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'That's none of my business。' Kline's smile was sly。 'Oh no？ I'm an extremely aware person； Halloran； and it isn't hard for me to sniff out something going on under my nose。 I don't mind you having your fun as long as you remember who Cora belongs to。'
'Belongs to？ You're talking as if you own her； body and soul。' Kline turned away； still smiling。 He squinted into the low white mist； as if to pierce it。 The trees and slopes were faded along the lake's edge； the haziness of the sky belying the sharpness of the early morning air。
'Can you feel the weight of the water beneath us？' Kline suddenly asked； still looking away from the other man。 'Can't you feel the pressure underneath these thin wooden boards； as if all that liquid down there； all the slime and murkiness that lies on the bottom of the lake； wants to break through and suck us down？ Can you sense that； Halloran？' He almost said no； a total rejection of the notion。 But then Halloran began to feel the potency beneath his feet； as if the water there really could exert itself upwards； could creep through those tight cracks between the boards like some glutinous absorbing substance。 Kline's suggestion had somehow turned the lake into something less passive。 Halloran shifted unfortably on the rowing bench。
A ripple in the lake caused the boat to sway。
Kline's attention was on him once more and his voice was low in pitch； less excitable； when he spoke。 'Look over the side； look into the lake。 Notice how silky is its skin beneath this mist； and how clear。 But how far can you see into the denseness below？ e on； Halloran； take a peek。' Although reluctant； Halloran did so。 No big deal； he told himself； no reason to be churlish。 He saw his own shadow on the lake。
'Keep watching the water；' came Kline's quiet voice。 'Watch how it swells and falls； as soft as anything you could ever wish to touch。 Look into your own shadow； how dark it makes the water。 Yet somehow the darkness allows you to see more。 Arid what if the whole lake was shadowed？ What depths could you perceive then？' Halloran was only aware of the blackness of his own reflection。 But the blackness was spreading； widening in tranquil undulations； forcing away the mist as it grew。 Kline's voice coaxed him to keep his eyes fixed on the lapping water； not even to blink lest that merest of movements disturb the placid surface； to stare into the darkness until his thoughts could be absorbed 。 。 。 absorbed 。 。 。 absorbed by the lake itself； drawn in so。 that what was hidden before could now be viewed 。 。 。
。 。 。 There are monsters beneath us； Halloran 。 。 。' He could see the shapes moving around； sluggish； lumbering patches of greater darkness； and it seemed to him…it was insinuated to him…that these were grotesques who knew nothing of light； nothing of sun； creatures who slumbered in the depths； close to the earth's core。 Among them were sleeker denizens； whose very tissue…like structures prevented pulverisation under such pressure； they glided between their cumbersome panions； two opposite natures co…existing in a nocturnal underworld。 There were others with them； but these were less than fleeting shadows。
Halloran sensed their yearning； the desire to ascend and make themselves known to the world above； weary of perpetual gloom but imprisoned by their own form。 Yet if they could not rise； perhaps something of what they sought could be lured down to them 。 。 。
The boat tilted as Halloran leaned further over the side。
'Touch the water；' he was softly urged。 'Feel its coldness 。 。 。' Halloran stretched his hand towards the lake that had bee a huge liquid umbra； and there was a stirring below at his approach； a kind of quivering expectancy。
'。 。 。 sink your fingers into it 。 。 。
He felt the wetness and its chill numbed more than his flesh 。
。 。 。 deeper； let it taste you 。 。 。
The water was up to his wrist； soaking his shirtsleeve 。
。 。 。 reach down； Halloran； reach down and 。 。 。' He heard laughter。
'。 。 。 touch the nether…region 。 。 。
Halloran saw the shapes rising towards him； mutations that should only exist in the depths； mouths…were they mouths？ They were openings； but were they mouths？…gaping； ready to swallow him in 。 。 。 to absorb him 。 。 。
The laughter was sharper； startling him to his senses。 Halloran pulled his hand clear； standing in the boat as if to push himself as far away from those rearing； avaricious gullets as possible。
Still they surged upwards； climbing as a single gusher； an almost solid stream of misshapen beings； terrible unearthly things without eyes but which had limbs that were stunted and as solid as their bodies； while others were only tenuous substances housed around jagged needle…teeth 。 。 ~。 ing closer； rushing as if to shoot above the surface itself 。 。 。
。 。 。 Until they began to disintegrate； to shatter； to implode； for they were never meant for the fine atmosphere of the upper reaches。
He heard their anguished screams though there were no sounds…their torment was in his mind only。 All around the boat the water was bubbling； white foam spouting upwards as if the lake were boiling。 Here and there geysers appeared； jetting into the air and carrying with them…or so Halloran imagined remnants of flesh； all that was left of the abyssal creatures。
The boat pitched in the ferment and Halloran quickly sat； both hands gripping the sides for support； staying that way until the turbulence began to subside； the lake being peaceful once more。
The two men were in an area of clarity； for the mist had been driven back to form a wide circle around the boat。 Everything was still within that clear area； the boat now barely drifting。
The only sound was Kline's low chuckling。
22 FOOD FOR DOGS
Charles Mather was kneeling among his shrubs when his wife called him from the terrace steps。 Always used to rising early； he had found the habit hard to break after leaving military service。 So nowadays； rather than disturb Agnes； who did not share his fondness for early…morning activity； he would creep from their bedroom； dress in the bathroom； take tea in the kitchen； then wander out into the garden； which had bee his second love （Agnes would always be his first）。 Whatever the season； there was always work to be done out there； and for him there was no better way to start the day than with lungs full of sharp…and at that time of the morning； reasonably untainted…air。 The only negative factor was that the chill （always a chill first thing； be it winter； spring or summer） played silly…buggers with the metal in his leg。
He looked up from the bed he had been turning over with a short fork。 'What's that； m' dear？'
'The telephone； Charles。 Mr Halloran is on the telephone。 He says it's important that he speaks to you。' Agnes was a trifle irritated because she'd had to climb from a bath to answer the phone； knowing that her husband would never hear its ringing in the garden。 Here she stood shivering with the morning freshness and catching pneumonia by the second。
Mather pushed himself up from the padded kneeler and； the tip of his cane sinking into the soft earth。 he hobbled towar