"If we only had time, my father might recover, and I believe he would save us yet," said Miss Carmichael.
"I wonder how much time we have," muttered Gazen.
"We can't tell," said I. "It depends on the height we had reached and the speed we were going at when the engines stopped. We shall rise like a ball thrown into the air and then fall back to the ground."
"I wonder if we are still rising," ejaculated Gazen. "Let us take a look at the planet."
"Don't be long," pleaded Miss Carmichael, as we turned to go. "Meanwhile, I shall try and bring my father round."
On getting to the observatory, we consulted the atmospheric pressure gauge and found it out of use, a sign that we had attained an altitude beyond the atmosphere of Mercury, and were now in empty space.
We turned to the planet, whose enormous disc, muffled in cloud, was shining lividly in the weird sky. At one part of the limb a range of lofty mountain peaks rose above the clouds and chequered them with shadow.
Fixing our eyes upon this landmark we watched it with bated breath. Was it coming nearer, or was it receding from us? That was the momentous question.
My feelings might be compared to those of a prisoner at the bar watching the face of the juryman who is about to deliver the verdict.
After a time—I know not how long—but it seemed an age—the professor exclaimed,