(Medium Strength). Straight from the depths of a non-existent heart, ‘My friends, my friends!’ said the Voice so pathetically, with a note of such infinitely tender reproach that, behind their gas-masks, even the policemen’s eyes were momentarily dimmed with tears, ‘what is the meaning of this? Why aren’t you all being happy and good together. Happy and good,’ the Voice repeated. ‘At peace, at peace.’ It trembled, sank into a whisper and momentarily expired. ‘Oh, I do want you to be happy,’ it began, with a yearning earnestness. ‘I do so want you to be good! Please, please be good and …’

Two minutes later the Voice and the soma vapour had produced their effect. In tears, the Deltas were kissing and hugging one another—half a dozen twins at a time in a comprehensive embrace. Even Helmholtz and the Savage were almost crying. A fresh supply of pill-boxes was brought in from the Bursary; a new distribution was hastily made and, to the sound of the Voice’s richly affectionate, baritone valedictions, the twins dispersed, blubbering as though their hearts would break. ‘Good-bye, my dearest, dearest friends, Ford keep you! Good-bye, my dearest, dearest friends. Ford keep you. Good-bye, my dearest, dearest …’

When the last of the Deltas had gone the policeman switched off the current. The angelic Voice fell silent.

‘Will you come quietly?’ asked the Sergeant, ‘or must we anæsthetize?’ He pointed his water pistol menacingly.

‘Oh, we’ll come quietly,’ the Savage answered, dabbing alternately a cut lip, a scratched neck, and a bitten left hand.

Still keeping his handkerchief to his bleeding nose, Helmholtz nodded in confirmation.

Awake and having recovered the use of his legs, Bernard had chosen this moment to move as inconspicuously as he could towards the door.

‘Hi, you there,’ called the Sergeant, and a swine-masked policeman hurried across the room and laid a hand on the young man’s shoulder.

Bernard turned with an expression of indignant innocence. Escaping? He hadn’t dreamed of such a thing. ‘Though what on earth you want me for,’ he said to the Sergeant, ‘I really can’t imagine.’

‘You’re a friend of the prisoners, aren’t you?’

‘Well …’ said Bernard, and hesitated. No, he really couldn’t deny it. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’ he asked.

‘Come on, then,’ said the Sergeant, and led the way towards the door and the waiting police car.