was one desperate hope. "This wasn't hallucination?" I
tried.

"No, Tex," he said calmly. "This was on the level. Just for fun,"
he went on. "Can you do it when there isn't any money riding on
it?"

Reluctantly I came back to his desk and looked down at the back
of the top card. "Heart," I said dully. I hit ten in a row for
him. The spade was on top four times, the heart six times.

"And was that on the level?" I asked.

He scowled at me and chewed his thin lips. "Yeah," he said.

"That settles it," I said, sagging back into my seat. "I'm a
snake. A rotten PC!"

"Don't you believe it!" Wally growled, lunging out of his chair.
He started to pace back and forth across the office, his chin
stuck way out ahead of him as he prowled. "I don't know what you
are, Tex," he declared. "But you're no PC!"

"I'm a Normal after all!" I gasped, feeling a surge of blessed
relief.

He swiped at the air with a hand. "Don't be silly!" he snapped.
"You've got a psi power so incredible that--" He whirled on me
while I died for good.

"You explain it," he insisted. "After your lovely Dr. King flew
out of here, I shuffled the cards ten times under the desk, and
you hit ten in a row, right?"

"Right." Dismally.

"I cheated on the shuffle," he told me. "I used TK to make sure
that I put the two of spades on top all ten times."

"No," I insisted. "Six times the heart was on top. You turned
them over yourself."

"That's just it," he whispered, leaning toward me. "_I put that
spade on top every time!_ I _did_! But when I turned it over,
more than half the time it was a heart. What did you do?"

"You mean I'm a hallucinator?" I asked. "Look, this is getting
ridiculous! I was kidding myself, too?"

"Nonsense. It was real." His face jerked in surprise. "You
couldn't!" he gasped, as the idea hit him. "But you did!" he
reminded himself. "Wait till Maragon hears this!"

And then he told me. It couldn't be, I knew. But it _was_. He
proved it to me--or I proved it to us.

At some stage you have to get excited about it, if it's no more
than a grisly fascination. At that, it was dawn before we could
stop our intoxicated talk. Maragon had been yanked out of bed
again, and when he heard the news, woke up a darned sight faster
than the night before. Pheola of the race-horse legs joined us,
and several other psis as well. Before it was over the Grand
Master had put on a ridiculous piece of regalia and mumbled me
into probationary membe