sprang to my feet. It was the landlord of the Spotted Dog, whose

conveyance I had taken.

I stepped over him gingerly and pushed on up the hill. I made my

way by the police station and the College Arms towards my own house.

Nothing was burning on the hillside, though from the common there

still came a red glare and a rolling tumult of ruddy smoke beating up

against the drenching hail. So far as I could see by the flashes, the

houses about me were mostly uninjured. By the College Arms a dark

heap lay in the road.

Down the road towards Maybury Bridge there were voices and the

sound of feet, but I had not the courage to shout or to go to them. I

let myself in with my latchkey, closed, locked and bolted the door,

staggered to the foot of the staircase, and sat down. My imagination

was full of those striding metallic monsters, and of the dead body

smashed against the fence.

I crouched at the foot of the staircase with my back to the wall,

shivering violently.

The War of the Worlds