Тень над Иннсмутом

           AndasIlooked,acertainobjectcrossedorseemedtocrossthatdarkrectangle;burningintomybrainamomentaryconceptionofnightmarewhichwasallthemoremaddeningbecauseanalysiscouldnotshewasinglenightmarishqualityinit.

           Itwasalivingobject—thefirstexceptthedriverthatIhadseensinceenteringthecompactpartofthetown—andhadIbeeninasteadiermoodIwouldhavefoundnothingwhateverofterrorinit.Clearly,asIrealisedamomentlater,itwasthepastor;cladinsomepeculiarvestmentsdoubtlessintroducedsincetheOrderofDagonhadmodifiedtheritualofthelocalchurches.Thethingwhichhadprobablycaughtmyfirstsubconsciousglanceandsuppliedthetouchofbizarrehorrorwasthetalltiarahewore;analmostexactduplicateoftheoneMissTiltonhadshownmethepreviousevening.This,actingonmyimagination,hadsuppliednamelesslysinisterqualitiestotheindeterminatefaceandrobed,shamblingformbeneathit.Therewasnot,Isoondecided,anyreasonwhyIshouldhavefeltthatshudderingtouchofevilpseudo-memory.Wasitnotnaturalthatalocalmysterycultshouldadoptamongitsregimentalsanuniquetypeofhead-dressmadefamiliartothecommunityinsomestrangeway—perhapsastreasure-trove?

           Averythinsprinklingofrepellent-lookingyoungishpeoplenowbecamevisibleonthesidewalks—loneindividuals,andsilentknotsoftwoorthree.Thelowerfloorsofthecrumblinghousessometimesharbouredsmallshopswithdingysigns,andInoticedaparkedtruckortwoaswerattledalong.Thesoundofwaterfallsbecamemoreandmoredistinct,andpresentlyIsawafairlydeepriver-gorgeahead,spannedbyawide,iron-railedhighwaybridgebeyondwhichalargesquareopenedout.