Michael opened his mouth to speak, but Linda forestalled him.
“So you believe in a perfectly materialist, rational explanation.”
“Yes. Given your husband’s personality, and motives, the rest is clear. The dog is a real dog, manipulated and concealed by Randolph in an attempt to play on your nerves. Your erratic behavior is a result of secretly administered drugs and a form of hypnotic control, intensified by your increasing suggestibility as doubts of your own sanity increased.”
“But I thought no one could be hypnotized to do something he wouldn’t consciously do.”
“An error,” Galen said succinctly. “Or, shall we say a great oversimplification.”
“My attack on Michael-”
“Posthypnotic suggestion, conditioning…” Galen paused. The Gray eyes appraised her coldly. “I am not saying that your mental and emotional state is normal, at the present time.”
“I know that,” Linda said. “What I don’t know is how abnormal it is.”
“You mean, are you still a potential threat to Michael?” Galen pondered the problem without visible emotion. “I would guess that you may well be.”
“God damn it!” Michael was on his feet, ignoring Linda’s outstretched hand, and Galen’s un-perturbed smile. “Your theory stinks, Galen. Oh, I know, it all makes sense. It even explains why the dog attacked me, and yet left before it did any serious damage. The storm excited it, so that it broke away from its handlers, and they called it back before it could be killed or captured because they didn’t want their supernatural effect ruined. I’ll even admit to hearing a funny whistling sound that might have been Gordon, calling the dog. But your version doesn’t explain Gordon’s motive. Why the elaborate plot? Why all the hocus-pocus? And why me, for God’s sake?”
“Your theory isn’t strong on motive either,” Galen pointed out. “The mechanism isn’t that complicated, or obscure; Randolph’s original reason for inviting you to his home had nothing to do with plots, supernatural or otherwise. He may have selected you, in preference to others, because of some amorphous idea of getting back at your father, who was one of the few people who never succumbed to the myth; after that, the development of the relationship between you and Mrs. Randolph would give even a balanced mind cause for dislike. What do you consider a motive, anyway? Four million dollars? You’re talking about human behavior, which is difficult enough to comprehend even in so-called normal individuals. People have committed murder over a dirty plate, or a sum as small as three dollars.”
“All right, all right,” Michael said irritably. “Stop talking down to me. I’ll accept any hypothesis you shove at me, if you’ll just tell me what to do about it.”
“You know better than to ask me for advice.”
“Professional reticence?” Linda asked, too politely.
“Professionally I’m full of advice. As a human being I’ll be damned if I will take on the combined role of leaning post and punching bag. Make your own decisions and kick yourself if they turn out badly.”
“There’s something you may not know,” Michael said. His voice was quiet, but he was furious; Linda knew him well enough now to recognize the signs. “If Randolph were just our personal Nemesis, you’d be justified in staying out of this. But he is planning to go back into politics. That’s a fact; I’ve checked it out. By your own description he’s a paranoidal maniac with enormous charm. Does that remind you of any other political figure in recent history? Gordon isn’t a runty paperhanger with a funny moustache; he’s got a lot more on the ball.”
Galen’s lips tightened. He showed no other reaction; but after a moment Michael flushed and turned away.
“I have not refused to concern myself,” Galen said quietly. “What I’m trying to do is make this a joint project.”
“I’m sorry,” Michael muttered. “You’re right; the long-range effects aren’t important now. The main thing is to get Linda free of him. At the risk of sounding simpleminded, I suggest one of the quick divorce mills.”
“What’s happened to your brain?” Galen asked nastily. “You can’t treat this as an ordinary case of mental cruelty. Randolph is not an ordinary man.”
“He doesn’t own the whole goddamned world.”
“He owns her.” Galen’s head jerked in Linda’s direction. Illogically, it was at that moment, with the impact of his brutal statement still aching, that Linda decided to trust him.
“He’s right,” she said to Michael. “Call it what you like-obsession, neurosis, whatever. He does own me.” She turned to the psychiatrist. “You’ve been very persuasive, Doctor. But I don’t believe any of it. Gordon isn’t an ordinary man, you’re right. He’s not a man at all, not any longer.”
Galen leaned back in his chair.
“At last,” he said, with a sigh. “I thought I spotted something… What do you think he is? Demon, disciple of Satan, werewolf…Ah. The dog.”
In Michael’s hurried, incoherent account, this theory had somehow escaped mention-probably because he rejected it himself. Linda knew there was no use trying to avoid it. Squaring her shoulders, she looked Galen straight in the eye.
“Yes,” she said. “That’s what I think he is.”
“Hmph.” Galen rocked back and forth. “Why?”
“If you don’t stop saying that-” Michael began.
“Shut up. I’m investigating Linda’s crazy ideas, not yours. Lycanthropy…You are not referring, I’m sure, to the mental aberration which involves cannibalism, necrophilia, sadism, and a craving for raw meat, among other symptoms?”
“Is there such a thing?” Linda asked incredulously.
“As a form of psychotic paranoia, sometimes called zoanthropy, there certainly is such a thing. It is comparatively rare, but well documented; some of the famous mass murderers of history probably suffered from a form of this complaint-Gilles de Rais, Jack the Ripper…
“But that’s not what you mean. You are referring to the belief that some human beings can transform themselves into animal form, through the application of various magical techniques. The werewolf is the most familiar to us, because it is a product of European mythology and is described by the classical authors. In the East, however, one encounters were-tigers, and in Africa the supernatural beast may be a hyena or a leopard. The leopard societies of West Africa, which terrorized whole villages, are well known; there was a strong element of such a cult in the Mau Mau atrocities, in Kenya. The mutilations inflicted on the victims of these societies resemble those made by the claws of a predatory animal, and were done with artificial instruments designed to resemble claws.
“Of course it’s impossible to separate the supernatural and pathological elements. A culture with an implicit faith in lycanthropy produces men who are susceptible to the mania, and an individual who found it impossible to attain prestige by normal methods might well turn to lycanthropy as a means of intimidating those he cannot otherwise control.”
“Good God,” Michael muttered.
“There is, as well, a connection between lycanthropy and witchcraft,” Galen went on calmly. “The tradition of supernatural animals is widespread and very ancient. The ability of a witch or warlock to assume animal form was one of the powers granted by Satan to his disciples. Often witches made their way to the Sabbath meeting in animal form. The great black goat was a manifestation of Lucifer. Black is, of course, the color of evil. And the black dog is not unknown as a supernatural animal, sometimes representing the warlock and sometimes Satan himself. The wild dog or wolf like beast is a symbol of the bestial qualities of the human mind, freed from the bonds of reason and conscience.”