2. The Wonderful Road

by H.G. Wells

　　Section 1

　　For a time Mr. Barnstaple's attention was very unequally dividedbetween the Limousine, whose passengers were now descending, and thescenery about him. This latter was indeed so strange and beautifulthat it was only as people who must be sharing his admiration andamazement and who therefore might conceivably help to elucidateand relieve his growing and quite overwhelming perplexity, thatthe little group ahead presently arose to any importance in hisconsciousness.

　　The road itself instead of being the packed together pebbles anddirt smeared with tar with a surface of grit, dust, and animalexcrement, of a normal English high road, was apparently made ofglass, clear in places as still water and in places milky oropalescent, shot with streaks of soft colour or glittering richlywith clouds of embedded golden flakes. It was perhaps twelve orfifteen yards wide. On either side was a band of greensward, of afiner grass than Mr. Barnstaple had ever seen before--and he was anexpert and observant mower of lawns--and beyond this a wide borderof flowers. Where Mr. Barnstaple sat agape in his car and perhapsfor thirty yards in either direction this border was a mass of someunfamiliar blossom of forget-me-not blue. Then the colour was brokenby an increasing number of tall, pure white spikes that finallyousted the blue altogether from the bed. On the opposite side of theway these same spikes were mingled with masses of plants bearingseed-pods equally strange to Mr. Barnstaple, which varied through aseries of blues and mauves and purples to an intense crimson. Beyondthis gloriously coloured foam of flowers spread flat meadows onwhich creamy cattle were grazing. Three close at hand, a littlestartled perhaps by Mr. Barnstaple's sudden apparition, chewed thecud and regarded him with benevolently speculative eyes. They hadlong horns and dewlaps like the cattle of South Europe and India.From these benign creatures Mr. Barnstaple's eyes went to a longline of flame-shaped trees, to a colonnade of white and gold, andto a background of snow-clad mountains. A few tall, white cloudswere sailing across a sky of dazzling blue. The air impressed Mr.Barnstaple as being astonishingly clear and sweet.

　　Except for the cows and the little group of people standing by theLimousine Mr. Barnstaple could see no other living creature. Themotorists were standing still and staring about them. A sound ofquerulous voices came to him.

　　A sharp crepitation at his back turned Mr. Barnstaple's attentionround. By the side of the road in the direction from whichconceivably he had come were the ruins of what appeared to be avery recently demolished stone house. Beside it were two largeapple trees freshly twisted and riven, as if by some explosion,and out of the centre of it came a column of smoke and this soundof things catching fire. And the contorted lines of these shatteredapple trees helped Mr. Barnstaple to realize that some of theflowers by the wayside near at hand were also bent down to one sideas if by the passage of a recent violent gust of wind. Yet he hadheard no explosion nor felt any wind.

　　He stared for a time and then turned as if for an explanation tothe Limousine. Three of these people were now coming along the roadtowards him, led by a tall, slender, grey-headed gentleman in afelt hat and a long motoring dust-coat. He had a small upturnedface with a little nose that scarce sufficed for the springs of hisgilt glasses. Mr. Barnstaple restarted his engine and drove slowlyto meet them.

　　As soon as he judged himself within hearing distance he stopped andput his head over the side of the Yellow Peril with a question. Atthe same moment the tall, grey-headed gentleman asked practicallythe same question: "Can you tell me at all, sir, where we _are_?"

　　Section 2

　　"Five minutes ago," said Mr. Barnstaple, "I should have said we wereon the Maidenhead Road. Near Slough."

　　"Exactly!" said the tall gentleman in earnest, argumentative tones."Exactly! And I maintain that there is not the slightest reason forsupposing that we are not still on the Maidenhead Road."

　　The challenge of the dialectician rang in his voice.

　　"It doesn't _look_ like the Maidenhead Road," said Mr. Barnstaple.

　　"Agreed! But are we to judge by appearances or are we to judge bythe direct continuity of our experience? The Maidenhead Road led tothis, was in continuity with this, and therefore I hold that thisis the Maidenhead Road."

　　"Those mountains?" considered Mr. Barnstaple.

　　"Windsor Castle ought to be there," said the tall gentleman brightlyas if he gave a point in a gambit.

　　"_Was_ there five minutes ago," said Mr. Barnstaple.

　　"Then obviously those mountains are some sort of a camouflage," saidthe tall gentleman triumphantly, "and the whole of this businessis, as they say nowadays, a put-up thing."

　　"It seems to be remarkably well put up," said Mr. Barnstaple.

　　Came a pause during which Mr. Barnstaple surveyed the tallgentleman's companions. The tall gentleman he knew perfectly well.He had seen him a score of times at public meetings and publicdinners. He was Mr. Cecil Burleigh, the great Conservative leader.He was not only distinguished as a politician; he was eminentas a private gentleman, a philosopher and a man of universalintelligence. Behind him stood a short, thick-set, middle-agedyoung man, unknown to Mr. Barnstaple, the natural hostility ofwhose appearance was greatly enhanced by an eye-glass. The thirdmember of the little group was also a familiar form, but for a timeMr. Barnstaple could not place him. He had a clean-shaven, round,plump face and a well-nourished person and his costume suggestedeither a High Church clergyman or a prosperous Roman Catholicpriest.

　　The young man with the eye-glass now spoke in a kind of impotentfalsetto. "I came down to Taplow Court by road not a month agoand there was certainly nothing of this sort on the way then."

