On the north side was the high, crumbling stone wall of the convent, topped by the skeletons of trees. None of the convent buildings were visible from the street.

Aside from themselves, there was not a person in sight. Nothing moved but grit in the ice-cold wind.

“Five hundred all you got?” the white cop asked Mister Baron.

Mister Baron licked his lips, and his voice began to lilt. “You and me could talk business,” he whispered.

“Come here,” the white cop said.

Mister Baron walked up close to the white cop as though he were going to nestle in his arms.

The white cop turned him around and closed his windpipe with a half nelson while twisting his right arm behind his back. Mister Baron beat at him futilely with his left hand.

A colored cop closed in and drew a plaited leather sap. The other cop lifted Mister Baron’s Homburg, and the first cop sapped him back of the ear. Mister Baron gave a low soft sigh and went liquid. The white cop lowered him to the street, and the colored cop put the Homburg over Mister Baron’s face.

The white cop went through Mister Baron’s pockets with rapid efficiency. He found two scented white silk handkerchiefs, a case of miscellaneous keys, a diamond engagement ring stuck tightly about a plastic tube of lipstick, an ivory comb containing strands of Mister Baron’s long wavy hair, a black rubber object shaped like a banana attached to an elastic band, and a package of one-hundred-dollar bills wrapped in greasy brown paper.

He grunted. The colored cops watched him with silent concentration. He put the package of bills into his side coat pocket and stuffed the remaining items back into Mister Baron’s side overcoat pocket.

“Leave him here?” a colored cop asked.

“Naw, let’s put him in the car,” the white cop said.

“We’d better get going,” the other cop urged. “We’re wasting too much time.”

“No need to hurry now,” the white cop said. “We got it made.”