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Sssssnap。
Sudden energy blasted through him。 He felt inhumanly alert； acutely sensitive of the color and texture of everything around him。 And he felt far stronger than ever before in his life； like a god in a man's body。
He dropped the hammer and fell to his bare knees beside the bed。 He put his forehead on the bloodied bedspread and took deep breaths； shuddering with pleasure so intense it could almost not be borne。
A couple of minutes later； when he had recovered； when he had adjusted to his new and more powerful condition； he got up； turned to the dead woman； and bestowed kisses on her battered face； plus one in the palm of each of her hands。
〃Thank you。〃
He was so deeply moved by the sacrifice she had made for him that he
thought he might weep。 But his joy at his own good fortune was greater than his pity for her； and the tears would not flow。
In the bathroom he took a quick shower。 As the hot water sluiced the soap from him； he thought about how lucky he was to have found a way to make murder his business； to be paid for what he would have done anyway； without remuneration。
When he had dressed again； he used a towel to wipe off the few things he had touched since entering the house。 He always remembered every move he'd made； and he never worried about missing an object in the wipe…down and leaving a stray fingerprint。 His perfect memory was just another part of his Gift。
When he let himself out of the house； he discovered that night had fallen。
THREE
1
Throughout the early part of the evening； the retriever exhibited none of the remarkable behavior that had stirred Travis's imagination。 He kept a watch on the dog； sometimes directly； sometimes out of the corner of his eye； but he saw nothing that engaged his curiosity。
He made a dinner of bacon； lettuce； and tomato sandwiches for himself； and he opened a can of Alpo for the retriever。 It liked the Alpo well enough； consuming the stuff in great gulps； but it clearly preferred his food。 It sat on the kitchen floor beside his chair； looking at him forlornly as he ate two sandwiches at the red Formica…topped table。 At last he gave it two strips of bacon。
Nothing about its doggy begging was extraordinary。 It performed no startling tricks。 It merely licked its chops； whined now and then； and repeatedly employed a limited repertoire of sorrowful expressions designed to elicit pity and passion。 Any mutt would have tried to cadge a treat in the same fashion。
Later； in the living room； Travis switched on the television； and the dog curled up on the couch beside him。 After a while it put its head on his thigh； wanting to be petted and scratched behind the ears； and he obliged。 The dog glanced occasionally at the television but had no great interest in the programs。
Travis was not interested in TV； either。 He was intrigued only by the dog。 He wanted to study it and encourage it to perform more tricks。 Although he tried to think of ways to elicit displays of its astonishing intelligence； he could e up with no tests that would reliably gauge the animal's mental capacity。
Besides； Travis had a hunch that the dog would not cooperate in a test。 Most of the time it seemed instinctively to conceal its cleverness。 He recalled its witlessness and ical clumsiness in pursuit of the butterfly； then contrasted that behavior with the wit and agility required to turn on the patio water faucet： those actions appeared to be the work of two different animals。 Though it was a crazy idea； Travis suspected that the retriever did not wish to draw attention to itself and that it revealed its uncanny intelligence only in times of crisis （as in the woods）； or if it was very hungry （as when it had opened the glove partment in the truck to obtain the candy bar）； or if no one was watching （as when it had turned on the water faucet）。
This was a preposterous idea because it suggested that the dog was not
only highly intelligent for one of its species but was aware of the extraordinary nature of its own abilities。 Dogs…all animals； in fact…simply did not possess the high degree of self awareness required to analyze themselves in parison to others of their kind。 parative analysis was strictly a human quality。 If a dog was especially bright and capable of many tricks； it would still not be aware it was different from most of its kind。 To assume this dog was； in fact； aware of such things was to credit it not only with remarkable intelligence but with a capacity for reason and logic； and with a facility for rational judgment superior to the instinct that ruled the decisions of all other animals。
〃You；〃 Travis told the retriever； gently stroking its head； 〃are an enigma wrapped in a mystery。 Either that； or I'm a candidate for a rubber room。〃
The dog looked at him in response to his voice； gazed into his eyes for a moment； yawned…and suddenly jerked its head up and stared beyond him at the bookshelves that flanked the archway between the living and dining rooms。 The satisfied； dopey； doggy expression on its face had vanished； replaced by the keen interest Travis had seen before； which transcended ordinary canine alertness。
Scrambling off the sofa； the retriever dashed to the bookshelves。 It ran back and forth beneath them； looking up at the colorful spines of the neatly arranged volumes。
The rental house came fully…if unimaginatively and cheaply…furnished； with upholstery chosen for durability （vinyl） or for the ability to conceal ineradicable stains （eye…searing plaids）。 Instead of wood； there was lots of wood…finish Formica that was resistant to chipping； scratching； abrasion； and cigarette burns。 Virtually the only things in the place reflecting Travis Cornell's own tastes and interests were the books…both paperbacks and hardcovers… that filled the shelves in the living room。
The dog appeared to be intensely curious about at least some of those few hundred volumes。
Getting to his feet； Travis said； 〃What is it； boy？ What's got your tail in an uproar？〃
The retriever jumped onto its hind feet； put its forepaws on one of the shelves； and sniffed the spines of the books。 It glanced at Travis； then returned to its eager examination of his library。
He went to the shelf in question； withdrew one of the volumes to which the dog had pressed its nose… Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson… and held it out。 〃This？ You're interested in this？〃
The dog studied the painting of Long John Silver and a pirate ship that adorned the dust jacket。 It looked up at Travis； then down at Long John Silver again。 After a moment； it dropped back from the shelf； onto the floor； dashed to the shelves on the other side of the archway； leaped up again； and began sniffing other books。
Travis replaced Treasure Island and followed the retriever。 It was now applying its damp nose to his collection of Charles Dickens's novels。 Travis Picked up a paperback of A Tale of Two Cities。
Again； the retriever carefully studied the cover illustration as if actually trying to determine what the book was about； then looked up expectantly at Travis。
Utterly baffled； he said； 〃The French Revolution。 Guillotines。 Beheadings。 Tragedy and heroism。 It's 。 。 。 uh 。 。