Випадок Чарльза Декстера Варда

           Thenhewhispered,inaccentsdoublyterriblebecauseofthecrackedvoiceheused,’Damn’em,theydoeat,buttheydon’tneedto!That’stherarepart!Amonth,yousay,withoutfood?Lud,Sir,youbemodest!D’yeknow,thatwasthejokeonpooroldWhipplewithhisvirtuousbluster!Killeverythingoff,wouldhe?Why,damme,hewashalf-deafwithnoisefromOutsideandneversaworheardaughtfromthewells!Heneverdreamedtheywerethereatall!Deviltakeye,thosecursedthingshavebeenhowlingdownthereeversinceCurwenwasdoneforahundredandfifty-sevenyearsgone!’

           ButnomorethanthiscouldWillettgetfromtheyouth.Horrified,yetalmostconvincedagainsthiswill,hewentonwithhistaleinthehopethatsomeincidentmightstartlehisauditoroutofthemadcomposurehemaintained.Lookingattheyouth’sface,thedoctorcouldnotbutfeelakindofterroratthechangeswhichrecentmonthshadwrought.Truly,theboyhaddrawndownnamelesshorrorsfromtheskies.Whentheroomwiththeformulaeandthegreenishdustwasmentioned,Charlesshowedhisfirstsignofanimation.AquizzicallookoverspreadhisfaceasheheardwhatWilletthadreadonthepad,andheventuredthemildstatementthatthosenoteswereoldones,ofnopossiblesignificancetoanyonenotdeeplyinitiatedinthehistoryofmagic.But,headded,’hadyoubutknownthewordstobringupthatwhichIhadoutinthecup,youhadnotbeenheretotellmethis.