"Ideal, ideal, just the way Clarens would be thinking."
"Thank God we found Judkins," Mosby said, "but say, that reminds me. Why didn't he take the first plane or train out of town? He had plenty of time before we knew we wanted him."
Thornberry pulled himself back, re-condensed his lean frame in the left corner of the back seat. "He was waiting for Senator Giles to pay him off and tell him where to hide out."
Chief Scott idled his car to a halt beside another dark-blue sedan almost invisible in the shadowed street.
A figure loomed large in the shadows, came forward and identified itself.
"Patrolman Whelton, sir, and Sergeant Kerr is in the back."
Somehow Scott managed to return the salute while at the same time disentangling himself from his seat-belt and from behind the driver's wheel.
"What did you spot?"
"According to orders, we were riding the alleys and we saw that the window had been broken since our last inspection."
They were in a tight group around the young patrolman because Whelton had spoken in a soft, church-going whisper. Now Mosby walked away from the group, thoughtfully fingering the ivory-handled butts of his revolvers, but returning to the group when Scott began speaking.