off.

Then he put in a second call to the psychiatrists from St. Elizabeths
and told them the same thing. More used to the strange demands of
neurotic and psychotic patients, they were readier to comply.

Everyone, Malone realized with satisfaction, was now assembling.
Burris and the others were ready to go, sparklingly dressed and
looking impatient. Malone put down the phone and took one great breath
of relief.

Then, beaming, he led the others out.

* * * * *

Ten minutes later, there were nine men in Elizabethan costume standing
outside the room which had been designated as the Queen's Court. Dr.
Gamble's costume did not quite fit him; his sleeve-ruffs were half way
up to his elbows and his doublet had an unfortunate tendency to creep.
The St. Elizabeths men, all four of them, looked just a little like
moth-eaten versions of old silent pictures. Malone looked them over
with a somewhat sardonic eye. Not only did he have the answer to the
whole problem that had been plaguing them, but _his_ costume was a
stunning, perfect fit.

"Now, I want you men to let me handle this," Malone said. "I know just
what I want to say, and I think I can get the information without too
much trouble."

One of the psychiatrists spoke up. "I trust you won't disturb the
patient, Mr. Malone," he said.

"Sir Kenneth," Malone snapped.

The psychiatrist looked both abashed and worried. "I'm sorry," he said
doubtfully.

Malone nodded. "That's all right," he said. "I'll try not to disturb
Her Majesty unduly."

The psychiatrists conferred. When they came out of the huddle one of
them--Malone was never able to tell them apart--said: "Very well,
we'll let you handle it. But we will be forced to interfere if we feel
you're--ah--going too far."

Malone said: "That's fair enough, gentlemen. Let's go."

He opened the door.

It was a magnificent room. The whole place had been done over in
plastic and synthetic fibers to look like something out of the
Sixteenth Century. It was as garish, and as perfect, as a Hollywood
movie set--which wasn't surprising, since two stage designers had been
hired away from color-TV spectaculars to set it up. At the far end of
the room, past the rich hangings and the flaming chandeliers, was a
great throne, and on it Her Majesty was seated. Lady Barbara reclined
on the steps at her feet.

Malone saw the expression on Her Majesty's face. He wanted to talk to
Barbara--but there