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So, setting about it as methodically as men might smoke out a wasps nest, the Martians spread this strange stifling vapour over the Londonward country. The horns of the crescent slowly moved apart, until at last they formed a line from Hanwell to Coombe and Malden. All night through their destructive tubes advanced. Never once, after the Martian at St. Georges Hill was brought down, did they give the artillery the ghost of a chance against them.