id that _all_ the telepaths were in Yucca Flats? All the ones
so far discovered were--but that, obviously, was an entirely different
matter.

Her majesty didn't know about any others, true. But Malone thought of
his own mind-shield. If he could make himself telepathically
"invisible," why couldn't someone else? Dr. Marshall's theories seemed
to point the other way--but they only went for telepaths like Her
Majesty, who were psychotic. A sane telepath, Malone thought, might
conceivably develop such a mind-shield.

All known telepaths were nuts, he told himself. Now, he began to see
why. He'd started out, two years before, _hunting_ for nuts, and for
idiots. But they wouldn't even know anything about sane telepaths--the
sane ones probably wouldn't even want to communicate with them.

A sane telepath was pretty much of an unknown quantity. But that,
Malone told himself with elation, was exactly what he was looking for.
Could a sane telepath do what an insane one couldn't--and project
thoughts, or at least mental bursts?

He got out of the cooling tub and grabbed for a terry-cloth robe. Not
even bothering about the time, he closed his eyes. When he opened them
again he was in the Yucca Flats apartment of Dr. Thomas O'Connor.

O'Connor wasn't sleeping, exactly. He sat in a chair in his
bare-looking living room, a book open on his lap, his head nodding
slightly. Malone's entrance made no sounds, and O'Connor didn't move
or look around.

"Doctor," Malone said, "is it possible that--"

O'Connor came up off the chair a good foot and a half. He went: "Eee,"
and came down again, still gripping the book. His head turned.

"It's me," Malone said.

"Indeed," O'Connor said. "Indeed indeed. My goodness." He opened his
mouth some more but no words came out of it. "Eee," he said again, at
last, in a conversational tone.

Malone took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I startled you," he said, "but
this is important and it couldn't wait." O'Connor stared blankly at
him. "Dr. O'Connor," Malone said, "it's me. Kenneth J. Malone. I want
to talk to you."

* * * * *

At last O'Connor's expression returned almost to normal. "Mr. Malone,"
he said, "you are undressed."

Malone sighed. "This is important, doctor," he said. "Let's not waste
time with all that kind of thing."

"But, Mr. Malone--" O'Connor began frostily.

"I need some information," Malone said, "and maybe you've got it. What
do you know abou