He was a pyrotic."

"That is a false accusation--"

"It was never proved," admitted the lieutenant, "because any one who
accused anybody of making use of extrasensory faculties in 1971 would
have been tossed into that establishment out on Narragansett Avenue
where the headshrinkers once plied their mystic trade."

"Things are different now."

"Indeed they are, Wally. Which is why I'm here. No one but a fumbling
idiot would try anything as crude as speeding a dog over the line by
pyrotics or by jolting the animals with a bolt of electrical energy."

"So--?"

"So considering the sad and sorry fact that human nature does not change
very much despite the vast possibility for improvement, we must
anticipate a fix that has been contrived and executed on a level that
takes full cognizance of the widespread presence of psi-function."

"But again, why me?"

"Was not 'Fireman' O'Leary an ancestor of yours?"

"He was my maternal grandparent."

"And so you do indeed come from a long line of horse operators, don't
you?"

"I resent your invidious implications."

"And wasn't 'Wireless' Wilson the paternal ancestor from whom the family
name has come?"

"I fail to see ... the allegation that my father's father employed
telepathy to transmit track information faster than the wire services
has never been proved."

He smiled knowingly. "Wally," he said slowly, "if you feel that
allegations have somehow impugned the pure name of your family, you
could apply for a review of their several appearances in court. It's
possible that 'Fireman' O'Leary did _not_ use his pyrotic talent to
enhance the running speed of some tired old dogs."

"But--"

"So I think we understand one another, Wally. There is also reason to
believe that psionic talent tends to run in families. You're a psi-man
and a good one."

"If I hear of anything--"

"You'll let me know," he said flatly. "And if Flying Heels, Moonbeam,
_and-or_ Lady Grace even so much as succeed in staying on their feet for
the whole race, I'll be back demanding to know how you--Wally
Wilson--managed to hold them up!"

After which the good Lieutenant Delancey left me to my thoughts--which
were most uncomfortable.

Barcelona had to be kept cheerful. But the dogs he'd picked could only
come in first unassisted if they happened to be leading the field that
started the _next_ race, and even then the post time would have to be
delayed to give them a longer head start. That meant