The capitals of the globe—and also the less important towns, and even the humbler villages—were, as a rule, waiting for the result in a paroxysm of terror. The newspapers took care that the exact moment corresponding to midnight at Kilimanjaro should be thoroughly¹ well known.  
The Sun travels a degree in four minutes, and the times given by the newspapers for some of the cities was as follows:—
 
Berlin 11.20 a.m.
Constantinople 11.26 a.m.
London 9.30 a.m.
Madrid 9.15 a.m.
Paris 9.40 a.m.
St. Petersburg 11.31 a.m.
Rome 10.20 a.m.
Calcutta 3. 4 p.m.
Nanking 5. 5 p.m.
At Baltimore, as we are aware, twelve hours after the passage of the Sun on the meridian² of Kilimanjaro, it would be 5.24 p.m.
 
We need not enlarge on the agony of these moments. The most powerful pen of modern times would be helpless to describe them.
 
That the inhabitants of Baltimore ran no danger of being swept away by the rising sea may be very true! That they would not see Chesapeake Bay empty itself, and Cape³ Hatteras at the end become a mountain crest⁴ above the dried Atlantic, is agreed! But the city, like many others not menaced with emersion or immersion⁵, might be shattered by the shock, its monuments thrown down, and its streets engulphed in the abysses that might open in the ground! And was there not a justification⁶ for fearing for those other parts of the world which would never survive the displacement⁷ of the waters?
 
Why, certainly!
 
And so every human being in that city felt a cold shiver in the spinal⁸ marrow⁹ during that fatal minute. Yes! all trembled with terror—but one! And that one was Sulphuric Alcide, who was quietly sipping¹⁰ a cup of hot coffee as if he and the old world would last for ever.
 
5.24 p.m., answering to Kilimanjaro midnight, passed.
 
At Baltimore—nothing occurred!
 
131At London, Berlin, Paris, Rome, Constantinople—nothing! Not the least shock!
 
Professor Milne, in the coal-pit at Kagoshima, in Japan, gazed steadily¹¹ at the tromometer, and saw not the least abnormal movement in the crust of the Earth in that part of the world.
 
At Baltimore there was no sign of any disturbance¹² whatsoever¹³. The sky was cloudy, and when the night came it was impossible to see if the apparent movement of the stars had changed—which would, of course, have indicated a change in the Earth’s axis¹⁴.
 
What a night did J. T. Maston pass in his retreat, unknown to all save Mrs. Scorbitt! He raged! He raved¹⁶! He could not keep still. Would that he had been a few days older, to see if the curve of the Sun was modified—an indisputable proof of the success of the operation. On the 23rd the change would not be noticeable, for on that day the Sun invariably rises due east in every country of the globe.
 
In the morning the Sun rose just as usual.
 
Major Donellan and his friends were on the terrace of their hotel. They had furnished themselves with instruments of extreme precision, which would show if the Sun described its curve in the plane of the Equator.
 
There was nothing to show that it did; and a few minutes after it had risen the radiant disc inclined towards the southern hemisphere.
 
There was no change in its apparent path.
 
The Major and his colleagues expressed their delight by giving three cheers for the Sun.
 
The sky was superb, the horizon quite clear from the mists of the night, and never did the glorious orb¹⁵ present himself under greater conditions of splendour before a wondering people.
 
“And in the very place noted¹⁷ by the laws of astronomy!” said Baldenak.
 
“Of our old astronomy,” said Karkof, “which these madmen attempted to annihilate¹⁸!”
 
“To their cost and shame,” said Jansen.
 
“And the Arctic regions will remain under their eternal ice!” said Professor Harald.
 
“Hurrah¹⁹ for the Sun!” shouted Donellan. “He is good enough for us as he is!”
 
“Hurrah! hurrah!” said the others on the balcony.
 
Then it was that Todrin, who had said nothing, remarked judiciously²⁰, “Perhaps they have not fired!”
 
“Not fired?” ejaculated the Major aghast.
 
And that, with a different intonation²¹, was what J. T. Maston and Mrs. Scorbitt said.
 
“Not fired?”
 
And that was what the wise and the foolish were asking; and it was what Alcide Pierdeux said, adding,—
 
“Whether they fired or no, it does not matter! The Earth will still spin on its old axis!”
 
No one knew what had passed at Kilimanjaro; but before the end of the day an answer was given to the question that puzzled humanity.
 
There was a telegram from Zanzibar:—
 
“To John S. Wright, Washington, U.S.A.
 
“Zanzibar, 23rd September, 7.27 a.m., local time. Discharge took place at midnight from cannon²² on southern side of Kilimanjaro. Projectile²³ tra............