Зима тревоги нашей

           HebackedoutandslidawayuptheHighStreet.

           Thepostofficewasstillduskyandthefloornewlyoiled,andasignup:DANGER.SLICKFLOOR.

           We’dhadNumber7drawersincetheoldpostofficewasbuilt.IdialedG½Randtookoutapileofplansandpromisesaddressedto"Box-Holder."Andthat’salltherewas—wastebasketfodder.IstrolleduptheHigh,intendingtohaveacupofcoffee,butatthelastmomentIdidn’twantit,ordidn’twanttotalk,or—Idon’tknowwhy.Ijustdidn’twanttogototheForemastercoffeeshop.GoodGod,whatamessofdraggle-tailimpulsesamanis—andawomantoo,Iguess.

           IwassweepingthesidewalkwhenMr.BakertickedoutofElmStreetandwentinfortheceremonyofthetimelock.AndIwashalfheartedlyarrangingmuskmelonsinthedoorwaystandswhentheold-fashionedgreenarmoredcarpulledupinfrontofthebank.Twoguardsarmedlikecommandosgotoutofthebackandcarriedgraysacksofmoneyintothebank.Inabouttenminutestheycameoutandgotintotherivetedfortressanditdroveaway.IguesstheyhadtostandbywhileMorphcounteditandMr.Bakercheckedandgaveareceipt.It’sanawfullotoftroubletakingcareofmoney.AsMorphsays,youcouldgetadownrightdistasteforotherpeople’smoney.Andbythesizeandweight,thebankmusthaveanticipatedalargeholidaywithdrawal.IfIwasarun-of-the-millbankrobber,nowwouldbethetimetostickitup.ButIwasn’tarun-of-the-millbankrobber.IowedeverythingIknewtoPalJoey.