I shivered as I stepped out of the house. It was long after midnight, and I could feel winter creeping in through the silences of the empty street. At the end of the block a dark figure, trailing a squeaking two-wheeled shopping cart, looked back at the sound of the door opening and then vanished around the corner. I closed the front door as quietly as I could, tugging until I heard the latch click, and headed east through side streets toward the railway track.
Lovecraft, Dad and I had sat up late scheming to elude the Hounds of Tindalos. It had been done before, Lovecraft said, or there were those who said it had been done. “Or at least,” he finally conceded, “there are those who say that it theoretically can be done in this way.
“The favoured method to stave off an attack by the Hounds
