"It doesn't worry me," Mudgett rumbled. "Who'll know? He won't die in our labs. He'll leave here hale and hearty. He won't die until he makes a break for the surface. After that we can compose a fine obituary for the press. Heroic government official, on the highest policy level--couldn't wait to lead his followers to the surface--died of being too much in a hurry--Re-Ed Project sorrowfully reminds everyone that no technique is fool-proof--" Mudgett paused long enough to light a cigarette, which was a most singular action for a man who never smoked. "As a matter of fact, Carson," he said, "it's a natural." Carson considered it. It seemed to hold up. And 'Hamelin' would have a death certificate as complex as he deserved--not officially, of course, but in the minds of everyone who knew the facts. His death, when it came, would be due directly to the thrombocytopenia which had caused the Re-Ed machine to reject him--and thrombocytopenia is a disease of infants. _Unless ye become as little children...._ That was a fitting reason for rejection from the new kingdom of Earth: anemia of the newborn. His pent breath went out of him in a long sigh. He hadn't been aware that he'd been holding it. "It's true," he said softly. "That's the time to pay the piper." "When?" Mudgett said. "When?" Carson said, surprised. "Why, _before_ he takes the children away."