"That's right," Her Majesty said. "His name is Barry Miles, and your FBI
men found him an hour ago in New Orleans. They're bringing him to Yucca
Flats to meet the rest of us; isn't that nice?"
Lady Barbara cleared her throat.
"It really isn't necessary for you to try to get my attention, dear,"
the Queen said. "After all, I do know what you're thinking."
Lady Barbara blinked. "I still want to suggest, respectfully, about that
nap--" she began.
"My dear girl," the Queen said, with the faintest trace of impatience,
"I do not feel the least bit tired, and this is such an exciting day
that I just don't want to miss any of it. Besides, I've already told you
I don't want a nap. It isn't polite to be insistent to your Queen--no
matter how strongly you feel about a matter. I'm sure you'll learn to
understand that, dear."
Lady Barbara opened her mouth, shut it again, and opened it once more.
"My goodness," she said.
"That's the idea," Her Majesty said approvingly. "Think before you
speak--and then don't speak. It really isn't necessary, since I know
what you're thinking."
Malone said grimly: "About this new telepath ... this Barry Miles. Did
they find him--"
"In a nut-house?" Her Majesty said sweetly. "Why, of course, Sir
Kenneth. You were quite right when you thought that telepaths went
insane because they had a sense they couldn't effectively use, and
because no one believed them. How would you feel, if nobody believed you
could see?"
"Strange," Malone admitted.
"There," Her Majesty said. "You see? Telepaths do go insane--it's sort
of an occupational disease. Of course, not all of them are insane."
"Not all of them?" Malone felt the faint stirrings of hope. Perhaps they
would turn up a telepath yet who was completely sane and rational.
"There's me, of course," Her Majesty said.
Lady Barbara gulped audibly. Boyd said nothing, but gripped the wheel of
the car more tightly.
And Malone thought to himself: _That's right. There's Queen
Elizabeth--who says she isn't crazy._
And then he thought of one more sane telepath. But the knowledge did not
make him feel any better.
It was, of course, the spy.
How many more are going to turn up? Malone wondered.
"Oh, that's about all of us," the Queen said. "There is one more, but
she's in a hospital in Honolulu, and your men won't find her until
tomorrow."
[Illustration: Sir Thomas Boyd ... looking majestic.]
Boyd turned. "Do you mean you can foretell the future, too?" he asked in
a strained voice.
Lady Barbara screamed: "Keep your eyes on the wheel and your hands on
the road!"
"What?" Boyd said.
There was a terrific blast of noise, and a truck went by in the opposite
direction. The driver, a big, ugly man with no hair on his head, leaned
out to curse at the quartet, but his mouth remained open. He stared at
the four Elizabethans and said nothing at all as he whizzed by.
"What was that?" Boyd asked faintly.
"That," Malone snapped, "was a truck. And it was due entirely to the
mercy of God that we didn't hit it. Barbara's right. Keep your eyes on
the wheel and your hands on the road." He paused and thought that over.
Then he said: "Does that mean anything at all?"
"Lady Barbara was confused by the excitement," the Queen said calmly.
"It's all right now, dear."
Lady Barbara blinked across the seat. "I was--afraid," she said.
"It's all right," the Queen said. "I'll take care of you."
"This," Malone announced to no one in particular, "is ridiculous."
* * * * *
Boyd swept the car around a curve and concentrated grimly on the road.
After a second the Queen said: "Since you're still thinking about the
question, I'll answer you."
"What question?" Malone said, thoroughly baffled.
"Sir Thomas asked me if I could foretell the future," the Queen said
equably. "Of course I can't. That's silly. Just because I'm immortal and
I'm a telepath, don't go hog-wild."
"Then how did you know the FBI agents were going to find the girl in
Honolulu tomorrow?" Boyd said.
"Because," the Queen said, "they're thinking about looking in the
hospital tomorrow, and when they look they'll certainly find her."
Boyd said: "Oh," and was silent.
But Malone had a grim question. "Why didn't you tell me about these
other telepaths before?" he said. "You could have saved us a lot of
work."
"Oh, heavens to Betsy, Sir Kenneth," Her Majesty exclaimed. "How could
I? After all, the proper precautions had to be taken first, didn't they?
I told you all the others were crazy--_really_ crazy, I mean. And they
just wouldn't be safe without the proper precautions."
"Perhaps you ought to go back to the hospital, too," Barbara said, and
added: "Your Majesty," just in time.
"But if I did, dear," Her Majesty said, "you'd lose your chance to
become a Duchess, and that wouldn't be at all nice. Besides, I'm having
so much _fun_!" She trilled a laugh again. "Riding around like this is
just wonderful!" she said.
_And you're important for national security_, Malone said to himself.
"That's right, Sir Kenneth," the Queen said. "The country needs me, and
I'm happy to serve. That is the job of a sovereign."
"Fine," Malone said, hoping it was.
"Well, then," said Her Majesty, "that settles that. We have a whole
night ahead of us, Sir Kenneth. What do you say we make a night _of_
it?"
"Knight who?" Malone said. He felt confused again. It seemed as if he
was always feeling confused lately.
"Don't be silly, Sir Kenneth," Her Majesty said. "There are times and
times."
"Sure," Malone said at random. _And time and a half_, he thought.
_Possibly for overtime._ "What is Your Majesty thinking of?" he asked
with trepidation.
"I want to take a tour of Las Vegas," Her Majesty said primly.
Lady Barbara shook her head. "I'm afraid that's not possible, Your
Majesty," she said.
"And why not, pray?" Her Majesty said. "No. I can see what you're
thinking. It's not safe to let me go wandering around in a strange city,
and particularly if that city is Las Vegas. Well, dear, I can assure you
that it's perfectly safe."
"We've got work to do," Boyd contributed.
Malone said nothing. He stared bleakly at the hood ornament on the car.
"I have made my wishes known," the Queen said.