ht, doctor. That's
what makes me a telepath."

Malone's brain was whirling rapidly, like a distant galaxy. "Telepath"
was a nice word, he thought. How did you telepath from a road?

Simple.

A road is paved.

Malone thought that was pretty funny, but he didn't laugh. He thought he
would never laugh again. He wanted to cry, a little, but he didn't think
he'd be able to manage that either.

He twisted his hat, but it didn't make him feel any better. Gradually,
he became aware that the little old lady was talking to Dr. Harman
again.

"But," she said, "since it will make you feel so much better, doctor, we
give you our Royal permission to retire, and to speak to Mr. Malone
alone."

"Malone alone," Dr. Harman muttered. "Hm-m-m. My. Well." He turned and
seemed to be surprised that Malone was actually standing near him.
"Yes," he said. "Well. Mr. Alone ... Malone ... please, whoever you are,
just come into my office, please?"

Malone looked at the little old lady. One of her eyes closed and opened.
It was an unmistakable wink.

Malone grinned at her in what he hoped was a cheerful manner. "All
right," he said to the psychiatrist, "let's go." He turned with the
barest trace of regret, and Boyd followed him. Leaving the little old
lady and, unfortunately, the startling Miss Wilson, behind, the
procession filed back into Dr. Harman's office.

* * * * *

The doctor closed the door, and leaned against it for a second. He
looked as though someone had suddenly revealed to him that the world was
square. But when he spoke his voice was almost even.

"Sit down, gentlemen," he said, and indicated chairs. "I really ...
well, I don't know what to say. All this time, all these years, she's
been reading my mind! My mind. She's been reading ... looking right into
my mind, or whatever it is."

"Whatever what is?" Malone asked, sincerely interested. He had dropped
gratefully into a chair near Boyd's, across the desk from Dr. Harman.

"Whatever my _mind_ is," Dr. Harman said. "Reading it. Oh, my."

"Dr. Harman," Malone began, but the psychiatrist gave him a bright blank
stare.

"Don't you understand?" he said. "She's a telepath."

"We--"

The phone on Dr. Harman's desk chimed gently. He glanced at it and said:
"Excuse me. The phone." He picked up the receiver and said: "Hello?"

There was no image on the screen.

But the voice was image enough. "This is Andrew J. Burris," it said. "Is
K