“And its light is unbearable—just yet. Now， Addie， I am goingto blindfold you and take you and Mrs. Jepson down to theunderground room. We shall all have to get used to the light bydegrees， do just what I tell you， and Dick and I will make youcomfortable.”
But when the two women were safely disposed of in a roominto which scarcely any light ever penetrated in an ordinaryway， but which was then as light as noontide， Mequillen drewCockerlyne into the study， and， groping his way to the windows，closed the shutters and drew the curtains over them.
“Now you can take off your muffler，” he said quietly. “There，you see it’s light enough even now， to read print and to seethe time. And—you perceive the time？ Half-past twelve，midnight！”
Cockerlyne’s face blanched. He swallowed something， andstraightened himself.
“What is this， Mequillen？” he asked quietly. “Do youknow？”
Mequillen shook his head.
“Not with certainty，” he answered. “But I think I know.
Forty-eight hours ago I discovered a new star， which increasedin magnitude at a surprising rate even while I watched it. NowI think that it is a new sun.”
“A—new—sun！” exclaimed Cockerlyne. “Impossible！”
“Call it what you will，” said Mequillen. “It is， I am certain， atany rate， a vast heavenly body of fire， which was travellingtowards this part of space at an inconceivable rate when I firstsaw it， and is probably at this moment nearer to us than oursun is. Do you feel that the heat is increasing？”
“Yes，” replied Cockerlyne； “but it is different in character.”
“It is different in character because the wrapping of infinitelyfine dust which has been round us has been drawn away，” saidMequillen. “But it will increase in intensity.”
Cockerlyne gripped the table.
“And？” he whispered.
“In an hour or two we shall be shrivelled up， consumed， likeshreds of wool thrown into a furnace！” answered Mequillen.
Cockerlyne straightened himself.
“All right， Dan，” he said quietly. “I’m glad I came here.
What’s to be done now？”
Mequillen had turned to a nest of drawers in one of therecesses of his study. He brought out some spectacles fittedwith lenses of very dark glass， and handed one to Cockerlyne.
“We will make an attempt to see this new sun，” he said. “Putthese spectacles on， and for the present fold that muffler aboutyour eyes again once. You’ll see through both muffler andspectacles. And now come up to the observatory.”
In the observatory， Cockerlyne understood little or nothingof the preparations which Mequillen made. Conscious onlyof the terrible heat， he stood waiting and thinking of thefate which was about to befall them； and suddenly a terribleimpatience seized upon him. If there was but an hour or so tolive， his place was with the woman he loved.
“Look here， Dan！” he exclaimed. “I’m going down！ If theend’s coming， then—”
But Mequillen laid a hand on his arm and drew him forward，at the same tune removing the muffler from his head. “We willgo down soon， Cockerlyne，” he said. “We must， for we shallhave to tell them. But first—look！ You can look with safetynow.”
And then Cockerlyne， following his friend’s instructions，looked， and saw widespread above him the dome of theheavens. But never had he so seen it in all his life. From northto south， from east to west， it glowed with the effulgence ofshining brass； and in the north-east hung a great globe of fieryred， vaster in dimension than the sun which the world hadknown till then， and， even when seen through the protectionswhich Mequillen had prepared， coruscating and glittering withdarting and leaping flame.
“My God！” said Cockerlyne， in a hushed voice. “My God！
Dan， is that—It？”
“That is It，” answered Mequillen quietly. “It is now nearlytwice the magnitude of our sun， and it is coming nearer. Thisis no time to make calculations， or even speculations； butI believe it is， at any rate， as near to us as our sun is. Comeaway， Cockerlyne； I want to look out on the world. Hold myhand and follow me.”
And he dragged Cockerlyne away through a trap-door andinto a dark passage， and then into a darker room.
“Keep your hands over your spectacles for a while， and getaccustomed to the light by degrees，” he said. “I am going toopen an observation shutter here， through which we can see avast stretch of country to the north. It will be a surprise to meif much of it is not already in flames. Now， if you are ready.”
Cockerlyne covered his eyes as he heard the click of theobservation shutter. Even then， and through the thick blackglasses which he was wearing， he felt the extraordinary glare ofthe light which entered. Presently Mequillen touched his arm.
“You can look now，” he said. “See. it’s just as I thought！ Theland’s on fire！”
Cockerlyne looked out upon the great sweep of hill andvalley， wood and common which stretches across the fairestpart of Surrey from the heights above Shere and Albury tothose beyond Reigate. He saw the little villages， with theirspires and towers and red roofs and tall grey gables； he sawthe isolated farms， the stretches of wood， the hillside coppices，the patches of heath and the expanses of green which indicatedland untouched by spade or plough.