　　"I admit there are difficulties," said Mr. Burleigh with gusto."I admit there are considerable difficulties. Still, I venture tothink my main proposition holds."

　　"_You_ don't think this is the Maidenhead Road?" said the gentlemanwith the eye-glass flatly to Mr. Barnstaple.

　　"It seems too perfect for a put-up thing," said Mr. Barnstaple witha mild obstinacy.

　　"But, my dear Sir!" protested Mr. Burleigh, "this road is _notorious_for nursery seedsmen and sometimes they arrange the most astonishingdisplays. As an advertisement."

　　"Then why don't we go straight on to Taplow Court now?" asked thegentleman with the eye-glass.

　　"Because," said Mr. Burleigh, with the touch of asperity naturalwhen one has to insist on a fact already clearly known, andobstinately overlooked, "Rupert insists that we are in some otherworld. And won't go on. That is why. He has always had too muchimagination. He thinks that things that don't exist _can_ exist.And now he imagines himself in some sort of scientific romance andout of our world altogether. In another dimension. I sometimes thinkit would have been better for all of us if Rupert had taken towriting romances--instead of living them. If you, as his secretary,think that you will be able to get him on to Taplow in time forlunch with the Windsor people--"

　　Mr. Burleigh indicated by a gesture ideas for which he found wordsinadequate.

　　Mr. Barnstaple had already noted a slow-moving, intent,sandy-complexioned figure in a grey top hat with a black band thatthe caricaturists had made familiar, exploring the flowery tanglebeside the Limousine. This then must be no less well-known personthan Rupert Catskill, the Secretary of State for War.

　　For once Mr. Barnstaple found himself in entire agreement withthis all too adventurous politician. This _was_ another world. Mr.Barnstaple got out of his car and addressed himself to Mr. Burleigh."I think we may get a lot of light upon just where we are, Sir,if we explore this building which is burning here close at hand.I thought just now that I saw a figure lying on the slope closebehind it. If we could catch one of the hoaxers--"

　　He left his sentence unfinished because he did not believe for amoment that they were being hoaxed. Mr. Burleigh had fallen verymuch in his opinion in the last five minutes.

　　All four men turned their faces to the smoking ruin.

　　"It's a very extraordinary thing that there isn't a soul in sight,"remarked the eye-glass gentleman searching the horizon.

　　"Well, I see no harm whatever in finding out what is burning," saidMr. Burleigh and led the way, upholding an intelligent, anticipatoryface, towards the wrecked house between the broken trees.

　　But before he had gone a dozen paces the attention of the littlegroup was recalled to the Limousine by a loud scream of terrorfrom the lady who had remained seated therein.

　　Section 3

　　"Really this is too much!" cried Mr. Burleigh with a note ofgenuine exasperation. "There must surely be police regulations toprevent this kind of thing."

　　"It's out of some travelling menagerie," said the gentleman withthe eye-glass. "What ought we to do?"

　　"It looks tame," said Mr. Barnstaple, but without any impulse toput his theory to the test.

　　"It might easily frighten people very seriously," said Mr. Burleigh.And lifting up a bland voice he shouted: "Don't be alarmed, Stella!It's probably quite tame and harmless. Don't _irritate_ it with thatsunshade. It might fly at you. Stel-_la_!"

　　"It" was a big and beautifully marked leopard which had come verysoftly out of the flowers and sat down like a great cat in themiddle of the glass road at the side of the big car. It was blinkingand moving its head from side to side rhythmically, with anexpression of puzzled interest, as the lady, in accordance with thebest traditions of such cases, opened and shut her parasol at it asrapidly as she could. The chauffeur had taken cover behind the car.Mr. Rupert Catskill stood staring, knee-deep in flowers, apparentlyonly made aware of the creature's existence by the same scream thathad attracted the attention of Mr. Burleigh and his companions.

　　Mr. Catskill was the first to act, and his act showed his mettle.It was at once discreet and bold. "Stop flopping that sunshade, LadyStella," he said. "Let me--I will--catch its eye."

　　He made a detour round the car so as to come face to face with theanimal. Then for a moment he stood, as it were displaying himself,a resolute little figure in a grey frock coat and a black-bandedtop hat. He held out a cautious hand, not too suddenly for fear ofstartling the creature. "Poossy!" he said.

　　The leopard, relieved by the cessation of Lady Stella's sunshade,regarded him with interest and curiosity. He drew closer. Theleopard extended its muzzle and sniffed.

　　"If it will only let me stroke it," said Mr. Catskill, and camewithin arm's length.

　　The beast sniffed the extended hand with an expression ofincredulity. Then with a suddenness that sent Mr. Catskill backseveral paces, it sneezed. It sneezed again much more violently,regarded Mr. Catskill reproachfully for a moment and then leaptlightly over the flower-bed and made off in the direction ofthe white and golden colonnade. The grazing cattle in the field,Mr. Barnstaple noted, watched its passage without the slightestsign of dismay.

　　Mr. Catskill remained in a slightly expanded state in the middleof the road. "No animal," he remarked, "can stand up to thesteadfast gaze of the human eye. Not one. It is a riddle for yourmaterialist.... Shall we join Mr. Cecil, Lady Stella? He seems tohave found something to look at down there. The man in the littleyellow car may know where he is. Hm?"

　　He assisted the lady to get out of the car and the two came on afterMr. Barnstaple's party, which was now again approaching the burninghouse. The chauffeur, evidently not wishing to be left alone withthe Limousine in this world of incredible possibilities, followedas closely as respect permitted.