Remo looked back over the scene. A paint store owner was robbed and brutally attacked. A passerby who tried to stop the robbery had his head locked in the paint mixer. Okay. Then who killed the two robbers? Who stole their wallets? To hell with it. Let the Daily News figure it out. They were good at that sort of thing.

Remo picked up the gray box, stuffed the four dead men's wallets into his raincoat pocket and locked the door behind him.

He stopped at a stationery store, brought a strip of brown wrapping paper, and made a package of the four wallets. He addressed it to Dr. Harold W. Smith, Folcroft Sanatorium, Rye, New York, and mailed it at a small branch post office.

Smith read the papers. He would know what corpses had surrendered the wallets. Remo would find out later who they were.

On the ferry back to New York City, two nine-year-old twin boys going bang-bang with their fingers were given a snub-nosed .38 and a .32 calibre Smith and Wesson-both cartridge free-to play with.

When their shocked mother inquired where the two boys had gotten the guns, they couldn't really describe the man.

"He was nice and-I don't know-he was just a grownup."

"Yeah. He was a real grownup, Mommy."

CHAPTER SIX

When Remo saw the first picture, he began to chuckle. Then laugh. Then guffaw, then shake so hard he almost dropped the whole package into the wet motel sink where he had unravelled the strings according to instructions taught him years before.

Under a half-page biography of Dr. Abram Schulter, M.D., Ph.D., fellow of the American College of Surgeons, Diplomat of the American Neurological Society, Nobel Laureate, pioneer in brain surgery, was a photograph of Doctor Schulter in action.