Dr. O'Connor frowned. "I'm afraid that I can't be sure," he said, and it was clear from his tone that, if Dr. Thomas O'Connor wasn't sure, no one in the entire world was, had been, or ever would be. "I do have a theory, however," he said, brightening up a trifle. Malone waited patiently. "He must know our limitations," Dr. O'Connor said at last. "He must be perfectly well aware that there's not a single thing we can _do_ about him. He must know that we can neither find nor stop him. Why should he worry? He can afford to ignore us--or even bait us. We're helpless, and he knows it." That, Malone thought, was about the most cheerless thought he had heard in sometime. "You mentioned that you had an insulated room," the FBI agent said after a while. "Couldn't you let your men think in there?" Dr. O'Connor sighed. "The room is shielded against magnetic fields and electro-magnetic radiation. It is perfectly transparent to psionic phenomena, just as it is to gravitational fields." "Oh," Malone said. He realized rapidly that his question had been a little silly to begin with, since the insulated room had been the place where all the tests had been conducted in the first place. "I don't want to take up too much of your time, Doctor," he said after a pause, "but there are a couple of other questions." "Go right ahead," Dr. O'Connor said. "I'm sure I'll be able to help you." Malone thought of mentioning how little help the Doctor had been to date, but decided against it. Why antagonize a perfectly good scientist without any reason? Instead, he selected his first question, and asked it. "Have you got any idea how we might lay our hands on another telepath? Preferably one that's not an imbecile, of course." Dr. O'Connor's expression changed from patient wisdom to irritation. "I wish we could, Mr. Malone. I wish we could. We certainly need one here to help us here with our work--and I'm sure that your work is important, too. But I'm afraid we have no ideas at all about finding another telepath. Finding little Charlie was purely fortuitous-- purely, Mr. Malone, fortuitous." "Ah," Malone said. "Sure. Of course." He thought rapidly and discovered that he couldn't come up with one more question. As a matter of fact, he'd asked a couple of questions already, and he could barely remember the answers. "Well," he said, "I guess that's about it, then, Doctor. If you come across anything else, be sure and let me know." He leaned across the desk, extending a hand. "And thanks for your time," he added. Dr. O'Connor stood up and shook his hand. "No trouble, I assure you," he said. "And I'll certainly give you all the information I can." Malone turned and walked out. Surprisingly, he discovered that his feet and legs still worked. He had thought they'd turned to stone in the office long before. * * * * * It was on the plane back to Washington that Malone got his first inkling of an idea.