And then， standing there in the strange all-wrapping fogin his quiet garden on the slope of the peaceful Surrey hills，Mequillen’s thoughts turned to the great city lying only afew miles away. What was happening in London？ He saw，with small exercise of imagination， the congested traffic， thediscomfort， the inconvenience， the upsetting of all arrangementand order in an ordinary fog. What， then， must be the effect ofthis extraordinary one？ For Mequillen was sufficiently versedin science to know that the world had never—never， at anyrate， since historical records of it began—known such a day asthis. And supposing it lasted， supposing—
And then he interrupted his train of thought to glance oncemore at the thermometer.
“Yes， yes！” he， muttered to himself. “Yes， but supposing theheat goes on increasing， increasing as it’s increased during thelast few hours？ My God， it’s awful to contemplate！”
The house was very quiet when the frightened servants hadleft it. Mequillen and his sister made some attempt to eat thelunch which the housekeeper prepared； but the attempt wasa farce， and presently they found themselves pacing up anddown， from room to room， from house to garden， waiting forthey knew not what. There was no change in the atmosphere，so far as the fog was concerned， but the thermometer rosesteadily， until at six o’clock at night it was at ninety， andthey were feeling as if they must soon gasp for breath. And，unknown to Addie， Mequillen went to the telephone， andeventually got into communication with Dick Cockerlyne， whowas still at his city office.
“Dick！” he said as steadily as he could. “Are you still there？”
“I am，” came back the answer， in tones that Mequillen couldscarcely recognise.
“How is it with you there？”
One word came along. Mequillen felt it to be the only wordthat could come.
“Hell！”
Mequillen shivered， and again spoke.
“Dick， what is happening？ What—”
And then he was sharply rung off. From that moment hehad no further communication with the outer world. Oncetwice—thrice he tried the telephone again before midnight； noresponse was given. And all around the house a silence reignedwhich was like the silence of a deserted ocean. Nothing butthe fog was there—not a voice， even of fear or terror， came upfrom the valley. And the heat went on steadily increasing.
There was no sleep for Mequillen or his sister or thehousekeeper that night. They had all changed into the lightestsummer garments they could find， by the middle of the nightthe two women were lying prostrate with exhaustion， andthe thermometer was a long way over one hundred degrees.
Mequillen did all that knowledge could suggest to him to obtainrelief and coolness for them， but there was no air—the atmospherewas still， lifeless， leaden. And when the morning came the allenvelopingfog was still there， and the heat was still increasing.
How they got through that second day Mequillen neverknew. He had visions of what might be going on in placeswhere the water supply was bad. He， fortunately， was incommand of a splendid and probably inexhaustible supply；he had， too， a well-stocked larder and a well-provided cellarof good wine. Only just able to crawl about， he looked to thetwo women—the housekeeper， a woman of full habit， wasmore than once on the verge of collapse； Addie’s wiriness andexcellent physique kept her going. But as it grew to the secondmidnight they were all gasping for breath， and Mequillen，making brave efforts to keep the women alive， knew thatbefore many hours were over all would be over with them too.
And then， as he lay stretched out in a lounging-chair， anxiouslywatching his sister who lay on a sofa close by， the door waspushed open， and Dick Cockerlyne， reeling like a drunkenman， staggered in， and dropped headlong at Mequillen’s side.
II. The Refugee
Mequillen summoned up what strength remained in him， andset himself with clenched teeth and fierce resolution to bringCockerlyne round. Cockerlyne was a big man， a fellow of brawnand muscle， that in ordinary times would have thought nothingof walking fifty miles on end， if need arose； now， looking at hisgreat limbs， scarcely hidden by the thin silk shirt and flanneltrousers which clothed them， Mequillen saw that he was wastedas if he had undergone starvation. His face had aged by tenyears， and there was a look of horror in its lines and in his halfopeneyes which told of human fear and terror. And once moreMequillen wondered what was going on in London.
As he poured liquid—a weak mixture of brandy-andseltzer—down the fallen man’s throat， Mequillen glanced athis sister. She had paid no attention whatever to Cockerlyne’sentrance； she lay motionless， her hands clasped across herbosom， slowly and regularly gasping for breath.
But Mequillen knew what would rouse her， for she andCockerlyne had been engaged for the past six months， andwere about to be married， and one great source of her anxietyduring the past two days had been in her fears for his safety.
And as he saw Cockerlyne returning to consciousness， heturned to her.
“Addie！” he whispered. “Here is Dick！”
The girl slowly opened her eyes and turned her head， anda faint flush came into her white cheeks. Mequillen reachedacross， and handed her a glass out of which he had been givingher liquid food at intervals during the past hour.
“Drink that， and then get up and help me with him，” he said.
Cockerlyne opened his eyes to the full at last， and saw thebrother and sister， and he struggled up from the floor.
“I got through， anyway，” he said. “I thought that if we—areall going to—to die， eh？—I’d see Addie first. I—have I beenfainting， Dan？”
“Lie down again， Addie， this instant！” commanded Mequillensharply. “Now then， Dick， drink the rest of that brandy-andseltzer，and then you shall have some of this concentrated meatextract. No nonsense， now.
What we’ve all got to do is to keep up strength till this—passes. I’m off to our housekeeper. I forbid you two to moveor to speak until I come back.”
