There was another hurried consultation. The four psychiatrists came out of it with a somewhat shaky statement to the effect that treatments which had been proven to have some therapeutic value ought not to be discontinued, although of course there was always the chance that….
"Thank you, gentlemen," Malone said smoothly. He could see that they were nervous, and no wonder; he could imagine how difficult it was for a psychiatrist to talk about a patient in her presence. But they'd already realized that it didn't make any difference; their thoughts were an open book, anyway.
Lady Barbara said: "Sir—I mean Ken—are you going to—"
"What's this all about?" Burris snapped.
"Just a minute, Sir Andrew," Malone said. "I'd like to ask one of the doctors here—or all of them, for that matter—one more question." He whirled and faced them. "I'm assuming that not one of these persons is legally responsible for his or her actions. Is that correct?"
Another hurried huddle. The psych boys were beginning to remind Malone of a semi-pro football team in rather unusual uniforms.
Finally one of them said: "You are correct. According to the latest statutes, all of these persons are legally insane—including Her Majesty." He paused and gulped. "I except the FBI, of course—and ourselves." Another pause. "And Dr. O'Connor and Dr. Gamble."
"And," said Lady Barbara, "me." She smiled sweetly at them all.
"Ah," the psychiatrist said. "Certainly. Of course." He retired into his group with some confusion.
Malone was looking straight at the throne. Her Majesty's countenance was serene and unruffled.