"All the more reason for my hospitalization, then," Lloyd said, with all the relentless cruelty he could muster in the face of his father's ghastly fright.
"No!" Bodger yelled. "You can't go! You don't understand, Lloyd! I can't explain here."
"There's no need to," Lloyd said, suddenly softening and taking his father by the hands to halt their frenetic quavering. "Your attitude has told me all I want to know. Andra was speaking the truth. There are no hospitals, no treatment, no Readjustment. Only death."
"Lloyd—!" Bodger said. "If you only knew why—"
"We'd all like to know why," said Andra, solicitously. "Mr. Bodger, it's no use struggling any more. You have to tell the truth, now, or have your son—and Grace and myself—be destroyed."
"All right," Bodger said. "I will. I'll tell you the whys and wherefores of the Hive. Then maybe you'll—"
"I'm afraid such an extemporaneous educational program is quite impossible," came a voice from the doorway.
Fredric Stanton, just removing his Voteplate from the slot in Grace's door, had his other hand extended toward them. And clutched firmly in his steady grasp was the stubby metal muzzle of a Snapper.
The two men and women stepped backward, slowly, as he advanced into the parlor and shut the door behind him. "I only heard the last few phrases of your conversation, unfortunately," he said. "I think, for the interests of the Hive, that I should hear it all. We'll have to go up to my office, all of us, to get at the truth. I'll have a Goon Squad pick us up, here." He reached for the phone, dialed swiftly, and soon had Madge on the line. He kept the Snapper trained on the group while he spoke, and never took his eyes off them.