Grundy and Bowdler looked at him and enjoyed his manifest surprise.
Jimmy asked, "What, where, how, I mean...."
"We're not exactly fools, you know, Comstock old boy," Grundy said. "We knew that the R.A.'s had us under observation. We knew, too, that it was only a question of time before they came after us."
"But the saloon wall, how did we go through that?"
"Trap door, old sock, just a trap door." Bowdler grinned.
"And the tunnel we went through?" Comstock asked and then, looking around at the sybaritic furnishings of the little room, he asked, "This room, what is it?" Never in his life had he seen a room with such over-stuffed chairs, such soft warm colors, such a concern for creature comforts.
"Evidently," Bowdler said with an evil smirk, "Elmer Gantry 104 does not really believe in the Spartan virtues that he preaches so loudly."
"You mean this belongs to a Gantry?" Earlier, the very idea of being in a room that belonged to a Gantry would have made Comstock swoon, but his experiences were evidently toughening him, for aside from a certain feeling of breathlessness, and the knowledge that all the blood had left his face, and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, the blasphemous information did not affect Comstock at all.
Bowdler was standing with his back to Comstock, his hands linked behind his back, as he teetered back and forth from heels to toes and looked at some three dimensional pictures that hung on Gantry's walls.