white hands together.
The library with its walnut bookshelves, its deep chairs and faint fragrance of Russian leather, was a pleasant place, thought Elsie. Huge china bowls laden with roses stood in every possible point where bowls could stand. Through the open windows came a gentle breeze laden with the perfume of flowers.
“Tea will be ready in a minute,” said Mr. Colson. “I ordered it when I saw you. Yes, I am interested in asteroids.”
His eyes went mechanically to the cornice of the room above the stone fireplace and Tim, looking up, saw that there was a square black cavity in the oaken panelling and wondered what was its significance.
“They are more real and tangible to me than the great planetary masses. Jupiter — a vapour mass; Saturn — a molten mass, yielding the secret of its rings to the spectroscope; Vulcan — no planet at all, but a myth and a dream of imaginative and romantic astronomers — there are no intra-mercurial planets, by which I mean” — he seemed to find it necessary to explain to Elsie, for which Chap was grateful— “that between Mercury, which is the nearest planet to the sun and the sun itself, there is no planetary body, though some foolish people think there is and have christened it Vulcan—”
An elderly footman had appeared in the doorway and the professor hurried across to him. There was a brief consultation (Elsie suspected a domestic problem, and was right) and with a word of apology, he went out.
“He’s a rum bird,” began Chap and stopped dead. From the black cavity above the fireplace came a thin whine of sound, and then a deafening splutter like exaggerated and intensified “atmospherics.”
“What is that?” whispered the girl.
Before Tim could answer, the spluttering ceased, and then a soft, sweet voice spoke:
“‘Lo…Col — son! Ja’ze ga shil? I speak you, Col — son…Planetoid 127…Big fire in my zehba…city…big fire…”
There was a click and the voice ceased abruptly, and at that moment Professor Colson came in.
He saw the amazed group staring at the square hole in the wall, and his lips twitched.
“You heard — ? I cut off the connection, though I’m afraid I may not get him again tonight.”
“Who is he, sir?” asked Tim frowning. “Was that a transmission from any great distance?”
The professor did not answer at once. He glanced keenly and suspiciously at the girl, as though it was her intelligence he feared. And then:
“The man who spoke was a man named Colson,” he said deliberately; “and he spoke from a distance of 186 million miles!”
Chapter II
They listened, dumbfounded.
Was the old professor mad? The voice that had spoken to them was the voice of Colson…?
“A hundred and eighty-six million miles?” said Tim incredulously “But, Mr. Colson, that was not your voice I heard?”
He smiled faintly and shook his head.
“That was literally my alter ego — my other self,” he said; and it seemed that he was going to say something else, but he changed the subject abruptly.
“Let us have tea,” he said, smiling at Elsie. “My butler brought the alarming news that the ice cream had not arrived, but it came whilst we were discussing that tragedy!”
Elsie was fascinated by the old man and a little scared, too. She alone of that party realised that the reference he had made to the voice that came one hundred and eighty-six millions of miles was no jest on his part.
It was Chap who, in his awkward way, brought the conversation back to the subject of mysterious voices.
“They’ve had signals from Mars on Vancouver, sir,” he said. “I saw it in this morning’s papers.”
Again the professor smiled.
“You think they were atmospherics?” suggested Elsie; and, to her surprise, Colson shook his head. “No; they were not atmospherics,” he said quietly, “but they were not from Mars. I doubt if there is any organic life on Mars, unless it be a lowly form of vegetation.”
“The canals—” began Chap.
“That may be an optical illusion,” said the science master. “Our own moon, seen at a distance of forty million miles, would appear to be intersected very much as Mars seems to be. The truth is, we can never get Mars to stand still long enough to get a definite photograph!”
“From Jupiter?” suggested Chap, now thoroughly interested.
Again Mr. Colson smiled.
“A semi-molten mass on which life could not possibly exist. Nor could it come from Saturn,” he went on tantalizingly, “nor from Venus.”
“Then where on earth do these signals come from?” blurted Chap, and this time Mr. Colson laughed outright.
As they sat at tea, Elsie glanced out admiringly upon the brilliant-hued garden that was visible through the big window, and then she saw something which filled her with astonishment. Two men had come into view round the end of a square-cut hedge. One was the man they had seen half-an-hour previously — the commonplace little fellow who had claimed to be a relative of the professor. The second was taller and older, and, she judged, of a better class. His long, hawklike face was bent down towards his companion, and they were evidently talking on some weighty matter, to judge by the gesticulations of the stranger.
“By Jove!” said Chap suddenly. “Isn’t that Hildreth?”
Mr. Colson looked up quickly; his keen blue eyes took in the scene at once.
“Yes, that is Mr. Hildreth,” he said quietly. “Do you know him?”
“Rather!” said Chap. “He has often been to our house. My father is on the Stock Exchange, and Mr. Hildreth is a big pot in the City.”
Colson nodded.
“Yes, he is a very important person in the City,” he said, with just a touch of hidden sarcasm in his voice. “But he is not a very important person here, and I am wondering why he has come again.”
He rose quickly and went out of the room, and presently Tim, who was watching the newcomers, saw them turn their heads as with one accord and walk out of sight, evidently towards the professor. When the old man came back there was a faint flush in his cheek and a light in his eye which Tim did not remember having seen before.
“They are returning in half-an-hour,” he said, unnecessarily it seemed to Elsie. She had an idea that the old man was in the habit of speaking his thoughts aloud, and here she was not far wrong. Once or twice she had the uncomfortable feeling that she was in the way, for she was a girl of quick intuitions, and though Professor Colson was a man of irreproachable manners, even the most scrupulous of hosts could not wholly hide his anxiety for the little meal to end.
“We’re taking up your valuable time, Mr. Colson,” she said with a dazzling smile, as she rose when tea was over and offered him her hand. “I think there’s going to be a storm, so we had better get back. Are you coming with us, Tim?”
“Why, surely—” began Chap, but she interrupted him.
“Tim said he had an engagement near and was leaving us here,” she said.
Tim had opened