"How sweet of you, Mr. Malone," she said. "Nobody's called me that for centuries. But of course I can. Although it's not reading, really. After all, that would be like asking if I can read your voice. Of course I can, Mr. Malone." "That does it," Malone said. "I'm not a hard man to convince. And when I see the truth, I'm the first one to admit it, even if it makes me look like a nut." He turned back to the little old lady. "Begging your pardon," he said. "Oh, my," the little old lady said. "I really don't mind at all. Sticks and stones, you know, can break my bones. But being called nuts, Mr. Malone, can never hurt me. After all, it's been so many years--so many hundreds of years--" "Sure," Malone said easily. Boyd broke in. "Listen, Malone," he said. "Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on?" "It's very simple," Malone said. "Miss Thompson here--pardon me; I mean Queen Elizabeth I--really is a telepath. That's all. I think I want to lie down somewhere until it goes away." "Until what goes away?" Miss Wilson said. Malone stared at her almost without seeing her, if not quite. "Everything," he said. He closed his eyes. "My goodness," the little old lady said after a second. "Everything's so confused. Poor Mr. Malone is terribly shaken up by everything." She stood up, still holding her knitting, and went across the room. Before the astonished eyes of the doctor and nurse, and Tom Boyd, she patted the FBI agent on the shoulder. "There, there, Mr. Malone," she said. "It will all be perfectly all right. You'll see." Then she returned to her seat. Malone opened his eyes. "My God," he said. He closed them again but they flew open as if of their own accord. He turned to Dr. Harman. "You called up Boyd here," he said, "and told him that--er--Miss Thompson was a telepath. How'd you know?" "It's all right," the little old lady put in from her chair. "I don't mind your calling me Miss Thompson, not right now, anyhow." "Thanks," Malone said faintly. Dr. Harman was blinking in a kind of befuddled astonishment. "You mean she really _is_ a--" He stopped and brought his tenor voice to a squeaking halt, regained his professional poise, and began again. "I'd rather not discuss the patient in her presence, Mr. Malone," he said. "If you'll just come into my office--" "Oh, _bosh_, Dr. Harman," the little old lady said primly. "I do wish you'd give your own Queen credit for some ability. Goodness knows you think _you're_ smart enough." "Now, now, Miss Thompson," he said in what was obviously his best Grade A Choice Government Inspected couchside manner. "Don't--" "--upset yourself," she finished for him. "Now, really, Doctor. I know what you're going to tell them." "But Miss Thompson, I--"