Pembroke: [voiceover] "There is a sickness inside us rising, like the bile that leaves that bitter taste at the back of our throats. It's there in every one of you seated around the table. Only when we know what ails us can we hope to find cure."
Frank Hill: "What do you make of that?"
Mr. Lockhart: "Clearly he's lost his mind."
Mr. Wilson: "Our thoughts exactly."