Chapter 2

           ShortlybeforetenthenextmorningIstoodwithonesmallvaliseinfrontofHammond’sDrugStoreinoldMarketSquarewaitingfortheInnsmouthbus.AsthehourforitsarrivaldrewnearInoticedageneraldriftoftheloungerstootherplacesupthestreet,ortotheIdealLunchacrossthesquare.Evidentlytheticket-agenthadnotexaggeratedthedislikewhichlocalPeopleboretowardInnsmouthanditsdenizens.Inafewmomentsasmallmotor-coachofextremedecrepitudeanddirtygreycolourrattleddownStateStreet,madeaturn,anddrewupatthecurbbesideme.Ifeltimmediatelythatitwastherightone;aguesswhichthehalf-illegiblesignonthewindshield—Arkham–Innsmouth-Newburyport—soonverified.

           Therewereonlythreepassengers—dark,unkemptmenofsullenvisageandsomewhatyouthfulcast—andwhenthevehiclestoppedtheyclumsilyshambledoutandbeganwalkingupStateStreetinasilent,almostfurtivefashion.Thedriveralsoalighted,andIwatchedhimashewentintothedrugstoretomakesomepurchase.This,Ireflected,mustbetheJoeSargentmentionedbytheticket-agent;andevenbeforeInoticedanydetailstherespreadovermeawaveofspontaneousaversionwhichcouldbeneithercheckednorexplained.Itsuddenlystruckmeasverynaturalthatthelocalpeopleshouldnotwishtorideonabusownedanddrivenbythisman,ortovisitanyoftenerthanpossiblethehabitatofsuchamanandhiskinsfolk.

           WhenthedrivercameoutofthestoreIlookedathimmorecarefullyandtriedtodeterminethesourceofmyevilimpression.Hewasathin,stoop-shoulderedmannotmuchundersixfeettall,dressedinshabbybluecivilianclothesandwearingafrayedgolfcap.