Жах у музеї
Chapter 2
EverythingaboutRogersandhismuseumwassohellishlymorbidandsuggestiveofblackvistasbeyondlife! Itwasloathsometothinkofthewaxenmasterpieceofabnormalgeniuswhichmustatthisverymomentbelurkingcloseathandintheblacknessbeyondtheheavy,padlockeddoor.
AndnowsomethinghappenedwhichsentanadditionalchilldownJones’sspine,andcausedeveryhair—eventhetinygrowthonthebacksofhishands—tobristlewithavaguefrightbeyondclassification. Rogershadsuddenlystoppedscreamingandbeatinghisheadagainstthestoutplankdoor,andwasstraininguptoasittingposture,headcockedononesideasiflisteningintentlyforsomething. Allatonceasmileofdevilishtriumphoverspreadhisface,andhebeganspeakingintelligiblyagain—thistimeinahoarsewhispercontrastingoddlywithhisformerstentorianhowling.“
Listen,fool! Listenhard! Ithasheardme,andiscoming. Can’tyouhearItsplashingoutofItstankdownthereattheendoftherunway? Idugitdeep,becausetherewasnothingtoogoodforIt. Itisamphibious,youknow—yousawthegillsinthepicture. Itcametotheearthfromlead-greyYuggoth,wherethecitiesareunderthewarmdeepsea. Itcan’tstandupinthere—tootall—hastositorcrouch. Letmegetmykeys—wemustletItoutandkneeldownbeforeIt. Thenwewillgooutandfindadogorcat—orperhapsadrunkenman—togiveItthenourishmentItneeds.”
Itwasnotwhatthemadmansaid,butthewayhesaidit,thatdisorganisedJonessobadly.
