“Hmpf,” Burris said. “I’m busy all the time. I haven’t got any extra time for practice.”
Malone nodded, comparatively unsurprised. He’d wondered for years how a man so obviously unable to express himself clearly could run an organization like the FBI as well as he did. Having psionic abilities evidently led to drawbacks as well as advantages.
“Actually,” he said, “my prescience made one mistake.”
“Really?” Burris said, looking both worried and pleased about it.
“I expected the place to be full of people,” Malone said. “I thought the elite corps of the PRS would be here.”
“Oh,” Burris said, looking crestfallen.
“Why, that was no mistake,” Sir Lewis said. “As a matter of fact, they are all here. But they’re quite busy at the moment; things are coning to a head, you know, and they must work quite undisturbed.”
“And this,” Burris added, “is a good place for it. There are sixty rooms in this house. Sixty.”
“That’s a lot of rooms,” Malone said politely.
“A mansion,” Burris said. “A positive mansion. And my family has lived here ever since—”