," Burris said flatly. "Miss Rose Thompson is a nice,
sweet, little old lady. I admit that."

"And she's been a lot of help," Malone said.

"I admit that, too," Burris said. "But she is also somewhat battier,
Malone, than the entire Order Chiroptera, including Count Dracula and
all his happy friends."

"She only thinks she's Queen Elizabeth I," Malone said defensively.

"That," Burris said, "is a large sort of _only_. Malone, you've got to
look at the facts sensibly. Square in the face."

Malone pictured a lot of facts going by with square faces. He didn't
like the picture. "All right," he said.

"Things are going wrong in the Congressional computer-secretaries,"
Burris said. "So I assign you to the case. You come back to me with
three spies, and the trouble stops. And what other information have
you got?"

"Plenty," Malone said, and stopped for thought. There was a long
pause.

"All this business about mysterious psionic faculties," Burris said,
"comes direct from the testimony of that sweet little old twitch.
Which she is. Dr. O'Connor, for instance, has told you in so many
words that there's no such thing as this mysterious force. And if you
don't want to take the word of the nation's foremost authority,
there's this character from the Psychical Research Society--Carter, or
whatever his name is. Carter told you he'd never heard of such a
thing."

"But that doesn't mean there isn't such a thing," Malone said.

"Even your own star witness," Burris said, "even the Queen herself,
told you it couldn't be done."

"Nevertheless--" Malone began. But he felt puzzled. There was no way,
he decided, to finish a sentence that started with _nevertheless_. It
was the wrong kind of word.

"What are you trying to do?" Burris said. "Beat your head against a
stone wall?"

Malone realized that that was just what he felt like. Of course,
Burris thought the stone wall was his psionic theory. Malone knew that
the stone wall was Andrew J. Burris. But it didn't matter, he thought
confusedly. Where there's a stone, there's a way.

"I feel," he said carefully, "like a man with a stone head."

"And I don't blame you," Burris said in an understanding tone. "Here
you are trying to make evidence to fit your theories. What real
evidence is there, Malone, that these three spies ... these three
comic-opera spies--are innocent?"

"What evidence is there that they're guilty?" Malone said. "Now,
listen, Chief--"

"Don't call me C