Grundy and Helen were at Bowdler's side, Grundy pump-handling his friend's hand, Helen hugging him with relief. But Comstock stood off to one side and considered this miraculous return from death. Why, he wondered almost coldly, had the R.A. lied? What function would it serve? Had it served?
Bowdler must have felt Comstock's thoughts for he turned and said, "There was a reason, Comstock. Truly there was, and a good one."
The seriousness in Bowdler's tone made Helen and Grundy draw back a little. Then they retreated in sudden panic at his next words, for Bowdler said, "You see, my friends, I ordered the R.A. to lie to you."
Perhaps because Grundy had been a friend of Bowdler's longer or perhaps because Comstock had been pushed as far as a man can be pushed, for whatever reason, or combination of reasons, Comstock suddenly found himself for the first time in all his wild adventure taking the initiative. He snapped, "No one can give an R.A. an order but a Father!"
Bowdler smiled, "That's right, Comstock. Good work, boy. You have come a long way."
It was Grundy who gasped, "Then you are a Father?"
Nodding, Bowdler said, "Yes."
Before they could question Bowdler any further, he suddenly put his finger to his lips in the immemorial gesture for silence. Then he pointed at the closed door behind which the Board of Fathers were sitting in solemn conclave. Bowdler whispered, "We've only got a split second before you are called up before them."
"What can we say, what can we do?" Grundy pleaded.
"I thought," Bowdler said, his brow furrowed with worry, "that I'd be in a position to fight for you all by this time. But my plan didn't work out. They're furious at your effrontery. I'm afraid if you go before them now they'll sentence you to death."