Coffin Ed turned about on his seat and said, “Listen, we want you to watch the door across the street. If you see anyone come out that you know—anyone at all—tell us who it is.”

“Yes, sir,” they replied in unison and stared across the street.

A short, fat man came from the apartment. He was wearing a blue chesterfield overcoat, white scarf and a black Homburg. Grave Digger looked from Roman to Sassafras. Neither showed any sign of recognition.

A middle-aged couple came out; a woman with a little girl went in; a tall man in a polo coat rushed out.

Leila Holmes came out. She was wearing dark slacks, black fur-lined boots and a flowing ranch-mink coat. A wheat-colored cashmere scarf was wrapped about her head.

She began walking hurriedly toward the corner of Fifth Avenue.

Coffin Ed pushed the button for drive and eased the Plymouth out into the traffic lane. He drove ahead of the hurrying woman on the other side of the street and slowed down.

A street lamp spilled a circle of white light on the white snow.

When Leila came into the circle of light, Sassafras exclaimed, “There’s Mister Baron!”

Roman stiffened, leaned forward peering; his eyes popped. “Where?”

“Across the street!” Sassafras cried in her high keeping voice. “In that fur coat! That’s him!”

“That’s a woman!” Roman shouted. “Has you gone crazy?”

“’Course he’s a woman.” Sassafras shrieked in an outraged voice. “I’d know that bitch anywhere.”

Coffin. Ed had already pulled ahead and was making a U-turn to head Leila off.

“Goddammit, girl, why didn’t you tell me!” Roman raved in a popeyed fury.

“You think I was going to tell you he was a woman?” Sassafras said triumphantly.

The Plymouth had drawn abreast of Leila. Grave Digger got out, stepped over the snowbank and passed between two parked cars. Leila didn’t see him until he took her by the arm.

Her face jerked up, tight with panic; her big brown eyes were pools of fear. Her smooth brown skin had turned powdery gray.

Then she recognized him. “Get your dirty hands off me, you stinking cop!” she screamed in a sudden rage and tried to jerk her arm free from his grip.

“Let’s get into the car, Mister Baron,” Grave Digger lisped in a cottony voice. “Or I’ll slap you down right here in the street.”

Blood surging to her face had given it the bright painted look of an Indian’s. Her eyes had slitted like a cat’s and glittered with animal fury. But she ceased to fight. She merely said in a strangled voice, “Play tough, buster; I’ll have Casper break you for this.”

“Casper ain’t going to live that long, unless we find him quick,” he lisped.

“Oh God!” she said with a moan and went limp.

He had practically to carry her to the waiting car. Coffin Ed opened the front door, and they installed her between them on the front seat.

“How did you make me?” she asked.