"
"You're as wrong now as you thought you were right yesterday."
"I'm sorry to say I was wrong yesterday; but I have every reason to
believe I'm right to-day."
"We shall see! Wait till to-night!"
"To-night! Too late! As far as the Projectile is concerned, night is now
no better than day."
The learned Professor was quite right, but in a way which he did not
exactly expect. That very evening, after a weary day, apparently a month
long, during which Marston sought in vain for a few hours' repose, just
as all hands, well wrapped up in warm furs, were getting ready to assume
their posts once more near the mouth of the gigantic Telescope, Mr.
M'Connell hastily presented himself with a dispatch for Belfast.
The Professor was listlessly breaking the envelope, when he uttered a
sharp cry of surprise.
"Hey!" cried Marston quickly. "What's up now?"
"Oh!! The Pro--pro--projectile!!"
"What of it? What? Oh what?? Speak!!"
"IT'S BACK!!"
Marston uttered a wild yell of mingled horror, surprise, and joy, jumped
a little into the air, and then fell flat and motionless on the
platform. Had Belfast shot him with a ten pound weight, right between
the two eyes, he could not have knocked him flatter or stiffer.
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