"Well, Cash, what's the news?" 

 "We have phototelegrams from Mercury, Venus, and Mars." 

 "Are those from Mars of any interest?" 

 "Yes, indeed. There is a revolution in the Central Empire." 

 "And what of Jupiter?" asked Mr. Smith. 

 "Nothing as yet. We cannot quite understand their signals. Perhaps ours do not reach them." 

 "That's bad," exclaimed Mr. Smith, as he hurried away, not in the best of humor, toward the hall of the scientific editors. With their heads bent down over their electric computers, thirty scientific men were absorbed in transcendental calculations. The coming of Mr. Smith was like the falling of a bomb among them. 

 "Well, gentlemen, what is this I hear? No answer from Jupiter? Is it always to be thus? Come, Cooley, you have been at work now twenty years on this problem, and yet—" 

 "True enough," replied the man addressed. "Our science of optics is still very defective, and through our mile-and-three-quarter telescopes—" 

 "Listen to that, Peer," broke in Mr. Smith, turning to a second scientist. "Optical science defective! Optical science is your specialty. But," he continued, again addressing William Cooley, "failing with Jupiter, are we getting any results from the moon?" 

 "The case is no better there." 

 "This time you do not lay the blame on the science of optics. The moon is immeasurably less distant than Mars, yet with Mars our communication is fully established. I presume you will not say that you lack telescopes?" 

 "Telescopes? O no, the trouble here is about—inhabitants!" 

 "That's it," added Peer. 

 "So, then, the moon is positively uninhabited?" asked Mr. Smith. 

 "At least," answered Cooley, "on the face which she presents to us. As for the opposite side, who knows?" 

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