ut looking away from the road.

"Well," he said, "this Dr. Wilson Harman is the man who phoned us
yesterday. One of my field agents was out here asking around about
imbeciles and so on. Found nothing, by the way. And then this Dr.
Harman called, later. Said he had someone here I might be interested
in. So I came on out myself for a look, yesterday afternoon--after
all, we had instructions to follow up every possible lead."

"I know," Malone said. "I wrote them."

"Oh," Boyd said. "Sure. Well, anyhow, I talked to this dame. Lady."

"And?"

"And I talked to her," Boyd said. "I'm not entirely sure of anything
myself. But--well, hell. You take a look at her."

He pulled the car up to a parking space, slid nonchalantly into a slot
marked _Reserved_--_Executive Director Sutton_, and slid out from
under the wheel while Malone got out the other side.

They marched up the broad steps, through the doorway and into the
glass-fronted office of the receptionist.

Boyd showed her his little golden badge, and got an appropriate gasp.
"FBI," he said. "Dr. Harman's expecting us."

The wait wasn't over fifteen seconds. Boyd and Malone marched down the
hall and around a couple of corners, and came to the doctor's office.
The door was opaqued glass with nothing but a room number stenciled
on it. Without ceremony, Boyd pushed the door open. Malone followed
him inside.

The office was small but sunny. Dr. Wilson Harman sat behind a blond-
wood desk, a little man with crew-cut blond hair and rimless
eyeglasses, who looked about thirty-two and couldn't possibly, Malone
thought, have been anywhere near that young. On a second look, Malone
noticed a better age indication in the eyes and forehead, and revised
his first guess upward between ten and fifteen years.

"Come in, gentlemen," Dr. Harman called. His voice was that rarity, a
really loud high tenor.

"Dr. Harman," Boyd said, "this is my superior, Mr. Malone. We'd like
to have a talk with Miss Thompson, if we might."

"I anticipated that, sir," Dr. Harman said. "Miss Thompson is in the
next room. Have you explained to Mr. Malone that--"

"I haven't explained a thing," Boyd said quickly, and added in what
was obviously intended to be a casual tone: "Mr. Malone wants to get a
picture of Miss Thompson directly--without any preconceptions."

"I see," Dr. Harman said. "Very well, gentlemen. Through this door."

He opened the door in the right-hand wall of the room, and Malone t