День триффидов

           "Ithinkthere’ssomethinggoingonatthegates."Weparkedthecarandclimbedintoanadjoininggardenwhencewecouldprospectdiscreetly.

           Whateverwasgoingonwasrightatthefront.Wemanagedtofindaslightlyhighermoundwhichgaveusaviewofthegatesacrosstheheadsofthecrowd.Onthissideamaninacapwastalkingvolublythroughthebars.Hedidnotappeartobemakingalotofheadway,fortheparttakenintheconversationbythemanontheothersideofthegatesconsistedalmostentirelyofnegativeheadshakes.

           "Whatisit?"Josellaaskedinawhisper.

           Ihelpedherupbesideme.Thetalkativemanturnedsothatwehadaglimpseofhisprofile.Hewas,Ijudged,aboutthirty,withastraight,narrownoseandratherbonyfeatures.

           Whatshowedofhishairwasdark,butitwastheintensityofhismannerthatwasmorenoticeablethanhisappearance.

           Asthecolloquythroughthegatescontinuedtogetnowhere,hisvoicebecamelouderandmoreemphatic—thoughwithoutvisibleeffectontheother.Therecouldbenodoubtthatthemanbeyondthegateswasabletosee;hewasdoingsowatchfully,throughborn-rimmedglasses.Afewyardsbehindhimstoodalittleknotofthreemoremenaboutwhomtherewasequallylittledoubt.They,too,wereregardingthecrowdanditsspokesmanwithcarefulattention.Themanonoursidegrewmoreheated.Hisvoiceroseasifheweretalkingasmuchforthebenefitofthecrowdasforthosebehindtherailings.

           "Nowlistentome,"hesaidangrily.