“Once in thirty-three and a third years it strikes the path of the Earth. Small planets mingled with masses of chaos are brought almost to the tops of our mountains.
“Years ago the hermit devised a spiral car, which, by means of subterranean cavities, walled with cement and filled with certain explosives of his own combination, should be shot into the coming meteor. All the machinery of the contrivance is hidden and connected with a secret clock. At the precise second when the worlds strike right the clock will explode the torpedoes and the car will be launched into space!
“Twice has Gregg Dempster seen the small star, or world, come close. But he mistook his measurements, as he did not calculate for the swerving of the ball from its true orbit as it passed the giant planets out in space.
“This time he would have been successful, but he shared the great hope, which had become the nerve of his life, with another man and from the lessened tension died.”
“Right,” said Father Renaudin. “If Gregg Dempster had kept his secret, he had seen his star once more. But only then to die of disappointment. For man to migrate from star to star is an impossibility!”
Then Regan replied:
“Monarch of Fate is man, above all destiny. Man yet shall chain the stars; shall drive the harnessed worlds!”
“It is simply impossible!” repeated the priest.
From the darkness where lay the dead man came a voice:
“And I will give him the morning star!”