“I have been here all the time,” she exclaimed; “or, at least, nearly all the time.” And as she spoke she drew back and looked at him, her eyes full of happy tears. “Mr. Bryce telegraphed to me the instant he knew you were going down, and I was here before you had descended half-way.”
“What!” he cried. “And all those messages came from you?”
“Nearly all,” she answered. “But tell me, Roland—tell me; have you been successful?”
“I am successful,” he answered. “I have discovered everything!”
Bryce came forward.
“I will speak to you all very soon,” said Clewe. “I can’t tell you anything now. Margaret, let us go. I wish to talk to you, but not until I have been to my office. I will meet you at your house in a very few minutes.” And with that he left the building and fairly ran to his office.
A quarter of an hour later Roland entered Margaret’s library, where she sat awaiting him. He carefully closed the doors and windows. They sat side by side upon the sofa.
“Now, Roland,” she said, “I cannot wait one second longer. What is it that you have discovered?”
“When I arrived at the bottom of the shaft,” he began, “I found myself in a cleft, I know not how large, made in a vast mass of transparent substance, hard as the hardest rock and as transparent as air in the light of my electric lamps. My shell rested securely upon this substance. I walked upon it. It seemed as if I could see miles below me. In my opinion, Margaret, that substance was once the head of a comet.”
“What is the substance?” she asked, hastily.