What will he do?

Though that thought may trouble many, including District Attorney Lynne Abraham, the answer is not 100 percent clear.

Philadelphia's most famous bail-jumper indeed might flee again -- for a number of reasons, it wouldn't be that difficult -- but there are also reasons for him to conclude that it would be better to face the music back in the States.

To recap the story: Einhorn's girlfriend, Helen (Holly) Maddux, disappeared in 1977 after threatening to leave him. In 1979, her mummified remains were found in a trunk in his Powelton Village apartment. She had been bludgeoned to death. Philadelphia's charismatic hippie guru was arrested and was about to go to trial in 1981 when several well-heeled friends put up his $40,000 bail.

Einhorn skipped, and it took 16 years before police caught up with him in 1997 in a little village north of here called Champagne-Mouton.

In the meantime, not certain Einhorn would ever be found, authorities in Philadelphia prosecuted him in absentia in 1993. He was convicted.

After Einhorn was found, things got a tad complicated.

Although France and the United States have had an extradition treaty since 1909, the French insist that they will not return any fugitive to a country whose laws run strongly counter to theirs. France does not have a death penalty, and although it places missing French defendants on trial in their absence, just as Philadelphia did, it guarantees them a new trial when they show up again.

It took 19 more months and one failed extradition attempt before U.S. and Philadelphia officials finally convinced the French that Einhorn would not be put to death in Pennsylvania and that, as a result of a new law passed by the Pennsylvania legislature, Einhorn could have a new trial if he wanted one.

Voila! With those promises, the court here approved Einhorn's extradition on Thursday. But there are still many months of legal steps and possible setbacks ahead before he is sent home.

Ira Samuel Einhorn now has a lot of time on his hands in his little converted millhouse in Champagne-Mouton, time to ponder what to do next.

Run? It would be so easy. First: Shave off that goatee. It's the most distinctive thing about his face, and few have seen the chin it hides. Then dye the white hair. And then step completely out of character by taking a bath and putting on a suit.

Because an illegal-entry case is still pending against him in France, Einhorn must report to the gendarme office in Champagne-Mouton twice a week. But that still leaves five days when he doesn't have to be seen at all.

Einhorn's house is on a rural road outside town, and he spends most of his time hidden away in it. There aren't enough police in town to keep watch on him all the time, nor any special reason to. Who would notice if he drove away in the middle of the night? Who would notice a freshly shaven, suited businessman at the relaxed Bordeaux airport? From there he could go anywhere. Paris, Bonn, Stockholm, an endless list.

Don't forget that Einhorn has friends and also a rich Swedish wife, Annika Flodin. Many people were helpful -- conniving to procure false IDs for him, for instance -- when he spent 16 years on the lam in Europe.
But consider why it might be tempting for Einhorn to stay put, even if it means returning to his hometown in shackles.
Life on the run a second time would mean keeping the lowest of low profiles, virtually no chance to win friends and influence people (unless, perhaps, he goes to an anti-American bastion like Iraq). Anyone who recalls the bombastic, cocksure Einhorn of the '70s knows that low-profile is not Ira.

He has gone from a big fish in a big pond to a little fish in a little pond called Champagne-Mouton (which means sheep country). It is a rather dreary, rural locale, well off the tourist track, with old gray buildings, no cinema, one hotel, a handful of stores and the smallest of twice-weekly produce markets.

The restrictions of the illegal entry case require that he stay in the general area, save for times when he makes court appearances in Bordeaux, about an hour and a half away.

Einhorn has always seemed to enjoy those court appearances. Outside the courtroom, he is surrounded by a crowd of reporters and cameras. Microphones and tape recorders are thrust toward his face. Although he never responds to reporters' shouted questions, he seems to glow in the limelight of attention and frequently smiles.

Imagine the reaction if Einhorn were returned to Philadelphia. He would be the biggest story in a very big town; journalists would fight each other to interview him and photograph him; virtually his every word would be printed and broadcast.

Surprisingly, Einhorn's two French lawyers, who have waged a long and passionate battle to keep him in France, said after the extradition decision was announced that they thought it was a good thing.

Lawyer Dominique Delthil went so far as to say that Einhorn was actually "happy. . . . He has the guarantee he is not going to be thrown in prison in Pennsylvania [ automatically ] for the rest of his life, that he would have a fair trial, and he would not be put to death."

Could it be, after all these years, that Einhorn is ready to come home?