"Honest Tony Carlucci," he said. "If you need a used 'copter, Joe, jet on down to my dock. Nothing down. Listen, I got one that was never used except in the spring by a little old lady who gave up walking for Lent. I'll tell you what I'll do--" "Wasting your time," Anita told him. "The Government provides Mr. Tinker with any kind of transportation he needs. A thousand thanks, Tony. I won't forget--" The rest was cut off as she gave him one of the more polite bum's rushes. I think he would have liked to hang around to see the rest of our little amateur theatrical. * * * * * Fred had his grin going. "Couldn't get the drift for a minute, Gyp," he said, clapping me on the shoulder. "Nice work! Now I know why I get such a kick out of working for you!" He whirled on Maude Tinker. "And you, you foolish old biddy! How far do you think you would get with an act like this against another telepath?" She spat a curse at him in Romany. "So smart!" she sneered. "There isn't another telepath in the city of Washington!" That was a laugh. For its own safety the F.B.I. has its own gang of tame TP's--they are all, of course, exceptionally short-range telepaths, and we practically keep them under lock and key to make sure some important thoughts don't leak in and out of their diseased minds. "Send in Freeda Sayer," I said, leaning down to press the intercommute. Freeda is a thick-ankled, thick-headed telepath. But stupid or not, she is telepathic, and _is_ an acid test in these cases. "Is this woman a telepath?" I asked Freeda, when she stumped in. Freeda looked at Maude Tinker, her mouth hanging a little open. She snuffled and walked quite close to the gypsy woman. "Yeah," she said. "She knows I'm thinking her hem is torn." She turned her head with that low-thyroid slowness to me. "Is that all, Mr. Tinker?" she asked. Fred answered. "Swell, Freeda. That's all." Freeda wandered out. Fred said: "O.K., Gyp. What'll I do with her?" "Sit down, Mrs. ... it is Mrs., isn't it? ... Mrs. Tinker, won't you please?" I said in answer to his question. She took the chair Anita had been using when Tony was pretending to be me, and I sat down in my swivel across the desk from her. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Tinker," I said. "It's bad enough that you have deliberately stayed in the District after all telepaths were most stringently warned to register with us so that we could move them to less sensitive areas. But I take it quite hard that you have tried to embarrass me." "That would take a little doing," she said. "You've got a heart like a piece of flint. Let me see your palm!" she demanded, reaching imperatively across my desk. Fred started to protest, but I passed my hand across to her, leaning forward so that she could reach it.