fraud, or those still in doubt."

"Exactly," Malone said. If he got no other use out of the data, it
would provide a measuring-stick for the Society. The general public
didn't know that the government was actually using psionic powers, and
the Society's theories, checked against actual fact, would provide a
rough index of reliability to use on the Society's other data.

But spirits, somehow, didn't seem very likely. Malone sighed and stood
up.

"I'll have copies made of all the relevant material," Sir Lewis said,
"from our library and research files. Where do you want the material
sent? I do want to warn you of its bulk; there may be quite a lot of
it."

"FBI Headquarters, on Sixty-ninth Street," Malone said. "And send a
statement of expenses along with it. As long as the bill's within
reason, don't worry about itemizing; I'll see that it goes through
Accounting."

Sir Lewis nodded. "Fine," he said. "And, if you should have any
difficulties with the material, please let me know. I'll always be
glad to help."

"Thanks for your co-operation," Malone said. He went to the door, and
walked on out.

He blundered back into the same big room again, on his way through the
corridors. The bulbous-eyed woman, who seemed to have inherited a full
set of thirty-two teeth from each of her parents, gave him a friendly
if somewhat crowded smile, but Malone pressed on without a word. After
a while, he found the reception room again.

* * * * *

The girl behind the desk looked up. "How did he react?" she said.

Malone blinked. "React?" he said.

"When you sneezed at him," she said. "Because I've been thinking it
over, and I've got a new theory. You're doing a survey on how people
act when encountering sneezes. Like Kinsey."

This girl--Lou something, Malone thought, and with difficulty
refrained from adding "Gehrig"--had an unusual effect, he decided. He
wondered if there were anyone in the world she couldn't reduce to
paralyzed silence.

"Of course," she went on, "Kinsey was dealing with sex, and you
aren't. At least, you aren't during business hours." She smiled
politely at Malone.

"No," he said helplessly, "I'm not."

"It is sneezing, then," she said. "Will I be in the book when it's
published?"

"Book?" Malone said, feeling more and more like a rather low-grade
moron.

"The book on sneezing, when you get it published," she said. "I can
see it now--the Case of Miss X, a Receptioni