After he’d hung up, Malone called Her Majesty at her Washington hotel. She was very glad of the chance to return to Yucca Flats, she said. There, Malone knew, she would be able to return to her accustomed dignity as Queen of the Greater English Commonwealth, a district which, in her mind, seemed to include the greater part of the Western world. On her present mission, she was plain Miss Thompson and, though the idea of going about incognito had its charms, it became a little dull after awhile. The adventuring was fine, although a little rougher than she’d thought it would be; the sight of the Queen’s Own FBI in action was still a powerful attraction for Her Majesty. But the peace and quiet and dignity of Her Own Royal Palace won out without too much trouble. “Of course,” Malone said, “you’ll be on call in case I need you.” “I am always in touch with my subjects,” Her Majesty said with dignity, “and most especially with you, Sir Kenneth. I shall so remain.” And then there was a little paperwork to take care of. By the time Malone had finished, he would have been glad to teleport to New York on his own. But on reflection he decided that he would much rather travel with Lou, and hurried down to the airport. By the time the plane landed at La Guardia, and they’d taken a ’copter to the East Side Terminal and a taxi to the big blue-aluminum-and-glass Ravell Building, Malone had reached a new decision. It would be nothing short of wonderful, he felt, if he could spend the rest of his life traveling around with Luba Garbitsch. Of course, that name was something of a handicap. It was hardly a romantic one. He wondered, very briefly, whether or not “Luba Malone” were an improvement. But he buried the thought before it got any further. Enough, he told himself firmly, was enough. “It’s been a nice trip,” Lou said. She, too, sounded subdued, as if she were thinking about something terribly serious. “Great,” Malone said happily. “A wonderful trip.” “I enjoyed being with you,” Lou said. “Me, too,” Malone said. He paid off the taxi-driver and they got out at the corner. Malone went to the newsstand there and picked up a copy of the _Post_. “That,” Lou said over his shoulder, “is one whole hell of a headline.” It filled the entire page, four lines of thick black capitals: JUDGE DROPS UNION SUIT! “Well, well,” Malone said. “Let’s see what this is all about.” He flipped to page three. Lou craned her neck over his shoulder and they read the start of the story together. DISTRICT COURT RULES UNION HAS NO CASE