When Masters was sufficiently recovered he told his story. “I got through the ether all right,” said he. “I was through in a second and was standing on the exposed deck at the mercy of the elements. The cold was intense—I’ve never before experienced anything like it. In those few seconds it just cut through me. I could hardly see—my eyes filled with water, and smarted terribly as the gaseous vapour touched them. I lowered my handkerchief for the tiniest fragment of a second, and drew a very slight breath. The effect was terrible. My lungs felt as if they would burst—my mouth felt as if it had been seared with hot irons—my senses reeled; I felt as if I should fall. Then I became conscious of Murdoch lying huddled at my feet. I pulled him into the cabin after me, and well,—you know the rest. Poor Murdoch—I was too late.” The excitement following the loss of Murdoch and Masters’ adventure after him, had made the hungry prisoners forget the emptiness of their larder. They all sat down to a hearty meal, and it was only at the end they realized it meant their being on still shorter rations in the future. And only too soon the larders were indeed empty! Mavis grew too weak to move, and lay helpless on her bed, her baby at her breast. Masters was the last to give in, and as he walked unsteadily to his cabin, he had visions of Sir John on one chair and Alan on another, each vainly trying to whisper words of comfort to the other. Still the ship remained motionless—the stillness was of the grave. Suddenly a whitish beam of light shot out through the clouds, and Alan saw a new moon rising. And as he watched he saw another skim the heavens, and another, and yet another. He looked at them in perplexity—four pink tipped crescents in the sky! “Four Moons! God!” he cried. “The four satellites of Jupiter! Or should there be eight? Four—eight—eight—four.” His brain muddled. Four Moons visible at once! Jupiter! He was witnessing the rise of four of the planet’s moons! He was watching them through the misty clouds—then came a blessed sense of oblivion, and he too, lost consciousness. When he awoke again, it was with a feeling that the Argenta was again moving through space—moving slowly, but with a speed that was gradually quickening. He staggered to his feet, and bent over his uncle. Sir John was still breathing, but there was a curious greyness in his face, and Alan moistened his lips with a drop of brandy. The old man moved, and opened his eyes. “Drink a little,” said Alan kindly. “It will do you good.” Sir. John managed to swallow a little of the burning fluid, and sighing naturally, closed his eyes in sleep. With difficulty, Alan managed to reach Desmond’s room, for he was very weak. He found Mavis lying on her bed, hardly breathing: the babe lay in her arms sleeping peacefully. She had given the very essence of her strength to her child, and he had scarcely suffered at all.