dings that looked so much like "Hospital" that no one in
the world would have mistaken them for anything else. The main building
was by the road, the rest spread out behind as far as I could see;
beyond my esper range even though the whole business was set in one of
the clearest psi areas that I'd even been in.

I was only mildly worried about telepaths. In the first place, the only
thing I had to hide was my conviction about a secret organization and
how part of it functioned. In the second place, the chances were good
that few, if any, telepaths were working there, if the case of Dr.
Thorndyke carried any weight. That there were some telepaths, I did not
doubt, but these would not be among the high-powered help.

So I sailed in and faced the receptionist, who was a good-looking
chemical-type blonde with a pale skin, lovely complexion and figure to
match. She greeted me with a glacial calm and asked my business.

Brazenly I lied. "I'm a freelance writer and I'm looking for material."

"Have you an assignment?" she asked without a trace of interest in the
answer.

"Not this time. I'm strictly freelance. I like it better this way
because I can write whatever I like."

Her glacial air melted a bit at the inference that my writing had not
been in vain. "Where have you been published?" she asked.

I made a fast stab in the dark, aiming in a direction that looked safe.
"Last article was one on the latest archeological findings in Assyria.
Got my source material direct from the Oriental Institute in Chicago."

"Too bad I missed it," she said, looking regretful. I had to grin, I'd
carefully avoided giving the name of the publication and the supposed
date. She went on, "I suppose you would not be happy with the usual
press release?"

"Handouts contain material, all right, but they're so confounded trite
and impersonal. People prefer to read anecdotes about the people rather
than a listing of facts and figures."

She nodded at that. "Just a moment," she said. Then she addressed her
telephone in a voice that I couldn't hear. When she finished, she smiled
in a warmish-type manner as if to indicate that she'd gone all out in my
behalf and that I'd be a heel to forget it. I nodded back and tried to
match the tooth-paste-ad smile. Then the door opened and a man came in
briskly.

He was a tall man, as straight as a ramrod, with a firm jaw and a
close-clipped moustache. He had an air like a thin-man's Captain Bligh.
When h