question reiterated itself in my mind, as I stood gazing perplexedly at
the phenomenon. I might have been satisfied with the supposition that,
unknowingly, I had made an instrument which was capable of receiving
wireless waves from another instrument of similar tone in or near Paris,
if I had had only the humming sounds to contend with, but the shadow
impelled me to look for the reason further than this. I glanced upward,
eagerly seeking some explanation. One star was visible through the open
skylight--Mars. Clear and bright it shone in the inky blackness framed
by the window.

Once more I climbed to the skylight, feeling that I must seek the
explanation in that direction, when my attention was suddenly turned to
the apparatus below me. The glow was slowly passing off one side of the
film. I hastily descended and examined the batteries, thinking I would
find the cause of this in a failing current, but all was apparently in
perfect order. Still the glow and shadow moved steadily off, growing
fainter every moment, until it disappeared completely.

With a sudden impulse, born of a weird and almost terrifying thought, I
bent over until my eyes were on a level with the film, then I looked
upward; the star was no longer visible from the position of the
instrument, it had risen above the frame of the window. At once I was
seized with an intense excitement; could it be possible that my
apparatus was responding to waves mysteriously projected from Mars? If
not, why had the glow and shadow faded from the film at the same instant
that Mars disappeared above the window frame?

Hoping to test this further, I endeavored to move the apparatus to a
position where Mars would again be visible, but alas, I found it much
too heavy. I felt keenly disappointed at the sudden termination of this