The Shadow Over Innsmouth | Page 9

first subconscious glance and supplied the touch of bizarre horror
was the tall tiara he wore; an almost exact duplicate of the one Miss
Tilton had shown me the previous evening. This, acting on my
imagination, had supplied namelessly sinister qualities to the
indeterminate face and robed, shambling form beneath it. There was
not, I soon decided, any reason why I should have felt that shuddering
touch of evil pseudo-memory. Was it not natural that a local mystery
cult should adopt among its regimentals an unique type of head-dress
made familiar to the community in some strange way - perhaps as
treasure-trove?
A very thin sprinkling of repellent-looking youngish people now
became visible on the sidewalks - lone individuals, and silent knots of
two or three. The lower floors of the crumbling houses sometimes
harboured small shops with dingy signs, and I noticed a parked truck or
two as we rattled along. The sound of waterfalls became more and
more distinct, and presently I saw a fairly deep river-gorge ahead,
spanned by a wide, iron-railed highway bridge beyond which a large
square opened out. As we clanked over the bridge I looked out on both
sides and observed some factory buildings on the edge of the grassy
bluff or part way down. The water far below was very abundant, and I

could see two vigorous sets of falls upstream on my right and at least
one downstream on my left. From this point the noise was quite
deafening. Then we rolled into the large semicircular square across the
river and drew up on the right-hand side in front of a tall, cupola
crowned building with remnants of yellow paint and with a half-effaced
sign proclaiming it to be the Gilman House.
I was glad to get out of that bus, and at once proceeded to check my
valise in the shabby hotel lobby. There was only one person in sight -
an elderly man without what I had come to call the "Innsmouth look" -
and I decided not to ask him any of the questions which bothered me;
remembering that odd things had been noticed in this hotel. Instead, I
strolled out on the square, from which the bus had already gone, and
studied the scene minutely and appraisingly.
One side of the cobblestoned open space was the straight line of the
river; the other was a semicircle of slant-roofed brick buildings of about
the 1800 period, from which several streets radiated away to the
southeast, south, and southwest. Lamps were depressingly few and
small - all low-powered incandescents - and I was glad that my plans
called for departure before dark, even though I knew the moon would
be bright. The buildings were all in fair condition, and included perhaps
a dozen shops in current operation; of which one was a grocery of the
First National chain, others a dismal restaurant, a drug store, and a
wholesale fish-dealer's office, and still another, at the eastward
extremity of the square near the river an office of the town's only
Industry - the Marsh Refining Company. There were perhaps ten
people visible, and four or five automobiles and motor trucks stood
scattered about I did not need to be told that this was the civic centre of
Innsmouth. Eastward I could catch blue glimpses of the harbour,
against which rose the decaying remains of three once beautiful
Georgian steeples. And toward the shore on the opposite bank of the
river I saw the white belfry surmounting what I took to be the Marsh
refinery.
For some reason or other I chose to make my first inquiries at the chain
grocery, whose personnel was not likely to be native to Innsmouth. I

found a solitary boy of about seventeen in charge, and was pleased to
note the brightness and affability which promised cheerful information.
He seemed exceptionally eager to talk, and I soon gathered that he did
not like the place, its fishy smell, or its furtive people. A word with any
outsider was a relief to him. He hailed from Arkham, boarded with a
family who came from Ipswich, and went back whenever he got a
moment off. His family did not like him to work in Innsmouth, but the
chain had transferred him there and he did not wish to give up his job.
There was, he said, no public library or chamber of commerce in
Innsmouth, but I could probably find my way about. The street I had
come down was Federal. West of that were the fine old residence
streets - Broad, Washington, Lafayette, and Adams - and east of it were
the shoreward slums. It was in these slums - along Main Street - that I
would find the old Georgian churches, but they were all long
abandoned.