On the other side of the street, a slender young man with a wad of paper towel in his hand was bending over to clean up after his Airedale. He took no notice of us and we headed off in the opposite direction.

At the corner of Ninth Avenue Carolyn said, "Somebody else must have known about their trip. That they were taking the dog and all. Unless someone was just going over the roofs and got lucky."

"Not very likely."

"No. Wanda must have told someone else. Nobody heard it from me, Bernie."

"People talk," I said, "and a good burglar learns how to listen. If we'd gotten there first we'd have scored a lot bigger, but this way we can travel light. And we're free and clear, look at it that way. Those clowns went through that poor house like Cromwell's men at Drogheda, and it shouldn't take the cops too long to catch up with them. And we didn't leave a trace, so they'll hang the whole thing on them."

"I thought of that. What did you think of the Chagall?"

"I hardly looked at it."

"I was wondering how it would look in my apartment."

"Where?"

"I was thinking maybe over the wicker chair."

"Where you've got the Air India poster now?"

"Yeah. I was thinking maybe it's time I outgrew my travel poster phase. I might want to have the litho rematted, but that's no big deal."

"We'll see how it looks."

"Yeah." Three cabs sailed by, all with their off-duty signs lit. "I just took it because I wanted to take something, you know? I didn't want to leave empty-handed."

"I know."

"I had figured you'd be cracking the safe while I went through the drawers, but some bastards already went through the drawers and there was nothing for me to do. I felt sort of out of it."