Unnatural Creatures

Wolf backed away and let his tail droop.

“You see, Wolfie darling? Gloria has ums just where she wants ums. And ums is damned well going to be a good boy.”

There was a rap on the boudoir door, and Gloria called, “Come in.”

“A gentleman to see you, madam,” the maid announced. “A Professor Fearing.”

Gloria smiled her best cruel and queenly smile. “Come along, Wolfie. This may interest you.”

Professor Oscar Fearing, overflowing one of the graceful chairs of the sitting room, beamed benevolently as Gloria and the wolf entered. “Ah, my dear! A new pet. Touching.”

“And what a pet, Oscar. Wait till you hear.”

Professor Fearing buffed his pince-nez against his sleeve. “And wait, my dear, until you hear all that I have learned. Chiswick has perfected his protective screen against magnetic bombs, and the official trial is set for next week. And Farnsworth has all but completed his researches on a new process for obtaining osmium. Gas warfare may start any day, and the power that can command a plentiful supply of—”

“Fine, Oscar,” Gloria broke in. “But we can go over all this later. We’ve got other worries right now.”

“What do you mean, my dear?”

“Have you run onto a redheaded young Irishman in a yellow shirt?”

“No, I— Why, yes. I did see such an individual leaving the office yesterday. I believe he had been to see Wolfe.”

“He’s on to us. He’s a detective from Los Angeles, and he’s tracking us down. Someplace he got hold of a scrap of record that should have been destroyed. He knows I’m in it, and he knows I’m tied up with somebody here in the German department.”

Professor Fearing scrutinized his pince-nez, approved of their cleanness, and set them on his nose. “Not so much excitement, my dear. No hysteria. Let us approach this calmly. Does he know about the Temple of the Dark Truth?”

“Not yet. Nor about you. He just knows it’s somebody in the department.”

“Then what could be simpler? You have heard of the strange conduct of Wolfe Wolf?”

“Have I!” Gloria laughed harshly.

“Everyone knows of Wolfe’s infatuation with you. Throw the blame onto him. It should be easy to clear yourself and make you appear an innocent tool. Direct all attention to him and the organization will be safe. The Temple of the Dark Truth can go its mystic way and extract even more invaluable information from weary scientists who need the emotional release of a false religion.”

“That’s what I’ve tried to do. I gave O’Breen a long song and dance about my devotion to Wolfe, so obviously phony he’d be bound to think it was a cover-up for something else. And I think he bit. But the situation’s a damned sight trickier than you guess. Do you know where Wolfe Wolf is?”

“No one knows. After the president…ah…rebuked him, he seems to have vanished.”

Gloria laughed again. “He’s right here. In this room.”

“My dear! Secret panels and such? You take your espionage too seriously. Where?”

“There!”

Professor Fearing gaped. “Are you serious?”

“As serious as you are about the future of Fascism. That is Wolfe Wolf.”

Fearing approached the wolf incredulously and extended his hand.

“He might bite,” Gloria warned him a second too late.

Fearing stared at his bleeding hand. “That, at least,” he observed, “is undeniably true.” And he raised his foot to deliver a sharp kick.

“No, Oscar! Don’t! Leave him alone. And you’ll have to take my word for it—it’s way too complicated. But the wolf is Wolfe Wolf, and I’ve got him absolutely under control. He’s perfectly in our hands. We’ll switch suspicion to him, and I’ll keep him this way while Fergus and his friends the G-men go off hotfoot on his trail.”

“My dear!” Fearing ejaculated. “You’re mad. You’re more hopelessly mad than the devout members of the temple.” He took off his pince-nez and stared again at the wolf. “And yet Tuesday night— Tell me one thing: From whom did you get this…this wolf dog?”

“From a funny plump little man with a fringy beard.”

Fearing gasped. Obviously he remembered the furor in the temple, and the wolf and the fringe-beard. “Very well, my dear. I believe you. Don’t ask me why, but I believe you. And now—”

“Now, it’s all set, isn’t it? We keep him here helpless, and we use him to—”

“The wolf as scapegoat. Yes. Very pretty.”

“Oh! One thing—” She was suddenly frightened.

Wolfe Wolf was considering the possibilities of a sudden attack on Fearing. He could probably get out of the room before Gloria could say Absarka! But after that? Whom could he trust to restore him? Especially if G-men were to be set on his trail…

“What is it?” Fearing asked.

“That secretary. That little mouse in the department office. She knows it was you I asked for, not Wolf. Fergus can’t have talked to her yet, because he swallowed my story; but he will. He’s thorough.”

“Hm-m-m. Then, in that case—”

“Yes, Oscar?”

“She must be attended to.” Professor Oscar Fearing beamed genially and reached for the phone.

Wolf acted instantly, on inspiration and impulse. His teeth were strong, quite strong enough to jerk the phone cord from the wall. That took only a second, and in the next second he was out of the room and into the hall before Gloria could open her mouth to speak that word that would convert him from a powerful and dangerous wolf to a futile man.

There were shrill screams and a shout or two of “Mad dog!” as he dashed through the hotel lobby, but he paid no heed to them. The main thing was to reach Emily’s house before she could be “attended to.” Her evidence was essential. That could swing the balance, show Fergus and his G-men where the true guilt lay. And, besides, he admitted to himself, Emily was a damned nice kid….

His rate of collision was about one point six six per block, and the curses heaped upon him, if theologically valid, would have been more than enough to damn him forever. But he was making time, and that was all that counted. He dashed through traffic signals, cut into the path of trucks, swerved from under streetcars, and once even leaped over a stalled car that was obstructing him. Everything was going fine, he was halfway there, when two hundred pounds of human flesh landed on him in a flying tackle.