ola says," he told her sourly, pointing to
chairs we could take.

"Pheola?" Shari questioned.

"A powerful PC," Wally said. "She predicted you would accompany
Tex tonight."

"Oh, _really_," Shari said scathingly.

"I was there," I told her. "She really did."

"Let's not be diverted by sideshows," Shari said. "We're here to
measure the psi powers of Tex Robertson, not to talk over the
reputed clairvoyance of some dim and misty character."

"Precognition," Wally corrected her. "Stick around, Dr. King.
Pheola will be down a little later. She thinks Tex is something
special."

That was not going to make a good interchange, so I cut in. "Dr.
King is a professional in this field--" I started.

Wally waved a disgusted hand. "We know all about Dr. King and her
field," he said. "Proving that psi powers don't exist, right, Dr.
King?"

Shari bristled. It was hard to stay friendly in any talk with
Bupp. "You know my field," she said, about twenty degrees below
zero. "I accept any and all evidence, regardless what it proves!
There's a lot of talk about psi powers, but precious little that
can ever be detected under laboratory conditions!"

"Oh, well," Wally Bupp grinned. "That's not so strange. All members of the
Lodge are cautioned to stay away from laboratories. You've been testing
Normals. What do you expect for results?"

"Then _you_ show me!" she stormed.

"Go on with you," he grinned. "I thought it was Tex's powers you
wanted tested. Mine are irrelevant."

"I _thought_ so," she said triumphantly. "Charlatan!"

For a moment the grin flickered off his face and I tensed to
catch Shari if she should start to drop. But I guess he thought
better of it.

"Some other time," he said. "Let's get this over with. Make it
simple. You may have some statistical objections to my technique
tonight, but I'm not looking for fringe effects. If this hot-eyed
swain of yours is any good at all, he'll bat a thousand." He got
a deck of cards out of his desk drawer and fanned it out face up
so that he could pluck the two of spades and the two of hearts
from the deck. The rest he put back in his desk.

He put his hands under the desk, with the two cards in them,
produced the cards again, face down, and laid them in a thin
stack on the desk before all of us.

"What's on top?" he said. "Red or black?"

"How will you score?" Shari insisted. He scowled at her and
tossed a squeeze counter across the desk.

"You score," he said. "I