during the time that he was on duty. Soon he began to doze.
The two figures that Hughes had seen disappearing in the distance, and which he had informed Professor Rudge were Jones and Macrae, were in fact Jones and the attendant. Not having recovered from his shaking-up of the night before, Macrae had felt no inclination to join Jones in his sport, preferring to rest quietly on his bed, where he almost at once dropped off to sleep.
Presently he rose, evidently not fully awake, and walked past the sleeping Hughes. Quietly and slowly he entered the signal-room and made direct for the instrument.
Lieut. Hughes Controlled by Martian Hypnotic Influence
When the supposed Professor Rudge came to the cliff edge, and looked down on the sea and beach, he saw no one. It was evident the two men had walked round on the shingles, one way or the other. As either way would almost immediately take them out of sight round the curving cliff, the question was, which way. As, in the absence of footmarks there was nothing to guide him, the Professor promptly turned to the right, but first glanced over the island, as if to make sure neither of them was returning to the station.
He moved much more rapidly now, as if already dissatisfied with the position, and having gone some little way, and seeing no sign of those he sought, he turned, not to retrace his steps but to ascend the cliff quickly at the place he then was, and again looked over the island. He was evidently determined that neither should return to the station without his knowledge. Seeing no one, he walked quickly across, without again descending, to a point as far on the other side of the place of his descent, and, looking over the cliff, at once saw the two young fellows. He called to Macrae.
Hearing the call Jones looked up, saw the Professor, and supposing he must be short-sighted answered, "Mr. Macrae is not with us, sir. We left him at the station."
The figure above instantly disappeared, and if Jones could have seen over the cliff edge, he would have been astonished to see the burly figure of the Professor making a pace for the station-house that he would not have given him credit for. Before the latter quite gained it, he saw through the open door of the signal-room something that seemed further to lend him wings—some one sitting at the signal-table, while Hughes was sitting outside.
Lieutenant Hughes glanced up from his book at the sound of rapid footsteps, saw the hurrying figure coming quickly toward him. The peculiar something he had before noticed in the eyes again fixed on him was no longer a mere suggestion, that left him uncertain if it were real or imaginary; it blazed forth. He literally shrank upon his chair as the other passed, and at the words addressed to him: "Sit where you are! Be powerless to rise until I give you permission!"
At the sound of the words, at that terrible glance, all power and volition seemed to ooze from him. He found he could not even will to get up from his seat.
The other had already entered the signal-room. He crossed the room toward the signaller's chair. Macrae was removing the headpiece. At the sight the Professor paused, while Macrae rose from his chair as he put down the headpiece, and swinging round, in contrast to Macrae's usual manner, with a quick lithe movement instinct with energy.
"Come here," he said, indicating the chair from which he had just risen, and speaking in a ringing level tone of assured command.
The figure before him did not move. He looked up. Their eyes met.
A Violent Contest Between the»Opposing Powers—Hughes and Macrae
On the instant of the Martian's recognizing his unexpected enemy, and that a physical contest alone could decide the mastery, his plan was laid. It was to wear down his opponent in a fight, neutralizing his greatly superior strength in one continuous struggle while he was already short of breath through running, and playing for all they were worth the points in his own favour, youth and agility.
He sprang forward, but was promptly knocked down. Scarcely seeming to touch the ground, with panther-like elasticity, he was up again and attacking. There was no pause or respite in the ferocious struggle that followed. It was a fight to kill.
To and fro the bodies swayed. Chairs and whatever happened in the way were hurled aside and smashed. The bungalow shook with the impacts of the two bodies.
The Venerian saw his enemy's plan and its danger. He regretted too late his race back from the cliff in such haste. His endeavour to save the situation threatened now to be the means of his undoing. He tried to use his superior physique to smash his opponent once for all while some breath remained. But that opponent seemed on all sides of him at once. He was like the spirit of a Fury in a body of steel wire.
Locked in a momentary hold, they hurtled through the doorway, past the terrified Hughes, and the fight was continued in the open. The Martian knew that he now fought in view of other witnesses, his kin, far off across the void. He fought as a protagonist, not for himself alone, but for all his race, whose existence also depended on the strength of his single arm. The knowledge added to an energy already super-human.
With eyes bulging, Hughes, powerless to intervene, watched the contest. It was the most frenzied duel that had ever been. He felt almost physically sick at the sight of a fight where there were neither rules nor respite.
Blows were fast and furious.
The Venerian's hope of a quick decision faded. Gasping and sobbing for breath, he felt the end was near. The indomitable invading spirit that had seized Macrae's body was driving it to victory, but not without paying the price—a price that would have lain Macrae himself helpless in the dust.
Macrae Wins
In the end his science won, his superior knowledge of the human frame, how obtained who knows? He got in a blow on the solar plexus, evidently knowing the exact spot of that ganglion, and man’s champion was down, his fight lost.
