"Does it happen at regular intervals?" Malone said.
"Not as far as I've been able to tell," Her Majesty said. "It just ... happens, that's all. There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it. Except that it did start when you were assigned to this case."
"Lovely," Malone said. "And what is it supposed to mean?"
"Interference," she said. "Static. Jumble. That's all it means. I just don't know any more than that, Sir Kenneth; I've never experienced anything like it in my life. It really does disturb me."
That, Malone told himself, he could believe. It must be an experience, he told himself, like having someone you were looking at suddenly dissolve into a jumble of meaningless shapes and lights.
"That's a very good analogy," Her Majesty said. "If you'll pardon me speaking before you've voiced your thought—"
"Not at all," Malone said. "Go right ahead."
"Well, then," Her Majesty said. "The analogy you use is a good one. It's just as disturbing and as meaningless as that."
"And you don't know what's causing it?" Malone said.
"I don't know," she said.