JERRY BUMPUS
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appeared to realize he was someplace other than where he had counted
on being. Cookie grabbed his arm and struggled to turn him to the
door, the two of them leaning on each other as though launching into
the first steps of some lugubrious dance.
"Oh. " They stopped, looking Lutz's way.
But they were looking beyond Lutz. He turned.
He stood in the doorway, an unlit cigar in the corner of his mouth,
his large yellow eyes unblinking. " Is this Lutz? "
"Aye, it is," Cookie said.
He turned and went down the hall and up the stairs.
Cookie dumped Ockersly. "Well?" He grabbed Lutz's arm. "Go. "
He propelled Lutz to the door. "Go!"
Lutz climbed the stairs, following him to the third floor and into
the study. "Light the lamp." Lutz found it, lit it. Turning, Lutz saw
him lying on a sofa, head raised, ears pricked, looking toward a
window where the moon had appeared. He continued staring at the
window, clearly avoiding Lutz as if his having to speak to a person out
of costume was something of an embarrassment.
Lutz had to admit it was a most convincing dog suit, particularly
the head, a perfect imitation of a cross between a German shepherd and
a wolf, except for its unnatural largeness, for of course it had to
accommodate the head of the fellow inside. But the mouth went
beyond the merely convincing. It was downright marvelous! He would
smoke his cigar through the long snout, his own lips recessed at least
five inches from the end of the snout (with its shiny wet black nose!) on
a plane with the eyes. And those remarkably real yellow eyes! (Contact
lenses, no doubt.) And there wasn 't the slightest gap between the mask
and the rims of the eyes inside.
"Fix us a drink," he said, speaking out the corner of his mouth
and nodding to a bar set up on a table. "Whisky. " There was a bright
red porridge bowl among the bottles and glasses . "No water."
When Lutz turned he nearly dropped the bowl, for Abbott had
silently left the sofa, crossed the room, and stood on all fours behind
him. "There" -he pointed with his snout.
With his own drink Lutz sat across the room and, listening to
Abbott lapping from the bowl, stared at the back end of him, the long
tail hanging down straight.
It
would, Lutz knew, sway when he
walked; that would suggest wagging. The shanks were narrow, as they
are on a real dog or wolf. How had he managed that? But no doubt the
narrowness was an illusion created by the breadth of the brisket and
