Before his mind was yet clear a dark shape gripped his arm.  “This way,” said this shape, urging him along, and pointed Graham across the flat roof in the direction of a dim semicircular haze of light.  Graham obeyed.

“Mind!” said a voice, as Graham stumbled against a cable.  “Between them and not across them,” said the voice.  And, “We must hurry.”

“Where are the people?” said Graham.  “The people you said awaited me?”

The stranger did not answer.  He left Graham’s arm as the path grew narrower, and led the way with rapid strides.  Graham followed blindly.  In a minute he found himself running.  “Are the others coming?” he panted, but received no reply.  His companion glanced back and ran on.  They came to a sort of pathway of open metal-work, transverse to the direction they had come, and they turned aside to follow this.  Graham looked back, but the snowstorm had hidden the others.

“Come on!” said his guide.  Running now, they drew near a little windmill spinning high in the air.  “Stoop,” said Graham’s guide, and they avoided an endless band running roaring up to the shaft of the vane.  “This way!” and they were ankle deep in a gutter full of drifted thawing snow, between two low walls of metal that presently rose waist high.  “I will go first,” said the guide.  Graham drew his cloak about him and followed.  Then suddenly came a narrow abyss across which the gutter leapt to the snowy darkness of the further side.  Graham peeped over the side once and the gulf was black.  For a moment he regretted his flight.  He dared not look again, and his brain spun as he waded through the half liquid snow.

Then out of the gutter they clambered and hurried across a wide flat space damp with thawing snow, and for half its extent dimly translucent to lights that went to and fro underneath.  He hesitated at this unstable looking substance, but his guide ran on unheeding, and so they came to and clambered up slippery steps to the rim of a great dome of glass.  Round this they went.  Far below a number of people seemed to be dancing, and music filtered through the dome....  Graham fancied he heard a shouting through the snowstorm, and his guide hurried him on with a new spurt of haste.  They clambered panting to a space of huge windmills, one so vast that only the lower edge of its vanes came rushing into sight and rushed up again and was lost in the night and the snow.  They hurried for a time through the colossal metallic tracery of its supports, and came at last above a place of moving platforms like the place into which Graham had looked from the balcony.  They crawled across the sloping transparency that covered this street of platforms, crawling on hands and knees because of the slipperiness of the snowfall.