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- Джон Уиндем
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It
took
about
half
an
hour
to
get
back
to
the
road
again
from
the
chalk
pit
into
which
it
led
us
.
We
ran
on
farther
along
the
lower
road
Then
Susan
caught
a
glimmer
between
the
branches
to
our
right
.
The
next
turning
was
luckier
.
It
took
us
back
at
a
slant
up
the
side
of
the
hill
until
we
were
able
to
see
a
small
,
brilliantly
lit
square
of
window
half
a
mile
or
more
along
the
slope
.
Even
then
,
and
with
the
map
to
help
,
it
was
not
easy
to
find
the
lane
that
led
to
it
.
We
lurched
along
,
still
climbing
in
low
gear
,
but
each
time
we
caught
sight
of
the
window
again
it
was
a
little
closer
.
The
lane
had
not
been
designed
for
ponderous
trucks
.
In
the
narrower
parts
we
had
to
push
our
way
along
it
between
bushes
and
brambles
which
scrabbled
along
the
sides
as
though
they
tried
to
pull
us
back
.
But
at
last
there
was
a
lantern
waving
in
the
road
ahead
.
It
moved
on
,
swinging
to
show
us
the
turn
through
a
gate
.
Then
it
was
set
stationary
on
the
ground
.
I
drove
to
within
a
yard
or
two
of
it
and
stopped
.
As
I
opened
the
door
a
flashlight
shone
suddenly
into
my
eyes
.
I
had
a
glimpse
of
a
figure
behind
it
in
a
raincoat
shining
with
wetness
.
A
slight
break
marred
the
intended
calm
of
the
voice
that
spoke
.
"
Hullo
,
Bill
.
You
’
ve
been
a
long
time
.
"
I
jumped
down
.
