My philosophy is full of bizarre
concepts, and when the mind gets worn out it cooks up all sorts of
imaginary concrete applications. I shall take a rest from now on--you
probably won't see me for some time, and you needn't blame Asenath for
it. "This trip was a bit queer, but it's really very simple. There are
certain Indian relics in the north woods--standing stones, and all
that--which mean a good deal in folklore, and Asenath and I are
following that stuff up. It was a hard search, so I seem to have gone
off my head. I must send somebody for the car when I get home. A
month's relaxation will put me on my feet." I do not recall just what my own part of the conversation was, for the
baffling alienage of my seatmate filled all my consciousness. With
every moment my feeling of elusive cosmic horror increased, till at
length I was in a virtual delirium of longing for the end of the drive. Derby did not offer to relinquish the wheel, and I was glad of the
speed with which Portsmouth and Newburyport flashed by. At the junction where the main highway runs inland and avoids
Innsmouth, I was half afraid my driver would take the bleak shore road
that goes through that damnable place. He did not, however, but darted
rapidly past Rowley and Ipswich toward our destination. We reached
Arkham before midnight, and found the lights still on at the old
Crowninshield house. Derby left the car with a hasty repetition of his
thanks, and I drove home alone with a curious feeling of relief. It had
been a terrible drive--all the more terrible because I could not quite
tell why--and I did not regret Derby's forecast of a long absence from
my company. 5


The next two months were full of rumors. People spoke of seeing Derby
more and more in his new energized state, and Asenath was scarcely
ever in to her callers. I had only one visit from Edward, when he
called briefly in Asenath's car--duly reclaimed from wherever he had
left it in Maine--to get some books he had lent me. He was in his new
state, and paused only long enough for some evasively polite remarks. It was plain that he had nothing to discuss with me when in this
condition--and I noticed that he did not even trouble to give the old
three-and-two signal when ringing the door-bell. As on that evening
in the car, I felt a faint, infinitely deep horror which I could not
explain; so that his swift departure was a prodigious relief. In mid-September Derby was away for a week, and some of the decadent
college set talked knowingly of the matter--hinting at a meeting
with a notorious cult-leader, lately expelled from England, who had
established head-quarters in New York. For my part I could not get
that strange ride from Maine out of my head. The transformation I had
witnessed had affected me profoundly, and I caught myself again and
again trying to account for the thing--and for the extreme horror it
had inspired in me. But the oddest rumors were those about the sobbing in the old
Crowninshield house. The voice seemed to be a woman's, and some of the
younger people thought it sounded like Asenath's. It was heard only
at rare intervals, and would sometimes be choked off as if by force. There was talk of an investigation, but this was dispelled one day when
Asenath appeared in the streets and chatted in a sprightly way with a
large number of acquaintances--apologizing for her recent absence and
speaking incidentally about the nervous breakdown and hysteria of a
guest from Boston. The guest was never seen, but Asenath's appearance
left nothing to be said. And then someone complicated matters by
whispering that the sobs had once or twice been in a man's voice. One evening in mid-October I heard the familiar three-and-two ring at
the front door. Answering it myself, I found Edward on the steps, and
saw in a moment that his personality was the old one which I had not
encountered since the day of his ravings on that terrible ride from
Chesuncook. His face was twitching with a mixture of odd emotions
in which fear and triumph seemed to share dominion, and he looked
furtively over his shoulder as I closed the door behind him. Following me clumsily to the study, he asked for some whisky to
steady his nerves. I forbore to question him, but waited till he felt
like beginning whatever he wanted to say. At length he ventured some
information in a choking voice. "Asenath has gone, Dan. We had a long talk last night while the
servants were out, and I made her promise to stop preying on me. Of
course I had certain--certain occult defenses I never told you about. She had to give in, but got frightfully angry. Just packed up and
started for New York--walked right out to catch the 8:20 in to Boston. I suppose people will talk, but I can't help that. You needn't mention
that there was any trouble--just say she's gone on a long research trip. "She's probably going to stay with one of her horrible groups of
devotees. I hope she'll go west and get a divorce--anyhow, I've made
her promise to keep away and let me alone. It was horrible, Dan--she
was stealing my body--crowding me out--making a prisoner of me. I lay
low and pretended to let her do it, but I had to be on the watch. I
could plan if I was careful, for she can't read my mind literally, or
in detail. All she could read of my planning was a sort of general mood
of rebellion--and she always thought I was helpless. Never thought I
could get the best of her ... but I had a spell or two that worked." Derby looked over his shoulder and took some more whisky. "I paid off those damned servants this morning when they got back. They were ugly about it, and asked questions, but they went. They're
her kind--Innsmouth people--and were hand and glove with her. I hope
they'll let me alone--I didn't like the way they laughed when they
walked away. I must get as many of Dad's old servants again as I can. I'll move back home now. "I suppose you think I'm crazy, Dan--but Arkham history ought to hint
at things that back up what I've told you--and what I'm going to tell
you. You've seen one of the changes, too--in your car after I told you
about Asenath that day coming home from Maine. That was when she got
me--drove me out of my body. The last thing I remember was when I was
all worked up trying to tell you _what that she-devil is_. Then she
got me, and in a flash I was back at the house--in the library where
those damned servants had me locked up--and in that cursed fiend's
body ... that isn't even human.... You know it was she you must have
ridden home with--that preying wolf in my body--you ought to have known
the difference!" *       *       *       *       *

I shuddered as Derby paused. Surely, I _had_ known the difference--yet
could I accept an explanation as insane as this? But my distracted
caller was growing even wilder. "I had to save myself--I had to, Dan! She'd have got me for good at
Hallowmass--they hold a Sabbat up there beyond Chesuncook, and the
sacrifice would have clinched things.