isly squeals ended abruptly. The body continued to jerk for
another second or two, then lay still.

Garfield shoved the gun back into his pocket. The unexpected
interruption had unnerved him; his hands shook as he reached down again
for the stranger's ankles. Then he jerked his hands back, and
straightened up, staring.

From the side of the man's chest, a few inches below the right arm,
something like a thick black stick, three feet long, protruded now
through the material of the coat.

It shone, gleaming wetly, in the light from the car. Even in that first
uncomprehending instant, something in its appearance brought a surge of
sick disgust to Garfield's throat. Then the stick bent slowly halfway
down its length, forming a sharp angle, and its tip opened into what
could have been three blunt, black claws which scrabbled clumsily
against the pavement. Very faintly, the squealing began again, and the
body's back arched up as if another sticklike arm were pushing
desperately against the ground beneath it.

Garfield acted in a blur of horror. He emptied the .38 into the thing at
his feet almost without realizing he was doing it. Then, dropping the
gun, he seized one of the ankles, ran backwards to the shoulder of the
road, dragging the body behind him.

In the darkness at the edge of the shoulder, he let go of it, stepped
around to the other side and with two frantically savage kicks sent the
body plunging over the shoulder and down the steep slope beyond. He
heard it crash through the bushes for some seconds, then stop. He
turned, and ran back to the sedan, scooping up his gun as he went past.
He scrambled into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut behind
him.

His hands shook violently on the steering wheel as he pressed down the
accelerator. The motor roared into life and the big car surged forward.
He edged it past the Packard, cursing aloud in horrified shock, jammed
down the accelerator and went flashing up Route Twelve, darkness racing
beside and behind him.

* * * * *

_What had it been?_ Something that wore what seemed to be a man's body
like a suit of clothes, moving the body as a man moves, driving a man's
car ... roach-armed, roach-legged itself!

Garfield drew a long, shuddering breath. Then, as he slowed for a curve,
there was a spark of reddish light in the rear-view mirror.

He stared at the spark for an instant, braked the car to a stop, rolled
down the wind