Read "The Place Called Dagon" by Herbert Gorman online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
She was seated in an embrasure formed where a portion of the brick wall had fallen away and dropped into the yellow-scummed water of the millpond. He could see the dark silhouette of her head as it turned sideways against the smoky light of the moon, and for a moment he paused in the doorway watching her, noting the regularity of her boldly-cut features and the cold sensuousness of her rounded lips. It was almost symbolic to find her so, no more than a silhouette, a face seen in a single aspect, a profile clean-cut and set against unsteady light that flowed with the rippling of milky waters. She was like this. She was the outline of a mystery, a part of that riddle that somehow he must solve if he was to have any peace of mind. It was dark and gloomy in the mill. Its fire-blackened walls retained the horror of an old debacle. Two men had been incinerated here. She said:
"I was sure you would come."