Big Henry was driving. His bodyguard, Cousin Cuts, was sitting beside him on the front seat. Two other rugged-looking men occupied the back seat. Big Henry took the cigar from his thick-lipped mouth with his right hand, tapped ash in the tray sticking out of the instrument panel, and kept on talking to Cuts as though he hadn't heard the siren. The flash of a diamond in his cigar hand lit up the rear window. "Get him over," Grave Digger said in a flat voice. Coffin Ed leaned out of the right side window and shot the rear-view mirror off the door hinge of the big Cadillac. The cigar hand of Big Henry became rigid and the back of his fat neck began to swell as he looked at his shattered mirror. Cuts rose up in his seat, twisting about threateningly, and reached for his pistol. But when he saw Coffin Ed's sinister face staring at him from behind the long nickelplated barrel of the. 38 he ducked like an artful dodger from a hard thrown ball. Coffin Ed planted a hole in the Cadillac's front fender. Grave Digger chuckled. "That'll hurt Big Henry more than a hole in Cousin Cut's head." Big Henry turned about with a look of pop-eyed indignation on his puffed black face, but it sank in like a burst balloon when he recognized the detectives. He wheeled the car frantically toward the curb and crumpled his right front fender into the side of the bus. Grave Digger had space enough to squeeze through. As they passed, Coffin Ed lowered his aim and shot Big Henry's gold lettered initials from the Cadillac's door. "And stay over!" he yelled in a grating voice. They left Big Henry giving them a how-could-you-do-this-to-me-look with tears in his eyes. When they came abreast the Dew Drop Inn they saw the deserted ambulance and the crowd running on ahead. Without slowing down, they wormed between the cars parked haphazardly in the street and pushed through the dense jam of people, the sirens shrieking. They dragged to a stop when their headlights focused on the macabre scene.