e objections seem to make some
sense. But what else is there to go on?"

"I don't know," Boyd said. "I haven't the faintest idea. And I'm
rapidly approaching the stage where I don't care."

"Well," Malone said, heaving a sigh, "let's keep looking."

He bent down and picked up another sheaf of copies from the Psychical
Research Society.

"After all," he said, without much hope, "you never know."

VII

Malone looked around the office of Andrew J. Burris as if he'd never
seen it before. He felt tired, and worn out, and depressed; it had
been a long night, and here it was morning and the head of the FBI was
talking to him about his report. It was, Malone told himself heavily,
a hell of a life.

"Now, Malone," Burris said in a kindly voice, "this is a very
interesting report."

"Yes, sir," Malone said automatically.

"A very interesting report indeed, Kenneth," Burris went on,
positively bursting with good-fellowship.

"Thank you, sir," Malone said dully.

Burris beamed a little more. "You've done a fine job," he said, "a
really fine job. Hardly on the job any time at all, and here you've
managed to get all three of the culprits responsible."

"Now, wait a minute," Malone said in sudden panic. "That isn't what I
said."

"No?" Burris said, looking a little surprised.

"Not at all," Malone said. "I don't think those three spies have
anything to do with this at all. Not a thing."

There was a brief silence, during which Burris' surprise seemed to
expand like a gas and fill the room. "But they've confessed," he said
at last. "Their job was to try and get information, and also to
disrupt our own work here."

"I know all that," Malone said. "But--"

Burris held up a pink, patient hand. Malone stared at it, fascinated.
It had five pink, patient fingers on it. "Malone," Burris said slowly,
"just what's bothering you? Don't you think those men _are_ spies? Is
that it?"

"Spies?" Malone said, slightly confused.

"You know," Burris said. "The men you arrested, Malone. The men you
wrote this report about."

Malone blinked and focused on the hand again. It still had five
fingers. "Sure they are," he said. "They're spies, all right. And
they're caught, and that's that. Except I don't think they're causing
all the confusion around here."

"Well, of course they're not," Burris said, the beam of kindliness
coming back to his face. "Not any more. You caught them."

"I mean," Malone said desperately, "they neve