Dr. O'Connor suddenly reminded Malone of a professor he'd had in college for one of the law courses. He had, Malone thought, the same smiling gravity of demeanor, the same condescending attitude of absolute authority. It was clear that Dr. O'Connor lived in a world of his own, a world that was not even touched by the common run of men.
"Well," he began, "to put it very simply, the device indicates whether or not a man's mental ... ah ... processes are being influenced by outside ... by outside influences." He gave the cameras another little smile. "If you will allow me, I will demonstrate on the machine itself."
He took two steps that carried him out of camera range, and returned wheeling a large heavy-looking box. Dangling from the metal covering were a number of wires and attachments. A long cord led from the box to the floor, and snaked out of sight to the left.
"Now," Dr. O'Connor said. He selected a single lead, apparently, Malone thought, at random. "This electrode—"
"Just a moment, doctor," Burris said. He was eying the machine with a combination of suspicion and awe. "A while back you mentioned something about 'outside influences.' Just what, specifically, does that mean?"
With some regret, Dr. O'Connor dropped the lead. "Telepathy," he said. "By outside influences, I meant influences on the mind, such as telepathy or mind reading of some nature."
"I see," Burris said. "You can detect a telepath with this machine."
"I'm afraid—"
"Well, some kind of a mind reader anyhow," Burris said. "We won't quarrel about terms."