Comstock chanted to himself over and over again as they walked down the long impressive marble corridor, right, left, right. What was behind the doors they passed? Would he ever know? Each one seemed more menacing than the one before it. And somehow, high above him, Comstock could feel the brooding majesty of The Grandfather. Surely here in the buildings that were sacred to Him, The Grandfather must know what they were doing. His knees shook and his stomach turned over as he thought of the effrontery of what they were doing.
If one of the doors that lined the corridor had so much as squeaked, Comstock thought, he would die. He knew it. He knew his weak heart would not be able to stand the strain and that was all there was to it.
The silence that surrounded them was harrowing.
Grundy, his arm around Helen protectively, kept his eyes busy searching, hoping against hope that no one would see them, question them ... or suspect them.
Comstock's palm and fingers were sweaty with the agony of the grip he had on the butt of the stun-gun.
Ahead of them was the end of the corridor and no one had seen them.
Taking an even deeper breath, Comstock strode to the left. The other two followed in his footsteps. This corridor was shorter, he was grateful to see, and the one that went off to the right at the end of it seemed lighter. At least it did not seem quite as dark and gloomy as the way they had come.
And then they had come to the end of the last hallway and ahead was the door that Bowdler said led to escape. But the highest hurdle, Comstock thought, was still ahead. They had to steal an auto from a garage. He had learned that the astrobatless-carriage that had conveyed them there was called an auto, but what in the world was a garage?
He hoped it wasn't some new horror.