'd called my bet.

"I'll tell you, Maragon," he said. "I hate to admit it of a skunk like
you, but you've got the Stigma. You kept a TK grip on those bills she
shuffled. Her hallucination is too good for you not to think it was
sleight of hand."

"No!" Mary shrieked.

"Not him!" Elmer said.

I stood up to face them. "Yes," I said. "I _do_ have the Stigma. The
only lie was that I was the Lodge's counsel. I'm not."

"What then?" Keys demanded.

"I'm Grand Master of the Manhattan Chapter," I told him. "And you,
like every Psi who is made aware of the existence of the Lodge, are
now subject to my orders."

"Not me," Elmer said. "You ain't got the Stigma."

I fired a lift at an ashtray on the table beside him, and it sailed in
an arc toward the kitchen and crashed against the wall. My TK was
certainly a lot better than it had been in the morning. Well, I'd
spent an hour or so warming up before they had come in.

"_Who_ hasn't got the Stigma?" I said.

He looked at Keys. "You didn't do that," he said. "You _couldn't_!"

Keys was openmouthed. "What a bruiser!" he marveled.

"So I've got the Stigma, Elmer," I said quietly. "Now why won't you do
what I tell you?"

"Ah don't do what _anybody_ tells me!"

"What do you hate and fear the most?" I asked him.

"Snakes, ah reckon," he decided.

"Show him a snake, Mary," I said. Her face twisted in indecision. I
rammed a lift in under her heart--I know it hurt her. "Show him!" I
snapped.

Elmer didn't jump more than three feet. Mary gave all of us the same
hallucination. Her first try was a pretty sad kind of a snake, but it
was bigger than the nine-by-twelve rug it squirmed on, and was making
right for Elmer's legs, hissing in a horrible fashion.

"Enough," I said. "That's how, Elmer. And if that doesn't trouble you,
how about this?" I gave him a sample of what TK means when it's
clamped on the mitral valve. A heart attack is no joking matter, and
just before he hit the deck I eased off.

"Now," I said, "will you do what I tell you, or do I have to kill you
outright?"

He sank down to his knees, resting his palms on the carpet so recently
vacant of illusory snake. "Yo' got me convinced, suh," he admitted.
"No mo', you hear?"

"Any more protests?" I said. I got none. "Here's what we have to do,"
I went on, and spelled it out for them. At last they were ready to go,
three shaken young people. "I repeat--absolute secrecy--none of you is
a telepath, so only you