“Those fellows don’t seem to feel any ill effects,” said I, pointing down at the links.

“Have you played golf?” asked Lord John.

“No, I have not.”

“Well, young fellah, when you do you’ll learn that once fairly out on a round, it would take the crack of doom to stop a true golfer.  Halloa!  There’s that telephone-bell again.”

From time to time during and after lunch the high, insistent ring had summoned the Professor.  He gave us the news as it came through to him in a few curt sentences.  Such terrific items had never been registered in the world’s history before.  The great shadow was creeping up from the south like a rising tide of death.  Egypt had gone through its delirium and was now comatose.  Spain and Portugal, after a wild frenzy in which the Clericals and the Anarchists had fought most desperately, were now fallen silent.  No cable messages were received any longer from South America.  In North America the southern states, after some terrible racial rioting, had succumbed to the poison.  North of Maryland the effect was not yet marked, and in Canada it was hardly perceptible.  Belgium, Holland, and Denmark had each in turn been affected.  Despairing messages were flashing from every quarter to the great centres of learning, to the chemists and the doctors of world-wide repute, imploring their advice.  The astronomers too were deluged with inquiries.  Nothing could be done.  The thing was universal and beyond our human knowledge or control.  It was death—­painless but inevitable—­death for young and old, for weak and strong, for rich and poor, without hope or possibility of escape.  Such was the news which, in scattered, distracted messages, the telephone had brought us.  The great cities already knew their fate and so far as we could gather were preparing to meet it with dignity and resignation.  Yet here were our golfers and laborers like the lambs who gambol under the shadow of the knife.  It seemed amazing.  And yet how could they know?  It had all come upon us in one giant stride.  What was there in the morning paper to alarm them?  And now it was but three in the afternoon.  Even as we looked some rumour seemed to have spread, for we saw the reapers hurrying from the fields.  Some of the golfers were returning to the club-house.  They were running as if taking refuge from a shower.  Their little caddies trailed behind them.  Others were continuing their game.  The nurse had turned and was pushing her perambulator hurriedly up the hill again.  I noticed that she had her hand to her brow.  The cab had stopped and the tired horse, with his head sunk to his knees, was resting.  Above there was a perfect summer sky—­one huge vault of unbroken blue, save for a few fleecy white clouds over the distant downs.  If the human race must die to-day, it was at least upon a glorious death-bed.  And yet all that gentle loveliness of nature made this terrific and wholesale destruction the more pitiable and awful.  Surely it was too goodly a residence that we should be so swiftly, so ruthlessly, evicted from it!