e not my friends," Brubitsch said firmly. "If they
tell you about murder and say it was me, they are no friends. I did
not murder anybody. I have alibi. I did not even murder anybody a
little bit. They are no friends. This is terrible."

"There," Malone said reflectively, "I agree with you. It's positively
awful. And I think we might as well give it up. After all, we don't
need your testimony. The other two are enough; they'll get maybe ten
years apiece, but you're going to get the chair."

"I will not sit down," Brubitsch said firmly. "I am innocent. I am
innocent like a small child. Does a small child commit a murder? It is
ridiculous."

* * * * *

Boyd picked up his cue with ease. "You might as well give us your side
of the story, then," he said easily. "If you didn't commit any
murders--"

"I am a small child," Brubitsch announced.

"O.K.," Boyd said. "But if you didn't commit any murders, just what
_have_ you been doing since you've been in this country as a Soviet
agent?"

[Illustration]

"I will say nothing," Brubitsch announced. "I am a small child. It is
enough." He paused, blinked, and went on: "I will only tell you this:
no murders were done by our group in any of our activities."

"And what were your activities?"

"Oh, many things," Brubitsch said. "Many, many things. We--"

The telephone rang loudly, and Malone scooped it up with a practiced
hand. "Malone here," he said.

Her Majesty's voice was excited. "Sir Kenneth!" she said. "I just got
a tremendous burst of--static!"

Malone blinked. _Is my mind acting up again?_ he thought, knowing she
would pick it up. _Am I being interfered with?_

He didn't feel any different. But then, how was he supposed to feel?

"It's not _your_ mind, Sir Kenneth," Her Majesty said. "Not this time.
It's _his_ mind. That sneaky-thinking Brubitsch fellow."

_Brubitsch?_ Malone thought. _Now what is that supposed to mean?_

"I don't know, Sir Kenneth," Her Majesty said. "But get on back to
your questioning. He's ready to talk now."

"O.K.," Malone said aloud. "Fine." He hung up and looked back to the
Russian sitting on his chair. Brubitsch was ready to talk, and that
was one good thing, anyhow. But what was all the static about?

What was going on?

"Now, then," Malone said. "You were telling us about your group
activities."

"True," Brubitsch said. "I did not commit any murders. It is possible
that Borbitsch committed mur