o happen in there.
You'll be along to bed right soon, darlin' Billy!"

He looked over at me. "Go on in, Tex," he said.

"Darlin' Billy!" I sneered.

"Don't pay any attention to her," he said. "She's in another
space-time continuum." I pointedly ogled the girl's pretty legs
going up the stairs and whistled softly. "My wife," he said,
blushing. "A powerful PC, or one day will be."

"You're kidding," I said. His arm on my elbow pushed me into the
lighted room.

* * * * *

It had been the front parlor of the old brownstone in its prime,
and was now fixed up as an office. The place held an executive
desk with several buttons and enough other controls to put it in
orbit. There were a number of cushioned straight-backed chairs
and a comfortable leather couch under the window. Only the fact
that it was getting on toward midnight made me willing to believe
that the couple who had walked down the stairs expected to be
taken seriously.

"This is George Robertson, the poker whiz," Lefty said briefly to
the two sleepy heads. "They call him Tex. Tex, this is Peter
Maragon, Grand Master of the Lodge."

The gray-haired man gave me a tired nod. "I imagine you're a
pretty angry young man, Mr. Robertson," he said in his scratchy
voice. I started to tell him quite a little about how I felt, but
he held up his hand. "I've had a hard day," he complained. "And I
got out of bed solely to adjudicate your case. Now, this will go
a lot more quickly if you listen." He smacked his lips a couple
times as if he wondered where he had left his partial plate. I
hoped he had swallowed it. "Sit down, sit down," he said
irritably, pointing at the chair across the desk from him.

I debated it, but took the chair, grinding my teeth.

"You aren't stupid, or you wouldn't be a scientist," he said,
revealing that he knew a lot more about me than I did about him.
"Let's start out with a couple facts."

He pointed a gnarled finger at Lefty. "Wally Bupp stacked a deck
of cards on you tonight," he said gruffly. "What you don't know
is that he stacked them with telekinesis. He's a TK."

"A snake!" I gasped.

"Watch your lip!" Maragon croaked. "Everybody in this room is a
psi. 'Snake' is a dirty word around here, Mr. Robertson. Mr. Bupp
has a special aversion to it."

"What's the purpose...?" I began hotly.

"Hah!" Maragon barked. "A good word!" He cackled a laugh at me.
"Purpose. Exactly, Mr. Robertson. Well, the L