re approaching a
critical stage in Project Isle," the scientist said, enclosing one
fist within the other hand. "If anything more gets out to the Soviets,
we might as well publish our findings--" a wide, outflung gesture of
both arms--"in the newspapers."

Burris stepped back. "We're doing the best we can, Dr. Gamble," he
said. All things considered, his obvious try at radiating confidence
was nearly successful. "After all," he went on, "we know a great deal
more than we did four days ago. Miss Thompson has assured us that the
spy is right here, within the compound of Yucca Flats Labs. We've
bottled everything up in this compound, and I'm confident that no
information is at present getting through to the Soviet Government.
Miss Thompson agrees with me."

"Miss Thompson?" Gamble said, one hand at his bearded chin.

"The Queen," Burris said.

Gamble nodded and two fingers touched his forehead. "Ah," he said. "Of
course." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "But we can't keep
everybody who's here now locked up forever. Sooner or later we'll have
to let them--" His left hand described the gesture of a man tossing
away a wad of paper--"go." His hands fell to his sides. "We're lost,
unless we can find that spy."

"We'll find him," Burris said with a show of great confidence.

"But--"

"Give her time," Burris said. "Give her time. Remember her mental
condition."

Boyd looked up. "Rome," he said in an absent fashion, "wasn't built in
a daze."

Burris glared at him, but said nothing. Malone filled the
conversational hole with what he thought would be nice, and hopeful,
and untrue.

"We know he's someone on the reservation, so we'll catch him
eventually," he said. "And as long as his information isn't getting
into Soviet hands, we're safe." He glanced at his wristwatch.

Dr. Gamble said: "But--"

"My, my," Malone said. "Almost lunchtime. I have to go over and have
lunch with Her Majesty. Maybe she's dug up something more."

"I hope so," Dr. Gamble said, apparently successfully deflected. "I do
hope so."

"Well," Malone said, "pardon me." He shucked off his coat and
trousers. Then he proceeded to put on the doublet and hose that hung
in the little office closet. He shrugged into the fur-trimmed, slash-
sleeved coat, adjusted the plumed hat to his satisfaction with great
care, and gave Burris and the others a small bow. "I go to an audience
with Her Majesty, gentlemen," he said in a grave, well-modulated
voice.