The Professor protested. “I didn't say that at all. Mr. Self is a man of ideals. I can well see him belonging to such an organization.”
Larry Woolford decided he'd better hang on for at least a few more words. “You don't seem to think, yourself, that a subversive organization is undesirable in this country.”
The Professor's voice was reasonable. “Isn't that according to what it means to subvert?”
“You know what I mean,” Woolford said in irritation. “I don't usually think of revolutionists, even when they call themselves simply members of a movement, as exactly idealists.”
“Then you're wrong,” the Professor said definitely, pouring himself another cup of coffee. “History bears out that almost invariably revolutionists are men of idealism. The fact that they might be either right or wrong in their revolutionary program is beside the point.”
Larry Woolford began to say, “Are you sure that you aren't interested in this move—”
But it was then that the knockout drops hit him.
He came out of the fog feeling nausea and with his head splitting. He groaned and opened one eye experimentally.
Steve Hackett, far away, said, “He's snapping out of it.”