PROF. PIERSON: I keep watch at the window. From time to time I catch sight of a... Martian above the black smoke. The smoke still holds the house in its black coil, but... at length there is a hissing sound and suddenly I see a Martian mounted on his machine, spraying the air with a jet of steam, as if to dissipate the smoke. I watch in a corner as his huge metal legs nearly brush against the house. Exhausted by terror, I fall asleep... it's morning...

(QUIETLY)

Morning! Sun streams in the window. The black cloud of gas has lifted, and the scorched meadows to the north look as though a black snowstorm has passed over them.