"I don't mean that sort of thing," Malone said. "There's lots about astral bodies and ghosts, ectoplasm, Transcendental Yoga, theosophy, deros, the Great Pyramid, Atlantis, and other such pediculous pets. That's just silly, as far as I can see. But what they have to say about parapsychology and psionics as such does seem to be reasonably accurate." "I suppose so," Boyd said tiredly. "O.K., then," Malone said. "Did anybody notice anything in that pile of stuff that might conceivably have any bearing whatever on our problems?" "I did," Boyd said. "Or I think I did." "You both did," Her Majesty said. "And so did I, when I looked through it. But I didn't bother with it. I dismissed it." "Why?" Malone said. "Because I don't think it's true," she said. "However, my opinion is really only an opinion." She smiled around at the others. Malone picked up a thick sheaf of papers from one of the piles of his desk. "Let's get straight what it is we're talking about," he said. "All right?" "Anything's all right with me," Boyd said. "I'm easy to please." Malone nodded. "Now, this writer ... what's his name?" he said. He glanced at the copy of the cover page. "'Minds and Morons'," he read. "By Cartier Taylor." "Great title," Boyd said. "Does he say which is which?" "Let's get back to serious business," Malone said, giving Boyd a single look. There was silence for a second, and then Malone said: "He mentions something, in the book, that he calls 'telepathic projection.' As far as I understand what he's talking about, that's some method of forcing your thoughts on another person." He glanced over at the Queen. "Now, Your Majesty," he said, "you don't think it's true--and that may only be an opinion, but it's a pretty informed one. It seems to me as if Taylor makes a good case for this 'telepathic projection' of his. Why don't you think so?" "Because," Her Majesty said flatly, "it doesn't work." "You've tried it?" Boyd put in. "I have," she said. "And I have had no success with it at all. It's a complete failure." * * * * * "Now, wait a minute," Boyd said. "Just a minute." "What's the matter?" Malone said. "Have you tried it, and made it work?" Boyd snorted. "Fat chance," he said. "I just want to look at the thing, that's all." He held out his hand, and Malone gave him the sheaf of papers. Boyd leafed through them slowly, stopping every now and again to consult a page, until he found what he was looking for. "There," he said. "There, what?" Malone said.