knobs. Immediately we felt ourselves moving very slowly.

"That's right, Edmund," put in Jack again, "let us down easy; I don't
like bumps."

We expected at each instant to feel the car touch the cradle in which it
had evidently rested, but never were three mortals so mistaken. What
really did happen can better be described in the words of Will Church,
who, you will remember, had disappeared at the beginning of our singular
adventure. I got the account from him long afterwards. He had written it
out carefully and put it away in a safe, as a sort of historic document.
Here is Church's narrative, omitting the introduction, which read like a
law paper:

"When we went over from the club to Stonewall's house, I dropped behind
the others, because the four of them took up the whole width of the
sidewalk. Stonewall was talking to them, and my attention was attracted
by something uncommon in his manner. He had an indefinable carriage of
the head which suggested to me the suspicion that everything was not just
as it should be. I don't mean that I thought him crazy, or anything of
that kind, but I felt that he had some scheme in his mind to fool us.

"I bitterly repented, after things turned out as they did, that I had not
whispered a word to the others. But that would have been difficult, and,
besides, I had no idea of the seriousness of the affair. Nevertheless, I
determined to stay out of it, so that the laugh should not be on me at
any rate. Accordingly when the others entered the car I stayed outside,
and when Stonewall called me I did not answer.

"When he came out to open the roof of the shed, he did not see me in the