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His
voice
tried
for
hard
emphasis
and
overshot
into
stridency
.
This
was
the
man
I
'd
told
first
,
hoping
to
enlist
his
credibility
.
What
a
balls-up
.
"
Of
course
it
's
a
lie
,
"
Brown
agreed
.
"
It
's
lunacy
.
Where
do
you
suppose
those
tentacles
came
from
,
Mr.
Drayton
?
"
"
I
do
n't
know
,
and
at
this
point
,
that
's
not
even
a
very
important
question
.
They
're
here
.
There
's
-
"
"
I
suspect
they
came
out
of
a
few
of
those
beer
cans
.
That
's
what
I
suspect
.
"
This
got
some
appreciative
laughter
.
It
was
silenced
by
the
strong
,
rusty-hinge
voice
of
Mrs.
Carmody
.
"
Death
!
"
she
cried
,
and
those
who
had
been
laughing
quickly
sobered
.
She
marched
into
the
center
of
the
rough
circle
that
had
formed
,
her
canary
pants
seeming
to
give
off
a
light
of
their
own
,
her
huge
purse
swinging
against
one
elephantine
thigh
.
Her
black
eyes
glanced
arrogantly
around
,
as
sharp
and
balefully
sparkling
as
a
magpie
's
.
Two
good-looking
girls
of
about
sixteen
with
CAMP
WOODLANDS
written
on
the
back
of
their
white
rayon
shirts
shrank
away
from
her
.
"
You
listen
but
you
do
n't
hear
!
You
hear
but
you
do
n't
believe
!
Which
one
of
you
wants
to
go
outside
and
see
for
himself
?
"
Her
eyes
swept
them
,
and
then
fell
on
me
.
"
And
just
what
do
you
propose
to
do
about
it
,
Mr.
David
Drayton
?
What
do
you
think
you
can
do
about
it
?
"
She
grinned
,
skull-like
above
her
canary
outfit
.
"
It
's
the
end
,
I
tell
you
.
The
end
of
everything
.
It
's
the
Last
Times
.
The
moving
finger
has
writ
,
not
in
fire
,
but
in
lines
of
mist
.
The
earth
has
opened
and
spewed
forth
its
abominations
-
"
