alone that he was cook.  But Spargus insisted on Gibbs doing the coaling, seeing that he was a joiner and that coal is notoriously fossil wood.  Consequently Gibbs ceased to replenish the furnace, and no one else did so, and Cavor was too much immersed in certain interesting problems concerning a Cavorite flying machine (neglecting the resistance of the air and one or two other points) to perceive that anything was wrong.  And the premature birth of his invention took place just as he was coming across the field to my bungalow for our afternoon talk and tea.

I remember the occasion with extreme vividness.  The water was boiling, and everything was prepared, and the sound of his “zuzzoo” had brought me out upon the verandah.  His active little figure was black against the autumnal sunset, and to the right the chimneys of his house just rose above a gloriously tinted group of trees.  Remoter rose the Wealden Hills, faint and blue, while to the left the hazy marsh spread out spacious and serene.  And then—­

The chimneys jerked heavenward, smashing into a string of bricks as they rose, and the roof and a miscellany of furniture followed.  Then overtaking them came a huge white flame.  The trees about the building swayed and whirled and tore themselves to pieces, that sprang towards the flare.  My ears were smitten with a clap of thunder that left me deaf on one side for life, and all about me windows smashed, unheeded.

I took three steps from the verandah towards Cavor’s house, and even as I did so came the wind.

Instantly my coat tails were over my head, and I was progressing in great leaps and bounds, and quite against my will, towards him.  In the same moment the discoverer was seized, whirled about, and flew through the screaming air.  I saw one of my chimney pots hit the ground within six yards of me, leap a score of feet, and so hurry in great strides towards the focus of the disturbance.  Cavor, kicking and flapping, came down again, rolled over and over on the ground for a space, struggled up and was lifted and borne forward at an enormous velocity, vanishing at last among the labouring, lashing trees that writhed about his house.

A mass of smoke and ashes, and a square of bluish shining substance rushed up towards the zenith.  A large fragment of fencing came sailing past me, dropped edgeways, hit the ground and fell flat, and then the worst was over.  The aerial commotion fell swiftly until it was a mere strong gale, and I became once more aware that I had breath and feet.  By leaning back against the wind I managed to stop, and could collect such wits as still remained to me.

In that instant the whole face of the world had changed.  The tranquil sunset had vanished, the sky was dark with scurrying clouds, everything was flattened and swaying with the gale.  I glanced back to see if my bungalow was still in a general way standing, then staggered forwards towards the trees amongst which Cavor had vanished, and through whose tall and leaf-denuded branches shone the flames of his burning house.