"Your Majesty understands the conditions?" Malone asked.
"Perfectly," said the Queen. "Proceed."
Now the expression on Barbara's face changed, to wonder and a kind of fright. Malone didn't look at her. Instead, he turned to Dr. O'Connor.
"Dr. O'Connor, what are your plans for the telepaths who have been brought here?" He shot the question out quickly, and O'Connor was caught off-balance.
"Well ... ah ... we would like their co-operation in further research which we ... ah ... plan to do into the actual mechanisms of telepathy. Provided, of course"—he coughed gently—"provided that they become ... ah ... accessible. Miss ... I mean, of course, Her Majesty has ... already been a great deal of help." He gave Malone an odd look. It seemed to say: what's coming next?
Malone simply gave him a nod, and a "Thank you, doctor," and turned to Burris. He could feel Barbara's eyes on him, but he went on with his prepared questions. "Chief," he said, "what about you? After we nail our spy, what happens ... to Her Majesty, I mean? You don't intend to stop giving her the homage due her, do you?"
Burris stared, openmouthed. After a second he managed to say: "Why, no, of course not, Sir Kenneth. That is"—and he glanced over at the psychiatrists—"if the doctors think—"
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—"