Цвет из иных миров

           Allatonceoneofthedetectivesatthewindowgaveashort,sharpgasp.Theotherslookedathim,andthenquicklyfollowedhisowngazeupwardtothepointatwhichitsidlestrayinghadbeensuddenlyarrested.Therewasnoneedforwords.Whathadbeendisputedincountrygossipwasdisputablenolonger,anditisbecauseofthethingwhicheverymanofthatpartyagreedinwhisperinglateronthatthestrangedaysarenevertalkedaboutinArkham.Itisnecessarytopremisethattherewasnowindatthathouroftheevening.Onedidarisenotlongafterward,buttherewasabsolutelynonethen.Eventhedrytipsofthelingeringhedge-mustard,greyandblighted,andthefringeontheroofofthestandingdemocrat-wagonwereunstirred.Andyetamidthattense,godlesscalmthehighbareboughsofallthetreesintheyardweremoving.Theyweretwitchingmorbidlyandspasmodically,clawinginconvulsiveandepilepticmadnessatthemoonlitclouds;scratchingimpotentlyinthenoxiousairasifjerkedbysomealienandbodilesslineoflinkagewithsubterrenehorrorswrithingandstrugglingbelowtheblackroots.

           Notamanbreathedforseveralseconds.Thenacloudofdarkerdepthpassedoverthemoon,andthesilhouetteofclutchingbranchesfadedoutmomentarily.Atthistherewasageneralcry;muffledwithawe,buthuskyandalmostidenticalfromeverythroat.Fortheterrorhadnotfadedwiththesilhouette,andinafearsomeinstantofdeeperdarknessthewatcherssawwrigglingatthattreetopheightathousandtinypointsoffaintandunhallowedradiance,tippingeachboughlikethefireofSt.