The nozzle began to move, to sniff so it seemed to me, and with the sniffing I could just make out a whirring coming from inside the creature and a thumping. It began to stand up.

I stayed not a moment longer, but plunged onwards, yelling loudly, screaming, hurting, terror-turned, and hurled myself towards the rusting dome. As I ran on, a basket, surely pulled up from the heaps by the birds, rushed past me, spinning itself back in the direction I had fled, towards the creature, desperate to join it. It was not only the basket but suddenly other things were moving too, so many things were skipping about, smashing towards the mass of objects whose principal name was Robert Burrington, and Robert Burrington that great collection was growing larger and larger. I looked back, it was up again, and with great long strides hauling itself onwards, growing as it went, smashing chimney stacks as it rushed, great long hands of rakes and pistons and pipes and tubing feeling out before it and the nozzle nose bouncing to and fro in high alert and excitement, and, I think then, had not a lightning rod launched itself directly at the eager collection, and briefly felled Robert Burrington, I think I should very likely have been crushed, but it lay stunned a moment trying to make sense of this latest addition and in that moment I was beneath the dome, I was at the rusting metal staircase and had seized the railing. I began jumping and leaping downwards, screaming still, screaming all the way, and then there was the door and I was through it, somewhere high up in Heap House.

I was inside again. I could hear. I could hear myself screaming.

It won’t stop, that thing, all those things, it cannot be stopped, I thought, it’ll come down any moment, it’ll bring the whole roof with it, it can’t be stopped, the bats couldn’t stop it, it’s just growing and growing, it’ll have everything, it wants everything and everything runs to it. It knew I had James Henry and it knew I had Alice Higgs and it wanted them so badly. It shan’t be stopped. It shall never be stopped. How can things do that? How can things move on their own?

Don’t stay there, I told myself, don’t stay there by that door so close to the outside stairs. That door shall open soon, right enough, and all those objects shall come smashing in, sniffing for James Henry and Alice Higgs. Quick, quick, move yourself, the house is rumbling isn’t it, isn’t it? Is it upon the stairs now? Is it winding its way down?

On, on, Clod, to the Infirmary, give Rosamud back her handle and then, by God, get help, cry for help. Up I got, on I ran. To the Infirmary.

The Infirmary