t. _You're_ Miss Thompson."

"Now, wait a minute, Malone," Boyd began.

"Wait a minute?" Malone said. "There are four people here, not counting
me. I know I'm not Miss Thompson. I never was, not even as a child. And
Dr. Harman isn't, and Miss Wilson isn't, and Whistler's
Great-Grandmother isn't, either. So you must be. Unless she isn't here.
Or unless she's invisible. Or unless I'm crazy."

"It isn't _you_, Malone," Boyd said.

"What isn't me?"

"That's crazy," Boyd said.

"O.K.," Malone said. "I'm not crazy. Then will somebody please tell
me--"

The little old lady cleared her throat. A silence fell. When it was
complete she spoke, and her voice was as sweet and kindly as anything
Malone had ever heard.

"You may call me Miss Thompson," she said. "For the present, at any
rate. They all do here. It's a pseudonym I have to use."

"A pseudonym?" Malone said.

"You see, Mr. Malone," Miss Wilson began.

Malone stopped her. "Don't talk," he said. "I have to concentrate and if
you talk I can barely think." He took off his hat suddenly, and began
twisting the brim in his hands. "You understand, don't you?"

The trace of a smile appeared on her face. "I think I do," she said.

"Now," Malone said, "you're Miss Thompson, but not really, because you
have to use a pseudonym." He blinked at the little old lady. "Why?"

"Well," she said, "otherwise people would find out about my little
secret."

"Your little secret," Malone said.

"That's right," the little old lady said. "I'm immortal, you see."

Malone said: "Oh." Then he kept quiet for a long time. It didn't seem to
him that anyone in the room was breathing.

He said: "Oh," again, but it didn't sound any better than it had the
first time. He tried another phrase. "You're immortal," he said.

"That's right," the little old lady agreed sweetly.

There was only one other question to ask, and Malone set his teeth
grimly and asked it. It came out just a trifle indistinct, but the
little old lady nodded.

"My real name?" she said. "Elizabeth. Elizabeth Tudor, of course. I used
to be Queen."

"Of England," Malone said faintly.

"Malone, look--" Boyd began.

"Let me get it all at once," Malone told him. "I'm strong. I can take
it." He twisted his hat again and turned back to the little old lady.

"You're immortal, and you're not really Miss Thompson, but Queen
Elizabeth I?" he said slowly.

"That's right," she said. "How clever of you. Of course, after li