Still silent, the trio stood gazing upon that appalling scene for some minutes, while the ruddy shadows of the flaming observatory lit their tense faces. "Well, the seeds have hatched," said Professor Wentworth at length, in a strained voice. "I am afraid some of the curious who have been gathering those meteorites so eagerly have paid a dear price for them." "Yes, I'm afraid so," echoed Jim. "We were lucky. If Joan hadn't happened to spot those things just when she did--" He broke off and pressed her hand fondly. "But somehow I can't believe it, even yet. What do you think the things are, Professor?" "God knows! As I told you, those seeds, should they germinate, would produce something quite alien to our experience; and as I feared, it is a form of life that will not blend well with humanity." Jim shuddered. "But look, father!" exclaimed Joan. "They're flying away! They seem to be way up among the stars. Maybe they've left the earth altogether." Professor Wentworth following his daughter's gaze, saw that many of the monsters were now mere orange pinpoints against the night. "Let us hope so!" he said fervently. But in his heart there was no conviction, nor in Jim's, strangely. * * * * * On the way back to New York, Jim had plenty to heighten his uneasiness. The scene below him everywhere was red with conflagrations, the sky everywhere orange with the wings of those fiery moths. More than one swept perilously close, as he pushed his auto-plane on at top speed; but they showed no inclination to attack, for which he was devoutly thankful. Over the metropolitan area, the scene was one beggaring description. All the five boroughs were a blazing checker-board. New Jersey, Connecticut, Westchester--all were raging. Hundreds of those deadly bombs must have burst in Manhattan alone. But the fire department there seemed to have the situation in hand, he noticed as he swept down onto the Plaza landing platform. Leaving his plane with an attendant, he took the first elevator to the street level, and crossing hastily to the Press tower, mounted to the city room. There absolute pandemonium raged. Typewriters were sputtering, telegraph keys clicking, phones buzzing, reporters coming and going in a steady stream, mingled with the frantic orders of editors, sub-editors, copy readers, composing-room men and others. Carter fought through the bedlam to the city editor's desk. "Sorry I couldn't bring you that egg, Chief," he said, with a grim smile. "I had one right in my hand, but it hatched out on me." Overton looked up wearily. He was a man who had seen a miracle, a godless miracle that restored his faith in the devil. "Don't talk--just write!" he growled. "I've seen and heard too much to-night. We're all going to hell, I guess--unless we're already there." But Jim wasn't ready to write yet. "What's the dope elsewhere? The same?" "All over the map! We're frying, from coast to coast." "And abroad?"