The little old lady smiled at him. "Why, because you wouldn't have believed me," she said. She dropped her knitting neatly in her lap and folded her hands over it. "None of you _wanted_ to believe me," she said, and sniffed. Miss Wilson moved nervously and she looked up. "And don't tell me it's going to be all right. I know it's going to be all right. I'm going to make sure of that." Malone felt a sudden chill. But it was obvious, he told himself, that the little old lady didn't mean what she was saying. She smiled at him again, and her smile was as sweet and guileless as the smile on the face of his very own sainted grandmother. Not that Malone remembered his grandmother; she had died before he'd been born. But if he'd had a grandmother, and if he'd remembered her, he was sure she would have had the same sweet smile. So she couldn't have meant what she'd said. Would Malone's own grandmother make things difficult for him? The very idea was ridiculous. Dr. Harman opened his mouth, apparently changed his mind, and shut it again. The little old lady turned to him. "Were you going to ask why I bothered to prove anything to Mr. Malone?" she said. "Of course you were, and I shall tell you. It's because Mr. Malone _wanted_ to believe me. He _wants_ me. He _needs_ me. I'm a telepath, and that's enough for Mr. Malone. Isn't it?" "Gur," Malone said, taken by surprise. After a second he added: "I guess so." "You see, doctor?" the little old lady said. "But you--" Dr. Harman began. "I read minds," the little old lady said. "That's right, doctor. That's what makes me a telepath." Malone's brain was whirling rapidly, like a distant galaxy. "Telepath" was a nice word, he thought. How did you telepath from a road? Simple. A road is paved. Malone thought that was pretty funny, but he didn't laugh. He thought he would never laugh again. He wanted to cry, a little, but he didn't think he'd be able to manage that either. He twisted his hat, but it didn't make him feel any better. Gradually, he became aware that the little old lady was talking to Dr. Harman again. "But," she said, "since it will make you feel so much better, doctor, we give you our Royal permission to retire, and to speak to Mr. Malone alone." "Malone alone," Dr. Harman muttered. "Hm-m-m. My. Well." He turned and seemed to be surprised that Malone was actually standing near him. "Yes," he said. "Well. Mr. Alone ... Malone ... please, whoever you are, just come into my office, please?" Malone looked at the little old lady. One of her eyes closed and opened. It was an unmistakable wink. Malone grinned at her in what he hoped was a cheerful manner. "All right," he said to the psychiatrist, "let's go." He turned with the barest trace of regret, and Boyd followed him. Leaving the little old lady and, unfortunately, the startling Miss Wilson, behind, the procession filed back into Dr. Harman's office. * * * * *