ofits would take care of
themselves.

In probing the man's mind, Black sensed Lawrence's great desire for
adulation, his great desire to be remembered as a public benefactor.

Now if only he, Martin J. Black, could benefit financially from this
new deal--if he could corner enough of those independent shares, he
could and certainly would vote them Lawrence's way. Then, perhaps the
possibility of making the thirty percent he needed would approach
probability, would reach it. With Lawrence's Midas touch the
corporation would also realize millions in profits if the deal went
through.

Figures revolved in Black's mind. If Lawrence--or if he--could corner
six percent of the stock.... Could some of the independents be
persuaded to sell, _psionically persuaded_? Or one of the other major
stockholders? No, that would be unethical and the strongest part of a
psi's training was a fine code of ethics.

Black began to doze--and felt something ever so softly probing at his
mind. _A probe!_ Probably a service psi checking on him. _Why?_ Just
the usual check? No, it wasn't due.

He knew what to do. He had been probed before. Probing was part of the
training at psi school but he had never revealed--and his tutors had
never guessed--that he could create a block that could not be sensed
by the prober. A block which could close off whatever thoughts he
wished to conceal.

He blocked his thoughts of Lawrence and the deal now, and opened
freely that part of his mind which held the routine thoughts of the
law offices. He felt that feather of thought brushing lightly through
his brain, then it was gone as quickly as it had come.

There was a cold sweat over him but he knew that he had passed the
test. Why the probe? Perhaps a BEB psi had wind of Lawrence's deal and
by probing Lawrence's mind--or the mind of someone in the West Coast
realty outfit--had somehow learned of Black's association with the
industrialist. If that were the case there would be more probes. One
time or another a probe might come at a moment of nervous tension or
stress and the information would be gleaned from his mind before he
could block!

He must work fast.

He arose and went to the visiphone, placed a person-to-person call to
Los Angeles.

"Dick Joyce?" he asked before the visual contact was complete, and
only his voice went out.

The face that came in sync on the screen was round, jovial. "Well,
hello, Marty!"

_Lawrence must have called him, or el