Hanlon started away ... then stopped short. He had wondered at that curiously sluggish feeling in his mind. Now, with a start he had trouble concealing, he suddenly realized a mind-numbing fact!

He had seen and heard that exchange of conversation from two separate and distinct points! And now he was watching himself leave!

_He had heard and seen both from his own ... and from the dog's mind!_

Yes, he suddenly comprehended that the dog had heard and _understood_ every word of that brief conversation--not as a dog might, _but as a man would_!

Suddenly drenched with a cold sweat, Hanlon knew he had not merely been inside the dog's mind, observing and controlling, but that he had actually _transferred_ a portion of his own mind into the dog's brain!

No wonder his own mind--what was left in his own brain--had felt somewhat inadequate and lacking for the moment. It was not his complete mind. When the steward startled him, he had forgotten to withdraw from the bull's brain.

Now he carefully did so, and with senses reeling, almost ran back to his stateroom.

Hanlon threw himself onto the bed and lay there, trembling with awe at realization of the immensity of what he had done.

How in the name of Snyder was such a thing possible? Reading a mind's impressions, even the surface thoughts, was well within the realms of possibility he knew, for he had done it himself. Even hundreds of years before, such things had been believed possible, and had been studied extensively and scientifically. Many people throughout the centuries had claimed the ability to read minds, though only a few had ever proven their powers satisfactorily under carefully controlled laboratory conditions.

He himself, until the past day or so, had not been able to read a mind directly, nor could he do it perfectly even yet, with humans.

Also, he conceded, it was a reasonable concept that if he had any mental ability at all with humans, it should be greater and more efficient with animals. For they had less actual brain-power; their minds were far less complex than human minds.

_But to be able to transfer part of his mind ... to separate it--dissociate it--and have it outside of his body and in some other body's mind!_

"Ain't that sumpin'?" he whistled in awed amazement.

Pulling himself together with an effort of will, he set his mind to reviewing carefully the entire episode, and to figuring out where all this might fit in with the business at hand.

"I thought, when I first got into that pup's mind, that it would be a big help, and it will. But this will be even more so, if I can really control animals, and see and hear with their eyes and ears. And if I can send them where I want them to go, and send my mind, or part of it, along with them, and still know what it and they are doing, that will be tremendous!"

He remembered how he had been able to get into the puppy's mind after it had gone out of sight, so now he sent his mind down to the kennels.

Again, without any trouble, without any delay or hesitation, he found himself inside the bull's mind, and could look out through the cage wires and see the rest of the kennel deck.

He withdrew and lay there, almost dumbfounded.

"How did I ever get such ability?" he wondered. "No one else in our family has it. Am I some sort of a mutant? But if so, how or why? I never heard Dad or Mother mention it."

He had lots of questions, but no answers.

But thinking about this new ability and his job with the Secret Service suddenly reminded him of that potential murderer he had been watching.

He realized with dismay that in his excitement over this latest development he had entirely forgotten that angle. He had better get back on the ball, but fast!

He got up, splashed cold water on his face, dried it, ran a comb through his hair, and went back to the lounge.

The man Panek was not in the Observation lounge, so Hanlon went seeking him. Just as he neared the game rooms on his rounds, he saw his man leaving them. Allowing the stranger to get some distance ahead, Hanlon trailed him as carefully as he could, all the time trying to read what the killer had in mind.

Not entirely to his surprise, Hanlon found he could now read the surface thoughts even more easily than formerly. Thus he soon knew, emphatically, that the man was definitely bent on that contemplated killing right now--that the victim was in his stateroom but was going to leave it shortly in response to a faked video-call.

Hanlon also learned that the murderer had a knife concealed in his sleeve--and was adept in its use.

The SS man's mind rocketed swiftly. What was he to do? He didn't want a murder done, but neither did he want this man killed nor jailed--at least not until he had learned a great deal more concerning him and his part in or knowledge of that "plot" on Simonides that Hanlon and the Corps were trying so desperately to solve.

"I've got to learn to consider mighty carefully all the angles about even the most apparently-insignificant things," he thought carefully. "I can't take chances of gumming things up, but on the other hand, I want to get an 'in' with that gang if I can."

A possibility occurred to the young agent--and he quailed a bit, then grinned wolfishly at the thought. It was plenty dangerous, but if he could put it over maybe it would give him that "in" he needed.

He hurried his steps and caught up with the big man just as the latter was stopping momentarily to peer cautiously around the corner and down a corridor which, Hanlon could read in his mind, led to the victim's stateroom.

Hanlon tapped the man on the shoulder, and as the fellow whirled, a snarl on his face, Hanlon stepped backward a pace and held up his hands in the "I'm not armed" gesture. Then, before Panek could speak, he stepped closer to whisper.

But the thug was both angry and frustrated at the spoiling of his carefully-worked-out plan, and in no mood for conversation. That lethal knife seemed to jump out of his sleeve and toward Hanlon, in the strong, swift, practiced hand of the killer.

The SS man jumped backward, then his own hands darted out and grabbed for the other's wrists in the manner he had been taught. He caught the right, or knife hand, but the big fellow was as dextrous as he, even if he didn't look capable of such fast action. His other hand eluded Hanlon's grasp, and with it Panek struck and jabbed--heavy blows to Hanlon's face and body.

Hanlon parried the blows as best he could, at the same time trying to make his low-voiced words penetrate.

"Cut it out, you fool! I'm trying to help you, not hinder you! Stop it, blast you, and listen!"

But he might as well have been talking to the metal walls. One eye was swelling rapidly, and he had a nick in his arm that he could feel was soaking his jacket sleeve. Seeing he couldn't make the fellow listen, Hanlon threw him with a super-judo trick, then sat on him.

"Shut up and listen to me, Panek!" he hissed urgently, using all his fighting technique meanwhile to keep the other's threshing form immobile. "I'm trying to warn you that the bozo you're after carries one of those new needle-guns, and the needles are poison-tipped. Also, he's the fastest man on the draw I've ever seen--I watched him practice. Just one of those needles and you'd be kaput before you could yell."

"Why ... how ... what d'you mean, huh, what d'you mean?"

The man stopped his struggles for the moment, while his face showed plainly how aghast he was at this interfering stranger's apparent knowledge of his intentions.

"Who are you, huh, and what's your game, what's your game?"

Hanlon made his voice seem both friendly and calculating, and hurried on with his specious explanation before the fellow should start fighting again.

"I'd been tipped off there was something up, on Simonides, where a good hustler could make himself plenty of credits. And credits in quant.i.ty is what I'm after ..."

"What's that got to do with me, huh, what has it?"

"... and I'm on my way there to see what my chances are of getting in on the game. So naturally I tried to learn all I could about it ahead of time. I was told this bird you're after was an important man there, so I studied him. One of the first things I found out about him was that he carried one of those needlers. If he's in your way, together we oughta be able to get rid of him ... but let's play it safe, eh?"

The stranger gave him a cold, calculating going-over with those hard, suspicious eyes. "Let me up, Bub, let me up. I'll be good while we talk."

Hanlon rose, but stood warily as the other slowly climbed to his feet.

But he wasn't sharp enough--Panek's hand flashed out even before he seemed to be standing erect, and slickly grabbed the wallet from the inside pocket of Hanlon's jacket.

But the SS man, seeing what the other was after, stood there without making any resistance.

"Take your time looking at 'em, Pal," he said easily. "I'm clean.

Strictly on my own in this. Just got kicked out of that snake's nest of a Corps school on Terra ..."