Apparently Boyd had come to believe that, too. At any rate, though he was still truculent, there were no more outbursts of rebellion. But, on the fourth day: "What do we do now?" Burris asked. "Shoot ourselves," Boyd said promptly. "Now, look here--" Malone began, but he was overruled. "Boyd," Burris said levelly, "if I hear any more of that sort of pessimism, you're going to be an exception to the beard rule. One more crack out of you, and you can go out and buy yourself a razor." Boyd put his hand over his chin protectively, and said nothing at all. "Wait a minute," Malone said. "Aren't there any _sane_ telepaths in the world?" "We can't find any," Burris said. "We--" There was a knock at the office door. "Who's there?" Burris called. "Dr. Gamble," said the man's surprisingly baritone voice. Burris called: "Come in, Doctor," and the door opened. Dr. Gamble's lean face looked almost haggard. "Mr. Burris," he said, extending his arms a trifle, "can't anything be done?" Malone had seen Gamble speaking before, and had wondered if it would be possible for the man to talk with his hands tied behind his back. Apparently it wouldn't be. "We feel that we are approaching a critical stage in Project Isle," the scientist said, enclosing one fist within the other hand. "If anything more gets out to the Soviets, we might as well publish our findings--" a wide, outflung gesture of both arms--"in the newspapers." Burris stepped back. "We're doing the best we can, Dr. Gamble," he said. All things considered, his obvious try at radiating confidence was nearly successful. "After all," he went on, "we know a great deal more than we did four days ago. Miss Thompson has assured us that the spy is right here, within the compound of Yucca Flats Labs. We've bottled everything up in this compound, and I'm confident that no information is at present getting through to the Soviet Government. Miss Thompson agrees with me." "Miss Thompson?" Gamble said, one hand at his bearded chin. "The Queen," Burris said. Gamble nodded and two fingers touched his forehead. "Ah," he said. "Of course." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "But we can't keep everybody who's here now locked up forever. Sooner or later we'll have to let them--" His left hand described the gesture of a man tossing away a wad of paper--"go." His hands fell to his sides. "We're lost, unless we can find that spy." "We'll find him," Burris said with a show of great confidence. "But--" "Give her time," Burris said. "Give her time. Remember her mental condition." Boyd looked up. "Rome," he said in an absent fashion, "wasn't built in a daze." Burris glared at him, but said nothing. Malone filled the conversational hole with what he thought would be nice, and hopeful, and untrue. "We know he's someone on the reservation, so we'll catch him eventually," he said. "And as long as his information isn't getting into Soviet hands, we're safe." He glanced at his wristwatch. Dr. Gamble said: "But--"