I placed my eye to the telescope, and saw the glowing surface of the disc resolved into a marvellous web of shining patches on a dimmer background, and in the midst a large blotch which reminded me of a quarry hole as delineated on the plan of a surveyor.
"Have you been able to throw any fresh light on these mysterious 'spots?'" I enquired.
"I am more than ever persuaded they are breaks in the photosphere caused by eruptions of heated matter, chiefly gaseous from the interior—eruptions such as might give rise to craters like that of Womla, or those of the moon, were the sun cooler. No doubt that eminent authority, Professor Sylvanus Pettifer Possil, regards them as aerial hurricanes; but the more I see, the more I am constrained to regard Sylvanus Pettifer Possil as a silly vain asteroid."
While Gazen was yet speaking we both became sensible of an unwonted stillness in the car.
The machinery had ceased to vibrate.
Our feelings at this discovery were akin to those of passengers in an ocean steamer when the screw stops—a welcome relief to the monotony of the voyage, a vague apprehension of danger, and curiosity to learn what had happened.
"Is there anything wrong, Carmichael?" asked Gazen through the speaking tube.
There was no response.
"I say, Carmichael, is anything the matter?" he reiterated in a louder tone.
Still no answer.