Chapter 7

           Itwasagentledaylightrainthatawakedmefrontmystuporinthebrush-grownrailwaycut,andwhenIstaggeredouttotheroadwayaheadIsawnotraceofanyprintsinthefreshmud.Thefishyodour,too,wasgone,Innsmouth’sruinedroofsandtopplingsteeplesloomedupgreylytowardthesoutheast,butnotalivingcreaturedidIspyinallthedesolatesaltmarshesaround.Mywatchwasstillgoing,andtoldmethatthehourwaspastnoon.

           TherealityofwhatIhadbeenthroughwashighlyuncertaininmymind,butIfeltthatsomethinghideouslayinthebackground.Imustgetawayfromevil-shadowedInnsmouth—andaccordinglyIbegantotestmycramped,weariedpowersoflocomotion.Despiteweaknesshunger,horror,andbewildermentIfoundmyselfafteratimeabletowalk;sostartedslowlyalongthemuddyroadtoRowley.BeforeeveningIwasinvillage,gettingamealandprovidingmyselfwithpresentableclothes.IcaughtthenighttraintoArkham,andthenextdaytalkedlongandearnestlywithgovernmentofficialsthere;aprocessIlaterrepeatedinBoston.Withthemainresultofthesecolloquiesthepublicisnowfamiliar—andIwish,fornormality’ssake,therewerenothingmoretotell.Perhapsitismadnessthatisovertakingme—yetperhapsagreaterhorror—oragreatermarvel—isreachingout.

           Asmaywellbeimagined,Igaveupmostoftheforeplannedfeaturesoftherestofmytour—thescenic,architectural,andantiquariandiversionsonwhichIhadcountedsoheavily.