e
the astonished eyes of the doctor and nurse, and Tom Boyd, she patted
the FBI agent on the shoulder. "There, there, Mr. Malone," she said. "It
will all be perfectly all right. You'll see." Then she returned to her
seat.

Malone opened his eyes. He turned to Dr. Harman. "You called up Boyd
here," he said, "and told him that ... er ... Miss Thompson was a
telepath. Howd' you know?"

"It's all right," the little old lady put in from her chair. "I don't
mind your calling me Miss Thompson, not right now, anyhow."

"Thanks," Malone said faintly.

Dr. Harman was blinking in a kind of befuddled astonishment. "You mean
she really _is_ a--" He stopped and brought his tenor voice to a
squeaking halt, regained his professional poise, and began again. "I'd
rather not discuss the patient in her presence, Mr. Malone," he said.
"If you'll just come into my office--"

"Oh, _bosh_, Dr. Harman," the little old lady said primly. "I do wish
you'd give your own Queen credit for some ability. Goodness knows you
think _you're_ smart enough."

"Now, now, Miss Thompson," he said in what was obviously his best Grade
A Choice Government Inspected couchside manner. "Don't...."

"... Upset yourself," she finished for him. "Now, really, doctor. I know
what you're going to tell them."

"But Miss Thompson, I--"

"You didn't honestly think I _was_ a telepath," the little old lady
said. "Heavens, we know that. And you're going to tell them how I used
to say I could read minds ... oh, years and years ago. And because of
that you thought it might be worth while to tell the FBI about me--which
wasn't very kind of you, doctor, before you knew anything about why they
wanted somebody like me."

* * * * *

"Now, now, Miss Thompson," Miss Wilson said, walking across the room to
put an arm around the little old lady's shoulder. Malone wished for one
brief second that he were the old little old lady. Maybe if he were a
patient in the hospital he would get the same treatment.

He wondered if he could possibly work such a deal.

Then he wondered if it would be worth while, being nuts. But of course
it would. He was nuts anyhow, wasn't he?

Sure, he told himself. They were all nuts.

"Nobody's going to hurt you," Miss Wilson said. She was talking to the
old lady. "You'll be perfectly all right and you don't have to worry
about a thing."

"Oh, yes, dear, I know that," the little old lady said. "You only want
to he