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"A MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM MARS."
"REMARKABLE STORY FROM WOKING,"
and so forth. In addition, Ogilvy's wire to the Astronomical
Exchange had roused every observatory in the three kingdoms.
There were half a dozen flies or more from the Woking
station standing in the road by the sand pits, a basket-chaise
from Chobham, and a rather lordly carriage. Besides
that, there was quite a heap of bicycles. In addition, a
large number of people must have walked, in spite of the
heat of the day, from Woking and Chertsey, so that there was
altogether quite a considerable crowd--one or two gaily
dressed ladies among the others.
It was glaringly hot, not a cloud in the sky nor a breath
of wind, and the only shadow was that of the few scattered
pine trees. The burning heather had been extinguished, but
the level ground towards Ottershaw was blackened as far as
one could see, and still giving off vertical streamers of
smoke. An enterprising sweet-stuff dealer in the Chobham
Road had sent up his son with a barrow-load of green
apples and ginger beer.
Going to the edge of the pit, I found it occupied by a
group of about half a dozen men--Henderson, Ogilvy, and
a tall, fair-haired man that I afterwards learned was Stent,
the Astronomer Royal, with several workmen wielding spades
and pickaxes. Stent was giving directions in a clear, high-pitched
voice. He was standing on the cylinder, which was
now evidently much cooler; his face was crimson and streaming
with perspiration, and something seemed to have irritated
him.
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