Muffled sounds of possible vocal origin approached,
and at length a firm knock came at my outer door. For a moment I simply held my breath and waited. Eternities
seemed to elapse, and the nauseous fishy odor of my environment
seemed to mount suddenly and spectacularly. Then the knocking was
repeated--continuously, and with growing insistence. I knew that the
time for action had come, and forthwith drew the bolt of the northward
connecting door, bracing myself for the task of battering it open. The
knocking waxed louder, and I hoped that its volume would cover the
sound of my efforts. At last beginning my attempt, I lunged again and
again at the thin panelling with my left shoulder, heedless of shock or
pain. Finally the connecting door gave, but with such a crash that I knew
those outside must have heard. Instantly the outside knocking became
a violent battering, while keys sounded ominously in the hall doors
of the rooms on both sides of me. Rushing through the newly opened
connection, I succeeded in bolting the northerly hall door before the
lock could be turned; but even as I did so I heard the hall door of the
third room--the one from whose window I had hoped to reach the roof
below--being tried with a pass key. For an instant I felt absolute despair, since my trapping in a chamber
with no window egress seemed complete. Then, with a dazed automatism,
I made for the next connecting door and performed the blind motion of
pushing at it in an effort to get through! Sheer fortunate chance gave me my reprieve--for the connecting door
before me was not only unlocked but actually ajar. In a second I was
through, and had my right knee and shoulder against a hall door which
was visibly opening inward. My pressure took the opener off guard, for
the thing shut as I pushed, so that I could slip the well-conditioned
bolt as I had done with the other door. As I gained this respite I
heard the battering at the two other doors abate, while a confused
clatter came from the connecting door I had shielded with the bedstead. Evidently the bulk of my assailants had entered the southerly room and
were massing in a lateral attack. But at the same moment a pass key
sounded in the next door to the north, and I knew that a nearer peril
was at hand. The northward connecting door was wide open, but there was no time to
think about checking the already turning lock in the hall. All I could
do was to shut and bolt the open connecting door, as well as its mate
on the opposite side--pushing a bedstead against the one and a bureau
against the other, and moving a washstand in front of the hall door. I must, I saw, trust to such makeshift barriers to shield me till I
could get out the window and on the roof of the Paine Street block. But
even in this acute moment my chief horror was something apart from the
immediate weakness of my defenses. I was shuddering because not one
of my pursuers, despite some hideous pantings, gruntings, and subdued
barkings at odd intervals, was uttering an intelligible vocal sound! As I moved the furniture and rushed toward the windows I heard a
frightful scurrying along the corridor toward the room north of me, and
perceived that the southward battering had ceased. Plainly, most of my
opponents were about to concentrate against the feeble connecting door
which they knew must open directly on me. Outside, the moon played on
the ridge-pole of the block below, and I saw that the jump would be
desperately hazardous because of the steep surface on which I must land. The clatter at the northerly connecting door was now terrific, and
I saw that the weak panelling was beginning to splinter. Obviously,
the besiegers had brought some ponderous object into play as a
battering-ram. The bedstead, however, still held firm; so that I had at
least a faint chance of making good my escape. As I opened the window
I noticed that it was flanked by heavy velour draperies suspended from
a pole by brass rings, and also that there was a large projecting
catch for the shutters on the exterior. Seeing a possible means of
avoiding the dangerous jump, I yanked at the hangings and brought
them down, pole and all; then quickly hooking two of the rings in the
shutter catch and flinging the drapery outside. The heavy folds reached
fully to the abutting roof, and I saw that the rings and catch would
be likely to bear my weight. So, climbing out of the window and down
the improvised rope ladder, I left behind me forever the morbid and
horror-infested fabric of the Gilman House. I landed safely on the loose slates of the steep roof, and succeeded in
gaining the gaping black skylight without a slip. The place inside was
ghoulish-looking, but I was past minding such impressions and made at
once for the staircase revealed by my flashlight--after a hasty glance
at my watch, which showed the hour to be 2 A.M. The steps creaked, but
seemed tolerably sound; and I raced down past a barnlike second story
to the ground floor. The desolation was complete, and only echoes
answered my footfalls. The hallway inside was black, and when I reached the opposite end I saw
that the street door was wedged immovably shut. Resolved to try another
building, I groped my way toward the courtyard, but stopped short when
close to the doorway. For out of an opened door in the Gilman House a large crowd of doubtful
shapes was pouring--lanterns bobbing in the darkness, and horrible
croaking voices exchanging low cries in what was certainly not English. Their features were indistinguishable, but their crouching, shambling
gait was abominably repellent. And worst of all, I perceived that one
figure was strangely robed, and unmistakably surmounted by a tall tiara
of a design altogether too familiar. Again groping toward the street,
I opened a door off the hall and came upon an empty room with closely
shuttered but sashless windows. Fumbling in the rays of my flashlight,
I found I could open the shutters; and in another moment had climbed
outside and was carefully closing the aperture in its original manner. I walked rapidly, softly, and close to the ruined houses. At Bates
Street I drew into a yawning vestibule while two shambling figures
crossed in front of me, but was soon on my way again and approaching
the open space where Eliot Street obliquely crosses Washington at the
intersection of South. Though I had never seen this space, it had
looked dangerous to me on the grocery youth's map; since the moonlight
would have free play there. There was no use trying to evade it, for
any alternative course would involve detours of possibly disastrous
visibility and delaying effect. The only thing to do was to cross it
boldly and openly; imitating the typical shamble of the Innsmouth folk
as best I could, and trusting that no one--or at least no pursuer of
mine--would be there. Just how fully the pursuit was organized--and indeed, just what its
purpose might be--I could form no idea.