“He was trying to photograph a flash of lightning. I don’t know how he succeeded.” He stopped at the doorway and might have said more, if Fogg had not requested him to come on in and close the door. “This is the last plate I exposed, and I’m going to try it first,” said Fogg, as he made his preparations. Fogg was an enthusiast on the subject of photography, and had long desired to catch a lightning flash with his camera. “If I haven’t got it now I’ll never have a better chance. That flash, just before the dam broke—wasn’t it great? The whole sky flamed in a way to blind a fellow. For a second or so I couldn’t see a thing. I had the camera focussed and pointed just right to get that in great shape, it seems to me. Now we’ll see the result.” He placed the plate in the tray and turned the developer on it. Justin and Lucy were standing together, with heads almost touching, watching with interest to see the picture appear. “I’ve got something, anyhow,” said Fogg, when he saw the streak which the lightning had printed stand out, as it were, on the plate. “I think I’ve got a picture of the dam, too. The camera was trained on the mountain, right across the top of the dam; I thought if I got the lightning I might have a great combination, with the dam and other things showing.” “You’ve got the lightning flash all right,” said Justin, bending forward. “Yes, that’s coming out great; see the image develop!” He stopped, with a whistle of astonishment. “Hello!” he exclaimed. “What’s this?” A remarkable picture was coming—had come—into view. Fogg stared, with rounded eyes; Lucy uttered a little cry of dismay and fright; Justin caught his breath with a gasp of astonishment. Small wonder. On the end of the dam nearest the trail two human figures were shown—a man standing on the dam with axe descending and a woman rushing toward him over the slippery logs. The figures were not large, but they were portrayed clearly. They were the figures of Ben and Lucy Davison, caught there by the camera, in the mad turmoil of the lashing storm. For a moment not a word was spoken, while the figures seemed to swim more clearly into view. Lucy broke the dead silence. “May I see that plate, Mr. Fogg?” Her voice was repressed and hard, as if she struggled with some violent emotion. “I—don’t—why, yes, of course, look at it all you want to. But I don’t—” The sentence was broken by a crash of falling glass. Lucy had either dashed the plate to the floor, or had let it fall in her agitation. Justin almost leaped when he heard that sound. Lucy looked at him, and for a moment he thought she was going to cry out. But again she spoke, turning to Fogg. “Well, I’m glad it’s broken!” she declared, nervously. “You saw what you saw, Mr. Fogg; but there is no reason why you should remember it. I hope you won’t. Perhaps one of the other plates will show a lightning flash. You couldn’t have used this, anyway.”