t it be part of his psychological pattern to attempt
to get rid of the majority of Controllers, those who simply wanted to
lead normal lives?

And, if so, wasn't it possible that both his cases--the official and the
unofficial--might lead to the same place: Lasser & Sons?

It began to look as though Houston could kill both his birds at once, if
he could just figure out when, how, and in what direction to throw the
stone.

In the middle of the seventh week, a Controller in Manchester, England,
was mobbed and torn to bits by an irate crowd before the PD Police
could get to him. There was no doubt in Houston's mind that this one was
a real megalomaniac; he had taken over another man's brain and forced
him to commit suicide. The controlled man had taken a Webley automatic,
put it to his temple, and blown his brains out.

The Controller's mistake was in not realizing what the sudden shock of
that bullet, transmitted to him telepathically, could do to his own
mind. In the mental disorder that followed, he was spotted and killed
easily.

* * * * *

There was still no word from Dorrine. She had flown back to the States a
week after Houston had returned, but she had had to get back to England
after three days. Since then, he had had three letters, nothing more.
And letters are a damned unsatisfactory way for a telepath to conduct a
love affair.

The one other factor that entered in was The Group, the small band of
sane, reasonable telepaths who had begun to build themselves into an
organization--a sort of Mutual Protective Association.

Personally, Houston didn't think much of the idea; the Group didn't have
any real organization, and they refused to put one together. It was
supposed to be democratic, but it sometimes bordered on the anarchic.

He stayed with them more for companionship than any other reason. When
Dorrine had come back for her short stay, Houston had met with them and
tried to get them to help him trace down the megalomaniac Controller who
was doing so much damage, but they'd balked at the idea. Their job, they
claimed, was to get enough members so that they could protect themselves
from arrest by the Normals, and then just let things ride.

"After all," Dorrine had said, "things will work themselves out,
darling; they always do."

"Not unless somebody helps them, they don't," Houston had snapped back.
"Someone has to do something."

"But, Dave, darling--we _are_ doi