The entire procession filed into the hospital office, the two local agents following up the rear. Since they were not a part of Her Majesty's personal retinue, they had not been required to wear court costumes. In a way, Malone was beginning to feel sorry for them. He himself cut a nice figure in the outfit, he thought--rather like Errol Flynn in the old black-and-white print of _The Prince and the Pauper_. But there was no denying that the procession looked strange. File clerks and receptionists stopped their work to gape at the four bedizened walkers and their plainly dressed satellites. Malone needed no telepathic talent to tell what they were thinking. "A whole roundup of nuts," they were thinking. "And those two fellows in the back must be bringing them in--along with Dr. Dowson." Malone straightened his spine. Really, he didn't see why Elizabethan costumes had ever gone out of style. Elizabeth was back, wasn't she-- either Elizabeth II, on the throne, or Elizabeth I, right behind him. Either way you looked at it.... When they were all inside the waiting room, Dr. Dowson said: "Now, Mr. Malone, just what is all this about?" He rubbed his long hands together. "I fail to see the humor of the situation." "Humor?" Malone said. "Doctor," Barbara Wilson began, "let me explain. You see--" "These ridiculous costumes," Dr. Dowson said, waving a hand at them. "You may feel that poking fun at insanity is humorous, Mr. Malone, but let me tell you--" "It wasn't like that at all," Boyd said. "And," Dr. Dowson continued in a somewhat louder voice, "wanting to take Mr. Logan away from us. Mr. Logan is a very sick man, Mr. Malone. He should be properly cared for." "I promise we'll take good care of him," Malone said earnestly. The Elizabethan clothes were fine outdoors, but in a heated room one had a tendency to sweat. "I take leave to doubt that," Dr. Dowson said, eyeing their costumes pointedly. "Miss Wilson here," Malone volunteered, "is a trained psychiatric nurse." Barbara, in her gown, stepped forward. "Dr. Dowson," she said, "let me assure you that these costumes have their purpose. We--" "Not only that," Malone said. "There are a group of trained men from St. Elizabeths Hospital in Washington who are going to take the best of care of him." He said nothing whatever about Yucca Flats, or about telepathy. Why spread around information unnecessarily? "But I don't understand," Dr. Dowson said. "What interest could the FBI have in an insane man?" "That's none of your business," Malone said. He reached inside his fur-trimmed robe and, again suppressing a tendency to bow deeply, withdrew an impressive-looking legal document. "This," he said, "is a court order, instructing you to hand over to us the person of one William Logan, herein identified and described." He waved it at the Doctor. "That's your William Logan," he said, "only now he's ours."