Damn! This was ridiculous—pure imagination—since when was a culture society a thing to get goose-pimples over? That was all it was of course. Just the knowledge of the crate downstairs.... God the house was quiet.
She reached for the phone.
And again, the door-signal chimed.
She half-walked, half-ran to answer it; tripped, caught herself. It chimed again.
Then somehow she had the door open, and there were four men in white uniforms standing before it.
"Madame Blair, if you will please come with us."
"No, I'm sorry,—I can't. Why, what are you here for?"
"You received a telecall several minutes ago, did you not, Madame?" He phrased it as a question, but she knew that it was a statement.
"Why, yes I did. A social call—"
"We know that it was not, Madame Blair. If you will accompany us please." They stood there, unmoving.