"Malone, look—" Boyd began.
"Let me get it all at once," Malone told him. "I'm strong. I can take it." He twisted his hat again and turned back to the little old lady.
"You're immortal, and you're not really Miss Thompson, but Queen Elizabeth I?" he said slowly.
"That's right," she said. "How clever of you. Of course, after little Jimmy—cousin Mary's boy, I mean—said I was dead and claimed the Throne, I decided to change my name and all. And that's what I did. But I am Elizabeth Regina." She smiled, and her eyes twinkled merrily. Malone stared at her for a long minute.
Burris, he thought, is going to love this.
"Oh, I'm so glad," the little old lady said. "Do you really think he will? Because I'm sure I'll like your Mr. Burris, too. All of you FBI men are so charming. Just like poor, poor Essex."
Well, Malone told himself, that was that. He'd found himself a telepath.
And she wasn't an imbecile.
Oh, no. That would have been simple.
Instead, she was battier than a cathedral spire.