"Go on!" commanded Sadie.
"Then Shindler faded away."
"But where?"
"Search me, Sadie! All I know is that Charlie's sore as a pup, and squealin' about Shindler givin' him the go-by!"
"And who's Piorkowski?"
"He's the big spade over here for that Krupp gang o' ammunition makers. And that's about all I know."
"That'll help," said Sadie.
Ten minutes later she was in the Subway again, bound for the upper parts of the city. She sat deep in thought as her train sped northward, remembering from other days the fact that Shindler had once been a "runner" for the Deutsche Waff en Munitions Gesellschaft. This brought her other equally disturbing thoughts, and she did not look up until her train stopped at the Grand Central Station.
Then she suddenly shrank lower in her seat, between the crowding shoulders on either side of her, like a snail into its shell. For walking slowly along the platform with his habitual air of aimless vacuity she caught sight of Shindler himself.
There, not thirty feet away from her, she had
