"Sir Kenneth!" a voice said. "Will you please stop standing there with your eyes closed and help me with this poor child? She's fainted." Malone's eyes popped open, but for a minute he wasn't entirely sure he'd opened them. His visualization blended almost perfectly with the reality of the room around him. There was only one jarring difference. He had certainly never visualized the richly-dressed figure of Queen Elizabeth I standing in the center of the room. "Now, now," she said. "Thinking like that can only lead to confusion. Come over here and help me." * * * * * Dorothea was on the couch. Between them, they managed to wake her gently, and she sat up and stared around at them and the room. "I'm sorry," she said dazedly. "It's just that I didn't expect you to turn into a little old lady in Elizabethan costume. Just a bit disconcerting." She blinked. "By the way, who is she?" "This," Malone said with a sense of some foreboding, "is Queen Elizabeth I." "She's dead," Dorothea said decisively. "Not really, my dear," the Queen said. "Actually, you see ... well, it's too long to explain now." She gave everybody a bland smile. "She's nuts, then," Dorothea said. "She is nuts, isn't she? Because if she isn't, I am." "You're not crazy," Malone told her diplomatically. "But she--" He stopped. How could he explain everything, in front of the Queen herself? "Don't worry about it," Her Majesty said. "Dorothea is a little confused--but it hardly matters. Perhaps there are other things to do." "Sure," Malone said uncertainly. "By the way, how did you get here?" "Now, why do you ask that?" the Queen said. "You've already figured it all out, Sir Kenneth." "I don't get it," Dorothea put in. "Simple," Malone said. "She's telepathic. She's been listening in on our sessions for the past four days--she must have been. So now she can teleport, too." Dorothea looked at the little old lady in awe. "But how could you come to a place you'd never been to before?" "I got all the information I needed, my dear, out of Sir Kenneth's mind." "Sir Kenneth?" Dorothea said. "Sir ... Ken? His mind?" "Never mind it," Malone said. "What do I do now?" Her Majesty said: "Don't worry about anything. And use your own psionic talents. You can catch those dear boys now, you know. You're better than they are." "Me?" Malone said. "But they've had--" "Practice, of course," the Queen said. "But you have a talent they don't." "I do?" "Well," the Queen said, "you've been calling it 'luck' for years. You're much too modest, Sir Kenneth. If you'll think back, you'll remember that every time you had a bit of your so-called luck, it was because you were at the right place at the right time. There's no other way to explain the fact that you wandered at random through Greenwich Village--of all places!--and just happened to end up at the very same red Cadillac that young Mike was going to come to--_before he got there_!"