spy ring. It did not seem to be a very efficient spy ring; Brubitsch's
long sad tale of forgotten messages, mixed orders, misplaced documents
and strange mishaps was a marvel and a revelation to the listening
officers.

"I've never heard anything like it," one of them whispered in a tone
of absolute wonder. "They're almost working on our side."

Over an hour later, Malone turned wearily away from the prisoner. "All
right, Brubitsch," he said. "I guess that pretty much covers things
for the moment. If we want any more information, though--"

"Call on me," Brubitsch said sadly. "I am not going any place. And I
will give you all the information you desire. But I did not commit any
murders--"

"Good-bye, small child," Malone said, as two agents led the fat man
away. The other two left soon afterward, and Malone and Boyd were
alone.

* * * * *

"Think he was telling the truth?" Boyd said.

Malone nodded. "Nobody," he said, "could make up a story like that."

"I suppose so," Boyd said, and the phone rang. Malone picked it up.

"Well?" he asked.

"He was telling the truth, all right," Her Majesty said. "There are a
few more details, of course--there was a girl Brubitsch was involved
with, Sir Kenneth. But she doesn't seem to have anything to do with
the spy ring, and besides, she isn't a very nice person. She always
wants money."

"Sounds perfectly lovely," Malone said. "As a matter of fact, I think
I know her. I know a lot of girls who always want money."

"You don't know this one, Sir Kenneth," Her Majesty said, "and
besides, she wouldn't be a good influence on you."

Malone sighed. "How about the static explosions?" he said. "Pick up
any more?"

"No," she said. "Just that one."

Malone nodded at the receiver. "All right," he said. "We're going to
bring in the second one now. Keep up the good work."

He hung up.

"Who've you got in the Observation Room?" Boyd asked.

"Queen Elizabeth I," Malone said. "Her Royal Majesty."

"Oh," Boyd said without surprise. "Well, was Brubitsch telling the
truth?"

"He wasn't holding back anything important," Malone said, thinking
about the girl. It would be nice to meet a bad influence, he thought
mournfully. It would be nice to go somewhere with a bad influence--a
bad influence, he amended, with a good figure--and forget all about
his job, about the spies, about telepathy, teleportation, psionics and
everything else. It might be rest