It remains, of course, an integral part of the bulk of Lovecraft’s work. To attempt to dismiss it as incidental or unimportant would be to close our eyes to the facts. In my opinion however, Lovecraft’s future reputation as a writer of fine horror stories will rest on a very few of his early tales in which the Cthulhu Mythos is either entirely absent or at most still in its formative stages in Lovecraft’s own mind. These early stories which I mean to mention were published prior to the appearance of the first generally accepted “Mythos” story: “The Call of Cthulhu” (WEIRD TALES, February, 1928) These stories are: “The Hound” (WEIRD TALES, February, 1924); “The Rats in the Walls” (WEIRD TALES, March, 1924); “The Music of Erich Zann” (WEIRD TALES, May, 1925); “The Outsider” (WEIRD TALES, April, 1926); “Pickman’s Model” (WEIRD TALES, October, 1927) Of these I think the best of all is “The Music of Erich Zann.” This piece, which might have been written by Poe, has everything which many of the “Mythos” tales lack: compression, sustained and rising suspense culminating in a powerfully effective climax followed almost immediately by the end of the story. Stylistically and structurally, I think Lovecraft never surpassed it. I think it probable that the old German mute will go on sawing his accursed viol in that ghoul-infested garret long after great Cthulhu has lapsed into silence! This story, like Poe’s masterpiece, “The Cask of Amontillado”, seems literally above criticism. There are no wasted words. The brief story unfolds with a remorseless inevitability. Nothing could be omitted, nothing added, nothing changed which would improve its quality. In its particular genre it remains a pure masterpiece. After “The Music of Erich Zann”, I would cite “The Rats in the Walls.” Actually, I very nearly voted it first place because it achieves a pitch of sheer grisly horror which exceeds the taut terror of “The Music of Erich Zann.” On the other hand, it does not possess quite the same degree of purity and compression. But it is a masterpiece of its type, and again I can think of no Lovecraft story after “The Music of Erich Zann” which equals it. As a matter of fact, one almost feels that Lovecraft has gone too far in this particular story. Something inside one rebels as the ghastly eldrich grottos reveal their loathsome secrets. Perhaps it is simply that one instinctively refuses to believe that homo sapiens could ever descend to such a hellish sub-level. But this is a philosophical comment, not a criticism of the story.