"He'll have to shift for himself," Marc said. "I've got other things to worry about."
As they moved away, out of the entrance of the building, several of the more curious spectators converged on the phone booth and glanced cautiously inside.
It was empty.
Outside, an officer showed Marc and Toffee to the green convertible which had been delivered there by the government men. Marc helped Toffee in, then crossed around and slid in under the wheel. With a look of determination, he shifted the gears and directed the car into traffic.
The sound of the shifting gears obscured the muffled snuffling sound that emanated briefly from the back seat.
CHAPTER VIII
Marc braked the convertible to a stop at the signal and glanced worriedly in the rear-view mirror.
"They're still there," he said.
Toffee swung about in the seat and stared without subterfuge at the black sedan and it's occupants.