The Inhabitant of the Lake and Less Welcome Tenants

'I'm not sure,' I answered. 'There's something that could be a tractor, I think—'

'That's what I thought,' agreed Tony. 'It's ahead somewhere — maybe the driver can direct us. If, of course, he's not one of that newsagent's wrong people!'

The mechanical throbbing loudened as we crossed two hills and came onto a strip of level ground fronting a long, low ridge. I was the first to reach the ridge, climb it and stand atop it. As my head rose above the ridge, I threw myself back.

On the other side lay a roughly square plain, surrounded by four ridges. The plain was about four hundred yards square, and at the opposite side was a one-story building. Apart from this the plain was totally bare, and that was what startled me most. For from that bare stretch of land rose a deafening flood of sound. Here was the source of that mechanical whirring; it throbbed overpoweringly upward, incessantly fluctuating through three notes. Behind it were other sounds; a faint bass humming which hovered on the edge of audibility, and others — whistling and high-pitched twangs which sometimes were inaudible and sometimes as loud as the whirring.

By now Tony and Frank were beside me, staring down.

'Surely it can't be coming from that hut?' Frank said. 'It's no tractor, that's certain, and a hut that size could never contain anything that'd make that row.'

'I thought it was coming from underground somewhere,' suggested Tony. 'Mining operations, maybe.'

'Whatever it is, there's that hut,' I said. 'We can ask the way there.'

Tony looked down doubtfully. 'I don't know — it might well be dangerous. You know driving over subsidence can be dangerous, and how do we know they're not working on something like that here?'

'There'd be signs if they were,' I reassured him. 'No, come on — there may be nowhere else we can ask, and there's no use keeping on in the wrong direction.'

We descended the ridge and walked perhaps twenty yards across the plain.

It was like walking into a tidal wave. The sound was suddenly all around us; the more overpowering because though it beat on us from all sides, we could not fight back — like being engulfed in jelly. I could not have stood it for long — I put my hands over my ears and yelled 'Run!' And I staggered across the plain, the sound which I could not shut out booming at me, until I reached the building on the other side.

It was a brown stone house, not a hut as we had thought. It had an arched doorway in the wall facing us, bordered by two low windows without curtains. From what we could see the room on the left was the living-room, that on the right a bedroom, but grime on the windows prevented us from seeing more, except that the rooms were unoccupied. We did not think to look in any windows at the back. The door had no bell or knocker, but Frank pounded on a panel.

There was no answer and he knocked harder. On the second knock the door swung open, revealing that it opened into the living-room. Frank looked in and called: 'Anybody at home?' Still nobody answered, and he turned back to us.

'Do you think we'd better go in?' he asked. 'Maybe we could wait for the owner, or there might be something in the house that'd direct us.'

Tony pushed past me to look. 'Hey, what — Frank, do you notice anything here? Something tells me that whoever the owner is, he isn't house-proud.'

We could see what he meant. There were wooden chairs, a table, bookcases, a ragged carpet — and all thick with dust. We hesitated a minute, waiting for someone to make a decision; then Frank entered. He stopped inside the door and pointed. Looking over his shoulder we could see there were no footprints anywhere in the dust.

We looked round for some explanation. While Frank closed the door and cut off the throbbing from outside, Tony — our bibliophile — crossed to the bookcases and looked at the spines. I noticed a newspaper on the table and idly picked it up.

'The owner must be a bit peculiar… La Strega, by Pico della Mirandola,' Tony read, ' — Discovery of Witches — The Red Dragon—hey, Revelations of Glaaki; isn't that the book the University can't get for their restricted section? Here's a diary, big one, too, but I hadn't better touch that.'

When I turned to the front page of the newspaper, I saw it was the Camside Observer. As I looked closer, I saw something which made me call the others. 'Look at this — December 8, 1930! You're right about this man being peculiar — what sort of person keeps a newspaper for twenty-eight years?'

'I'm going to look in the bedroom,' Frank declared. He knocked on the door off the living-room, and, when we came up beside him, opened it. The room was almost bare: a wardrobe, a hanging wall-mirror, and a bed, were the only furnishings. The bed, as we had expected, was empty; but the mark of a sleeping body was clearly defined, though filled with dust. We moved closer, noting the absence of footprints on the floor; and bending over the bed, I thought I saw something besides dust in the hollows left by the sleeper — something like ground glass, sparkling greenly.

'What's happened?' Tony asked in a rather frightened tone.

'Oh, probably nothing out of the ordinary,' said Frank. 'Maybe there's another entrance round the back — maybe he can't stand all the noise, whatever it is, and has a bedroom on the other side. Look, there's a door in that wall; that may be it.'

I went across and opened it, but only a very primitive lavatory lay beyond.

'Wait a minute, I think there was a door next to the bookcase,' recollected Tony. He returned to the living- room and opened the door he had noticed. As we followed him, he exclaimed: 'My God— now what?'

The fourth room was longer than any of the others, but it was the contents that had drawn Tony's exclamation. Nearest us on the bare floor was something like a television screen, about two feet across, with a blue-glass light bulb behind it, strangely distorted and with thick wires attached. Next to it another pair of wires led from a megaphone-shaped receiver. In between the opposite wall and these instruments lay a strange arrangement of crystals, induction coils, and tubes, from which wires hung at each end for possible attachment to the other appliances. The far corner of the ceiling had recently collapsed, allowing rain to drip onto a sounding-board carrying a dozen strings, a large lever and a motor connected by cogs to a plectrum-covered cylinder. Out of curiosity I crossed and plucked a string; but such a discord trembled through the board that I quickly muffled it.

'Something very funny is going on here,' Frank said. 'There's no other room, so where can he sleep? And the dust, and the newspaper — and now these things — I've never seen anything like them?'

'Why don't we look at his diary?' suggested Tony. 'It doesn't look like he'll be back, and I for one want to know what's happened here.'

So we went back into the living-room and Tony took down the heavy volume. He opened it to its last entry: December 8,1930. 'If we all try and read it, it'll take three times as long,' he said. 'You two sit down and I'll try and read you the relevant bits.' He was silent for a few minutes, then:

'Professor Arnold Hird, ex-Brichester University: never heard of him — must've been before our time.

'Ah here we are—

' 'January 3, 1930: Today moved into new house (if it can be called a house!). Noises are queer — suppose it's only because there's so much superstition about them that nobody's investigated before. Intend to make full study — meteorological conditions, &c: feel that winds blowing over ridges may vibrate and cause sounds. Tomorrow to look round, take measurements, find out if anything will interrupt sounds. Peculiar that sound seems to be deafening in certain radius, relatively faint beyond — no gradual fading.'

' 'January 4: Sleep uneasy last night — unaccustomed dreams. City on great mountain — angled streets, spiraling pillars and cones. Strange inhabitants; taller than human, scaly skin, boneless fingers, yet somehow not repulsive. Were aware of me, in fact seemed to await my arrival, but each time one approached me I awoke. Repeated several times.

' 'Progress negative. Screens on top of ridges did not interrupt sound; undiminished though little wind. Measurements — northwest ridge 423 yards?' Well, there's a lot more like that.'

'Make sure you don't miss anything important,' Frank said as Tony turned pages.

' 'January 6: Dreams again. Same city, figures as though waiting. Leader approached. Seemed to be communicating with me telepathically: I caught the thought—Do not be afraid; we are the sounds. Whole scene faded.