Comstock had never heard The Grandfather speak, and yet, now hunching himself into a pre-natal ball, his hands pressed tight against his ears, he knew that no other voice could have held that command, that awe-inspiring tone, that this voice held which now threatened to deafen him permanently. The words that smote at Comstock were, "I am displeased." Grundy ran to Comstock, gripped him by the shoulders, pulled Comstock's hands away from his ears and roared, "Follow me! They've got a speaker hidden someplace near here. I never knew they'd found Helen." The girl's face was washed clean of every emotion but that of anger. She stood at Grundy's side, her hands on her hips and the words she spat out, hurt Comstock's ears even more than the larger than life roar of The Grandfather. She said, "What a cheap trick!" "Darling, I can't leave you here now. You must come with us!" Grundy's face was tortured. "I know," she assented and waited for his orders. Somehow Comstock forced himself to his feet. He would not, could not, allow himself to be shamed by this girl child. It was unmanly. The voice of The Grandfather said, "My grandchildren are being naughty. I do not like this conduct. I am afraid, very afraid that you three need punishment." The tones mumbled a long time after the words were no longer separable. It was like the aftermath of thunder. Comstock moaned in horrified torment. All his fears were back. The Grandfather was omnipotent just as he had always been taught. And yet, and yet ... that little canker of doubt in the back of his head kept muttering, if that were so, how could the girl have called it all a cheap trick? Were there even more things, that he, Comstock, did not understand? As far as his fevered eye could see there was no sign of humanity. Comstock knew that behind the drawn blinds of the houses on the street people like him were huddled in fear, hoping desperately that the voice did not refer to them. Grundy said, "If they've got a speaker planted near here, that means we're under surveillance." "Of course," Helen agreed, "that's obvious. What do we do about it?" "I wish I'd never gotten you involved in this, dear," Grundy said. "I'm glad. For if you hadn't, we'd never have had what little we have had out of life. I think it's been worth it, and more." The smile on Grundy's face was so radiant, the renewed courage he clearly had received from what she said, made Comstock think that perhaps Bowdler had been right, perhaps there were indeed rewards for being a whole man. Grundy blew a kiss to Helen, and then a smile that oddly enough reminded Comstock of Bowdler crossed his face. He walked from the entrance of the house out into the center of the street. Then, feet separated, again so like Bowdler, his hands on his hips, he threw his head back and looking at the sky he roared out a challenge. "Come and get us! Don't treat us like sorry grandchildren, come and get us. I dare you!"