Cries and exclamations rang from room to room; children wailed; hysterical mothers ran wildly hither and thither, seeking their little ones. Many fainted, partly through terror and partly from the difficulty of breathing. Sick persons, seized with a terrible oppression of the chest, gasped, and never rose from their beds. At every window, and in every doorway, throughout the vast city, invisible heads and forms were crowded, making their presence known by their voices--distracted householders striving to peer through the strange darkness, and to find out the cause of these terrifying phenomena. Some managed to get a faint glimpse of their watches by holding them close against lamps, and thus noted the time. It was two o'clock in the morning. Neighbors, unseen, called to one another, but got little comfort from the replies. "What is it? In God's name, what has happened?" "I don't know. I can hardly breathe." "It is awful! We shall all be suffocated." "Is it a fire?" "No! No! It cannot be a fire." "The air is full of steam. The stones and the window-panes are streaming with moisture." "Great Heavens, how stifling it is!" Then, into thousands of minds at once leaped the thought of _the flood!_ The memory of Cosmo Versál's reiterated warnings came back with overwhelming force. It must be the _third sign_ that he had foretold. _It had really come!_ Those fateful words--"the flood" and "Cosmo Versál"--ran from lip to lip, and the hearts of those who spoke, and those who heard, sank like lead in their bosoms. He would be a bold man, more confident in his powers of description than the present writer, who should attempt to picture the scenes in New York on that fearful night. The gasping and terror-stricken millions waited and longed for the hour of sunrise, hoping that then the stygian darkness would be dissipated, so that people might, at least, see where to go and what to do. Many, oppressed by the almost unbreathable air, gave up in despair, and no longer even hoped for morning to come. In the midst of it all a collision occurred directly over Central Park between two aero-expresses, one coming from Boston and the other from Albany. (The use of small aeroplanes within the city limits had, for some time, been prohibited on account of the constant danger of collisions, but the long-distance lines were permitted to enter the metropolitan district, making their landings and departures on specially constructed towers.) These two, crowded with passengers, had, as it afterward appeared, completely lost their bearings--the strongest electric lights being invisible a few hundred feet away, while the wireless signals were confusing--and, before the danger was apprehended, they crashed together.