"There are other cases, plenty of them," I went on. "We have pyromaniacs who are perfectly harmless now because they have a deathly terror of flame. We have one fellow who used to be very nasty with a knife; he grows a beard now because the very thought of having a sharp edge that close to him is unnerving. The reality would send him screaming. We have a girl who had the weird idea that it was fun to drop things out of windows or off the tops of high buildings. Aside from the chance of people below being hurt, there was another danger. Two cops grabbed her just as she was about to drop her baby brother off the roof of her apartment house. "But we don't worry about her any more. People with acute acrophobia are in no condition to pull stunts like that." "What will you do to this Hammerlock Smith, then?" His Grace asked. "Actually, he's one of the simpler cases. A large percentage of our zanies lose control when they're under the influence of alcohol or drugs. Alcohol is by far the more common. Under the influence, they do things they would never do when sober. "As long as they remain sober, they have control. But, give them a few drinks and the control slips and then vanishes completely. One of our others was a little like Manny the Moog; he drove like a madman--which he was when he was drunk. Sober, he was as careful and cautious a driver as you'd want--a perfectly reliable citizen. But, after losing his license and the right to own a car, he'd still get drunk and steal cars. "He has his license back now, but we know we can trust him with it. He will never be able to take another drink. "Smith is of that type. So, apparently, is Nestor. When we get through with Smith, he'll be sober, and he'll stay that way to his grave." * * * * * "Astounding." The Duke looked at me again. "I can see the results, of course. I'm going to see that some sort of similar program is started in England, even if I have to stand up in the House of Lords to do it. But, I still don't understand how it can be done so rapidly--a matter of hours. What is the technique used?" "It all depends on the therapist," I said. "Brownlee is one of the best, but there are others who are almost as good. Some of the officers have started calling them _hexperts_ because, in effect, that's exactly what they do--put a hex on the patient." "A _geas_, in other words." I'd never heard the word before. "A what?" "A _geas_. A magical spell that causes a person to do or to refrain from doing some act, whether he will or no. He has no choice, once the _geas_ has been put on him." "That's it exactly." "But, man, it isn't magic we're discussing, is it?" "I don't know," I admitted frankly. "You tell me. Was it magic this morning when both you and I had a hunch that little Shirley was _not_ in the park, in spite of the way it looked? Was it magic when we eliminated, without even searching, every spot but the place where she actually was?"