nd you can go out and buy yourself a razor."

Boyd put his hand over his chin protectively, and said nothing at all.

"Wait a minute," Malone said. "Aren't there any _sane_ telepaths in the
world?"

"We can't find any," Burris said. "We--"

There was a knock at the office door.

"Who's there?" Burris called.

"Dr. Gamble," said the man's surprisingly baritone voice.

Burris called: "Come in, doctor," and the door opened. Dr. Gamble's lean
face looked almost haggard.

"Mr. Burris," he said, extending his arms a trifle, "can't anything be
done?" Malone had seen Gamble speaking before, and had wondered if it
would be possible for the man to talk with his hands tied behind his
back. Apparently it wouldn't be. "We feel that we are approaching a
critical stage in Project Isle," the scientist said, enclosing one fist
within the other hand. "If anything more gets out to the Soviets, we
might as well publish our findings"--a wide, outflung gesture of both
arms--"in the newspapers."

Burris stepped back. "We're doing the best we can, Dr. Gamble," he said.
All things considered, his obvious try at radiating confidence was
nearly successful. "After all," he went on, "we know a great deal more
than we did four days ago. Miss Thompson has assured us that the spy is
right here, within the compound of Yucca Flats Labs. We've bottled
everything up in this compound, and I'm confident that no information is
at present getting through to the Soviet Government. Miss Thompson
agrees with me."

"Miss Thompson?" Gamble said, one hand at his bearded chin.

"The Queen," Burris said.

Gamble nodded and two fingers touched his forehead. "Ah," he said. "Of
course." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "But we can't keep everybody
who's here now locked up forever. Sooner or later we'll have to let
them"--his left hand described the gesture of a man tossing away a wad
of paper--"go." His hands fell to his sides. "We're lost, unless we can
find that spy."

"We'll find him," Burris said with a show of great confidence.

"But--"

"Give her time," Burris said. "Give her time. Remember her mental
condition."

Boyd looked up. "Rome," he said in an absent fashion, "wasn't built in a
daze."

Burris glared at him, but said nothing. Malone filled the conversational
hole with what he thought would be nice, and hopeful, and untrue.

"We know he's someone on the reservation, so we'll catch him
eventually," he said. "And as long as his inform