“I’ll fire this if you come nearer,” he said. “It goes okay, never worry, and it’s loaded. Master Gregory. Now you’re agoing to listen to me!”
“Bert, put that thing away!” Nancy exclaimed. She moved forward to him, but Gregory pulled her back and stood before her.
“Don’t be a bloody idiot, Neckland. Put it away!”
“I’ll shoot you, bor, I’ll shoot you, I swear, if you mucks about.” His eyes were glaring, and the look on his dark face left no doubt that he meant what he said. “You’re going to swear to me that you’re going to clear off of this farm on that nag of yours and never come back again.”
“I’m going straight to tell my father, Bert,” Nancy warned.
The pistol twitched.
“If you move, Nancy, I warn you I’ll shoot this fine chap of yours in the leg. Besides, your father don’t care about Master Gregory anymorehe’s got better things to worry him.”
“Like finding out what’s happening here?” Gregory said.
“Listen, Neckland, we’re all in trouble. This farm is being run by a group of nasty little monsters. You can’t see them because they’re invisible”
The gun exploded. As he spoke, Nancy had attempted to run off. Without hesitating, Neckland fired down at Gregory’s knees. Gregory felt the shot pluck his trouser leg and knew himself unharmed. With knowledge came rage. He flung himself at Neckland and hit him hard over the heart. Falling back, Neckland dropped the pistol and swung his fist wildly.
Gregory struck him again. As he did so, the other grabbed him and they began furiously hitting each other. When Gregory broke free, Neckland grappled with him again. There was more pummeling of ribs.
“Let me go, you swine!” Gregory shouted. He hooked his foot behind Neckland’s ankle, and they both rolled over onto the grass. At this point, a sort of flood bank had been raised long ago between the house and lowlying orchard. Down this the two men rolled, fetching up sharply against the stone wall of the kitchen. Neckland got the worst of it, catching his head on the corner, and lay there stunned. Gregory found himself looking at two feet encased in ludicrous stockings. Slowly, he rose to his feet, and confronted Mrs. Grendon at less than a yard’s distance. She was smiling.
He stood there, and gradually straightened his back, looking at her anxiously.
“So there you are, Jackie, my Jackalums,” she said. The smile was wider now and less like a smile. “I wanted to talk to you.
You are the one who knows about the things that walk on the lines, aren’t you?”
“I don’t understand, Mrs. Grendon.”
“Don’t call me that there daft old name, sonnie. You know all about the little gray things that aren’t supposed to be there, don’t you?”
“Oh, those … Suppose I said I did know?”
“The other naughty children will pretend they don’t know what I mean, but you know, don’t you? You know about the little gray things.”
The sweat stood out on his brow. She had moved nearer.
She stood close, staring into his eyes, not touching him; but he was acutely conscious that she could touch him at any moment.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Neckland stir and crawl away from the house, but there were other things to occupy him.
“These little gray things,” he said. “Did you save the nine babies from them?”
“The gray things wanted to kiss them, you see, but I couldn’t let them. I was clever. I hid them under the good feather pillow and now even / can’t find them!” She began to laugh, making a horrible low whirring sound in her throat.
“They’re small and gray and wet, aren’t they?” Gregory said sharply. “They’ve got big feet, webbed like frogs, but they’re heavy and short, aren’t they, and they have fangs like a snake, haven’t they?”
She looked doubtful. Then her eye seemed to catch a movement. She looked fixedly to one side. “Here comes one now, the female one,” she said.
Gregory turned to look where she did. Nothing was visible.
His mouth was dry. “How many are there, Mrs. Grendon?”