“Eddie has the jalopp,” Skip said. “If he brings it back here, push it in the garage, will you? If he doesn’t, it’s okay.” Privately Skip thought: He took the bitch off my hands, he’s welcome to the heap. He had the two bags stuffed with his clothes and belongings now, the zipper bag and the old battered case. Skip went over to the door. “Well, so long, Unc. I’ll be seeing you. Remember, if the bulls give any sign of thinking you were in on this thing tonight, you know from nothing.”

“I was at the A.A. meeting,” Uncle Willy said, the new light beginning to shine again in his weary eyes.

In Union Station, Skip went into the men’s room, entered a cubicle and shut the door, and then, standing spraddle-legged above the bags, he unbuttoned his shirt and took out the two packs of bills and counted them. One pack had twenty hundred-dollar bills and the other had twenty-five. He was the possessor of forty-five hundred dollars in crisp legitimate currency. He extracted two of the bills, put the rest back inside his shirt, unlatched the door, picked up the bags, and returned to the main lobby.

His real desire was to get to Las Vegas and try to run the money into an important sum with luck; but Las Vegas was Stolz’s territory and it was just possible the money might be recognized over there in some manner. Not probable, Skip thought, but possible to the degree that he felt nervous over it. The next best, though much farther away, was Reno.

He bought a ticket to Portland, Oregon. This would take him through Sacramento, where he would get off the train and buy another ticket east.

In case anyone wished to trace him there would be a little difficulty. He wasn’t thinking now of the police, but of Stolz. He had no desire ever to meet again the big man with the granite face and the granite fists. People like that were, in Skip’s opinion, just plain undesirable citizens.

Eddie parked the car in the alley, some two or three doors from home. Karen whispered, “Will you be long, Eddie? Will it take much time?”

“I’ve got to pack a few things, not much.”

Her face floated in the dark, pale as a flower, and Eddie could make out the endearing curve of lip and cheek, the fringe of lashes, the soft gleam of her eyes. Already Karen’s face had taken on the familiar aspect of the well-beloved. It seemed to Eddie that he had known her forever. He leaned into the car to kiss her once again. She put up her hands to frame his face, to pull his mouth to hers. When the kiss ended she whispered, “You’re just wonderful, Eddie. You really are!”