Тень над Иннсмутом

           So,climbingoutofthewindowanddowntheimprovisedropeladder,Ileftbehindmeforeverthemorbidandhorror-infestedfabricoftheGilmanHouse.

           Ilandedsafelyonthelooseslatesofthesteeproof,andsucceededingainingthegapingblackskylightwithoutaslip.GlancingupatthewindowIhadleft,Iobserveditwasstilldark,thoughfaracrossthecrumblingchimneystothenorthIcouldseelightsominouslyblazingintheOrderofDagonHall,theBaptistchurch,andtheCongregationalchurchwhichIrecalledsoshiveringly.Therehadseemedtobenooneinthecourtyardbelow,andIhopedtherewouldbeachancetogetawaybeforethespreadingofageneralalarm.Flashingmypocketlampintotheskylight,Isawthattherewerenostepsdown.Thedistancewasslight,however,soIclamberedoverthebrinkanddropped;strikingadustyfloorlitteredwithcrumblingboxesandbarrels.

           Theplacewasghoulish-looking,butIwaspastmindingsuchimpressionsandmadeatonceforthestaircaserevealedbymyflashlight—afterahastyglanceatmywatch,whichshewedthehourtobe2a.m.Thestepscreaked,butseemedtolerablysound;andIraceddownpastabarnlikesecondstoreytothegroundfloor.Thedesolationwascomplete,andonlyechoesansweredmyfootfalls.AtlengthIreachedthelowerhallattheendofwhichIsawafaintluminousrectanglemarkingtheruinedPaineStreetdoorway.Headingtheotherway,Ifoundthebackdooralsoopen;anddartedoutanddownfivestonestepstothegrass-growncobblestonesofthecourtyard.