Тень над Иннсмутом

           Fumblingintheraysofmyflashlight,IfoundIcouldopentheshutters;andinanothermomenthadclimbedoutsideandwasfullyclosingtheapertureinitsoriginalmanner.

           IwasnowinWashingtonStreet,andforthemomentsawnolivingthingnoranylightsavethatofthemoon.Fromseveraldirectionsinthedistance,however,Icouldhearthesoundofhoarsevoices,offootsteps,andofacuriouskindofpatteringwhichdidnotsoundquitelikefootsteps.PlainlyIhadnotimetolose.Thepointsofthecompasswerecleartome,andIwasgladthatallthestreetlightswereturnedoff,asisoftenthecustomonstronglymoonlitnightsinprosperousruralregions.Someofthesoundscamefromthesouth,yetIretainedmydesignofescapinginthatdirection.Therewould,Iknew,beplentyofdeserteddoorwaystosheltermeincaseImetanypersonorgroupwholookedlikepursuers.

           Iwalkedrapidly,softly,andclosetotheruinedhouses.Whilehatlessanddishevelledaftermyarduousclimb,Ididnotlookespeciallynoticeable;andstoodagoodchanceofpassingunheededifforcedtoencounteranycasualwayfarer.

           AtBatesStreetIdrewintoayawningvestibulewhiletwoshamblingfigurescrossedinfrontofme,butwassoononmywayagainandapproachingtheopenspacewhereEliotStreetobliquelycrossesWashingtonattheintersectionofSouth.ThoughIhadneverseenthisspace,ithadlookeddangeroustomeonthegroceryyouth’smap;sincethemoonlightwouldhavefreeplaythere.