Bodger cocked an eyebrow at her, then grinned. "You think the _Snapper_ did this to me?" he said, and when she quite naturally nodded, he shook his head, almost amused. "You're wrong, Grace, I'll admit I didn't know until Stanton pressed the stud that I was immune to the beam, but I knew it the instant the beam struck me. Nothing happened, Grace. Nothing at all. It tingled against my ribs, almost tickled, but that was its total reaction. As soon as I realized my immunity, of course, I stepped forward and let Stanton have it--You say he really got a good crack?" When Grace assured him the President had fallen like a stone, Bodger's face creased in a contented smile. "I always thought I could beat the tar out of him; now I know it.... But as I was saying, Grace--That isn't what felled me. It was my temper. Whenever I get really worked up--which has been seldom, over the years, since I had only a short supply of the gel--that was cadmium-gel in that jar--to bring me out of it--I bring one of these fits on myself." * * * * * When Grace still looked uneasily convinced, Bodger laid his hand atop hers on the coverlet, and said, "There's too much detail to it to explain fully; Lloyd, if he's quizzed the Brain as I told him, will fill you in. The fact of the matter is--and you can believe this or not, Grace--my insides are rotten with radiation. The iron in my blood, the insulin, the lymph--everything is highly Roentgenic. And it's perfectly safe unless I get riled, and my adrenals start my system spoiling for a fight. The increased flow of everything, the resultant tension--Well, it lets the deadly parts of my system cover more ground, irradiate more cells at a higher rate than the cells can throw the radiation off, and even by the time I get the gel down--it's pretty nauseating stuff to take--another few inches of my innards are poisoned. If enough of me gets it--I have had it." "How can you be so calm?" Bodger smiled at her, quite fondly, and patted her hand. "Because I'm old, Grace. Older than you might suspect. I've lived in the Hive for more years than I care to think about. The Hive is good, but as of not so many years back, it has served its purpose. Listen--If anything goes wrong, and I _do_ poison myself with my own rage, there's something you should know." "Please, Mr. Bodger, I'm sure you'll be fine if you just--"