The reader of imagination--and no other will read this tale--must figure to himself the island of Manhattan during the next two hours. The entire population, nearly, tried to leave it at once. When only the suburban dwellers, urged simply by the desire for a hot dinner, attempt to return home between five and six, the ways are congested enough. Now, stricken with the fear of death, the human cattle fought frantically to reach the inadequate exits of the great theater of tragedy. There was fighting in the streets, and panic, and stark rumor, of course; and there was heroism, and coolness, and the taking of thought. To the little group of men in the top floor of the Atlas Building the roar of riot came up like the thunder of the orchestra before the rise of the curtain. Most of the people in the streets fled from a danger they did not understand. This little group in the wireless office realized clearly what still and frozen dissolution the rising of the curtain would disclose. They were not many; and they did not know what they were to do, if anything; but they had not run away. Eldridge was there, looking somewhat flustered for the first time in his life, and four of the large committee that had employed him. Simmons sat calmly at his post, and of all the reporters Hallowell alone had stood by. He had faith in Darrow, and he knew that in the _Despatch_ office a little handful of men stood in the shadow of death on the off chance of the biggest scoop since Noah's flood. The four solid citizens looked at one another. The oldest turned to Eldridge. "Then your opinion is that the city is doomed?" "I can offer no other solution, sir," said the scientist. "It is at last evident that this man's power over ethereal vibrations extends to those forming heat-rays. If this is so, it follows that he can cut off all life by stopping all heat. If his threat is carried out, we can but look forward to a repetition on a large scale of the City Hall affair." The aged financier now spoke to Simmons. "And the last report from the searchers?" he asked formally. "The search is being pushed, sir," replied the operator, "by twenty thousand men. There remain some fifty miles of country to go over, Mr. Lyons." Lyons turned his shaggy head toward a younger, slim, keen-eyed man of fifty. "And the city will, in your judgment, Mr. Perkins, take how long to empty?" "Days--in the present confusion," said Perkins shortly. "We can move only a limited percentage. Thank God, most of our men are standing by. I think all our rolling stock is moving." Lyons nodded twice. "And you?" he asked the third of the party, a stout young man of thirty-eight or so. "How many stations are on the job, Simmons?" asked this man. "All but two, sir," replied the operator. "D and P don't answer. I guess they beat it." "How do they report the bulletin men?" "On the job," replied the wireless man. The stout young man turned to Lyons.