"Who knows?" Toffee shrugged. "Maybe he has some horrible disease. I figure it's his business."
"Good God!" the congressman breathed. "We've got to get him off our hands. We'll have to be careful, though. The hospital has the entire police force out looking for him. It's on the radio. If we were caught with him in that condition the party wouldn't like it."
"Nobody would like it," the thug said. "Shall we dump him in the river?"
The congressman shook his head. "Too many patrolmen around. There must be...." His voice trailed off into thoughtful silence. Finally he nodded with decision. "We won't try to hide him. We'll deliver him to the police just as he is—in an automobile crash. The girl too."
"Huh?" the thug said. "How do you mean?"
"It's simple enough. Pillsworth looks like a crash victim, so why don't we just let him be one? Go get a sack or something to carry him out in." He turned and moved toward the door. "I'll have Hank fix up one of the cars."
"Good night, boss," the thug said plaintively, following after him, "you mean I've got to pick him up—with my hands!"
The moment they were gone, locking the door after them, Toffee jumped down from her perch and Marc appeared from the shadows.
"Do you know who that was?" Marc asked excitedly.