He barked, "Follow me." Then, sure in the arrogance of power, he turned his back on Comstock and the others and began to walk back towards the door. It was obvious that the thought that they might not follow him had not even crossed his mind. Grundy made a signalling motion to Comstock, a chopping gesture with the side of his hand that puzzled Comstock mightily. Seeing that Comstock was baffled, Grundy brought the edge of his hand down in the same chopping motion on Helen's neck. Then he pointed at the black garbed man who was leading the way into ... death.... Once the idea penetrated Comstock's considerably bemuddled mind he sprang into action as though he had been trained in violence all his life. Leaping closer to the emissary he whacked the edge of his hand down on the nape of the man's neck. As he did so, Grundy and Bowdler ran to join him. They caught the man before he hit the ground. Comstock stood stock still, and looked at his hand in some wonder. The idea! His hand had struck down a member of the inner circle of the Fathers' Right Arms! Incredible! As though the whole thing had long ago been rehearsed in its entirety, Helen pushed the door closed, hiding completely what had just happened. All the while that Comstock stood and gloried in his own daring, the others were busy ripping the uniform from the unconscious man's body. Bowdler was grunting from the effort, his big beefy face almost vermillion with strain. He had yanked off the guard's trousers and was now holding them up in front of Grundy, as if estimating how they would fit. "Nope." He grunted, and then threw the pants to Comstock. "They'd never fit Grundy. You'll have to wear the uniform." Still bemused, for otherwise the very thought of doing what he was, would have made him faint, Comstock stripped off his own trousers, in front of Helen! and put on the guard's. While he was busy dressing, Bowdler said, "The only thing I can see to do, is for you to try to escape from here, with Comstock masquerading as an R.A. Meanwhile, I'll join the Fathers and see if I can distract them long enough to let you three get away." "But where will we go?" Helen asked, "They've found out about me, and my house." "I know, I know," Bowdler grunted impatiently. "Let me think." By that time Grundy had helped Comstock into the form fitting black jacket. The final touch was the menacing slouch hat that went with the uniform. Comstock drew himself up proudly. This was living! Of course, he thought, and the idea made him deflate his chest rapidly; if they were caught now, their deaths would be even more unpleasant.... But he patted the evil little stun-gun at his hip, and tried to feel very, very brave. The man on the floor, looking highly undignified in his long underwear, and not at all menacing, stirred uneasily, and moaned. Bowdler bent down and rapped him on the point of his chin, and the man relaxed into deep unconsciousness again.