Ardan could
neither sit, stand nor lie still for a second, though he tried all
three. His silence, of course, did not last long.
"Ha! ha! ha!" he laughed bitterly. "Precious scientific men! Villainous
old hombogues! The whole set not worth a straw! I hope to gracious,
since we must fall, that we shall drop down plumb on Cambridge
Observatory, and not leave a single one of the miserable old women,
called professors, alive in the premises!"
A certain expression in Ardan's angry exclamation had struck the Captain
like a shot, and set his temples throbbing violently.
"_Must_ fall!" he exclaimed, starting up suddenly. "Let us see about
that! It is now seven o'clock in the morning. We must have, therefore,
been at least thirty-two hours on the road, and more than half of our
passage is already made. If we are going to fall at all, we must be
falling now! I'm certain we're not, but, Barbican, you have to find it
out!"
Barbican caught the idea like lightning, and, seizing a compass, he
began through the floor window to measure the visual angle of the
distant Earth. The apparent immobility of the Projectile allowed him to
do this with great exactness. Then laying aside the instrument, and
wiping off the thick drops of sweat that bedewed his forehead, he began
jotting down some figures on a piece of paper.
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