And, indeed, it proved to be a very merry meal.  It is true that we could not forget our awful situation.  The full solemnity of the event loomed ever at the back of our minds and tempered our thoughts.  But surely it is the soul which has never faced death which shies strongly from it at the end.  To each of us men it had, for one great epoch in our lives, been a familiar presence.  As to the lady, she leaned upon the strong guidance of her mighty husband and was well content to go whither his path might lead.  The future was our fate.  The present was our own.  We passed it in goodly comradeship and gentle merriment.  Our minds were, as I have said, singularly lucid.  Even I struck sparks at times.  As to Challenger, he was wonderful!  Never have I so realized the elemental greatness of the man, the sweep and power of his understanding.  Summerlee drew him on with his chorus of subacid criticism, while Lord John and I laughed at the contest and the lady, her hand upon his sleeve, controlled the bellowings of the philosopher.  Life, death, fate, the destiny of man—­these were the stupendous subjects of that memorable hour, made vital by the fact that as the meal progressed strange, sudden exaltations in my mind and tinglings in my limbs proclaimed that the invisible tide of death was slowly and gently rising around us.  Once I saw Lord John put his hand suddenly to his eyes, and once Summerlee dropped back for an instant in his chair.  Each breath we breathed was charged with strange forces.  And yet our minds were happy and at ease.  Presently Austin laid the cigarettes upon the table and was about to withdraw.

“Austin!” said his master.

“Yes, sir?”

“I thank you for your faithful service.”  A smile stole over the servant’s gnarled face.

“I’ve done my duty, sir.”

“I’m expecting the end of the world to-day, Austin.”

“Yes, sir.  What time, sir?”

“I can’t say, Austin.  Before evening.”

“Very good, sir.”

The taciturn Austin saluted and withdrew.  Challenger lit a cigarette, and, drawing his chair closer to his wife’s, he took her hand in his.

“You know how matters stand, dear,” said he.  “I have explained it also to our friends here.  You’re not afraid are you?”

“It won’t be painful, George?”

“No more than laughing-gas at the dentist’s.  Every time you have had it you have practically died.”

“But that is a pleasant sensation.”

“So may death be.  The worn-out bodily machine can’t record its impression, but we know the mental pleasure which lies in a dream or a trance.  Nature may build a beautiful door and hang it with many a gauzy and shimmering curtain to make an entrance to the new life for our wondering souls.  In all my probings of the actual, I have always found wisdom and kindness at the core; and if ever the frightened mortal needs tenderness, it is surely as he makes the passage perilous from life to life.  No, Summerlee, I will have none of your materialism, for I, at least, am too great a thing to end in mere physical constituents, a packet of salts and three bucketfuls of water.  Here—­here”—­and he beat his great head with his huge, hairy fist—­“there is something which uses matter, but is not of it—­something which might destroy death, but which death can never destroy.”