"The best possible care, doctor," and tried to look dependable
and trustworthy, like a Boy Scout. He was aware that the effort failed
miserably.

At his signal, the two plainclothes FBI men took over from the
attendants. They marched Logan out to their car, and Malone led the
procession back to Boyd's automobile, a procession that consisted--in
order--of Sir Kenneth Malone, prospective Duke of Columbia, Queen
Elizabeth I, Lady Barbara, prospective Duchess of an unspecified county,
and Sir Thomas Boyd, prospective Duke of Poughkeepsie. Malone hummed a
little of "Pomp and Circumstance" as they walked; somehow, he thought it
was called for.

They piled into the car, Boyd at the wheel with Malone next to him, and
the two ladies in back, with Queen Elizabeth sitting directly behind Sir
Thomas. Boyd started the engine and they turned and roared off.

"Well," said Her Majesty with an air of great complacence, "that's that.
That makes six of us."

Malone looked around the car. He counted the people. There were four. He
said, puzzled: "Six?"

"That's right, Sir Kenneth," Her Majesty said. "You have it exactly.
Six."

"You mean six telepaths?" Sir Thomas asked in a deferent tone of voice.

"Certainly I do," Her Majesty replied. "We telepaths, you know, must
stick together. That's the reason I got poor little Willie out of that
sanitarium of his, you know--and, of course, the others will be joining
us."

"Don't you think it's time for your nap, dear?" Lady Barbara put in
suddenly.

"My _what_?" It was obvious that Queen Elizabeth was Not Amused.

"Your nap, dear," Lady Barbara said.

"Don't call me 'dear,'" Her Majesty snapped.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," Barbara murmured. "But really--"

"My dear girl," Her Majesty said, "I am not a child. I am your
sovereign. Do try to have a little respect. Why, I remember when
Shakespeare used to say to me--but that's no matter, not now."

"About those telepaths--" Boyd began.

"Telepaths," Her Majesty said. "Ah, yes. We must all stick together. In
the hospital, you know, we had a little joke--the patients for Insulin
Shock Therapy used to say: 'If we don't stick together, we'll all be
stuck separately.' Do you see, Sir Thomas?"

"But," Sir Kenneth Malone said, trying desperately to return to the
point. "_Six?_" He had counted them up in his mind. Burris had mentioned
one found in St. Elizabeths, and two more picked up later. With Queen
Elizabeth, and now William Logan, th