How, Comstock wondered, could anyone be so brave? No fear showed on Bowdler's granite-like face. None at all. His hand on the door knob, he paused and called back over his shoulder, "Grundy, come here, stand at this side of the door, you, Comstock, stand on the other side. I'll stall him, and if my plan works, you two beat it! Fast! Grundy, you know where to take Comstock!"
"Sure, to Helen's," Grundy said and took up a position at the side of the door. Comstock, knees wobbling, hands sweating, stomach writhing, took up the position indicated for him.
Then Bowdler opened the door. He bowed derisively and said, his tones steady, the words ironical. "Won't you come in and make yourself comfortable?"
It was the same R.A. whose small features and lean hand had menaced them in the saloon.
His halo was bright with anger. His hand had the stun-gun at the ready. The words that came from his mouth were bright with menace. He said, "I want you three to know that my gun is set to kill!"
Now sweaty-footed fear was walking down Comstock's back. Never had he heard of an R.A. using the death control on his gun. Ordinarily just the threat of nervous stunning was enough to make the most irate submissive.
Long legs spread wide apart, hands on his hips, Bowdler said, "By what right do you enter the sanctum of a Gantry?"
"By the right invested in me by the Fathers and by my warrant from The Grandfather!" The R.A.'s reedy voice was cold.
Throwing his big head back, Bowdler laughed in the man's face. He said, "Well, now, that sounds real important. But does it mean anything?"
Spread in a straight line, as the three men were, the R.A. could only menace one of them at a time. His gun went back and forth in a slow arc.