ing at him.

"Forty-Second Street and Broadway," he called to the chauffeur as he
closed the door.

The car started off. Looking back through the little window he saw Lefty
Ed enter the other taxicab, and saw Little Mick standing on the curb.
He understood. Little Mick was to send out the alarm, while Lefty was to
follow the trail.

Let Lefty follow. At least Larry now had a few minutes to consider some
plan which should look beyond the safety of the immediate moment. He
was well-dressed, albeit somewhat wet and soiled; he had money in his
pockets. What should he do?

Yes, what should he do? The more he considered it the more ineluctable
did his situation become. By now Gavegan had sent out his alarm; within
a few moments every policeman on duty would have instructions to watch
for him. He might escape for the time, at least, these allies of his
one-time pals by going to a hotel and taking a room there; but to walk
into a hotel would be to walk into arrest. On the other hand, he might
evade the police if he sought refuge in one of his old haunts, or
perhaps with old Bronson; but then his angered pals knew of these
haunts, and to enter one of them would be to offer himself freely to
their vengeance.

There were other cities--but then how was he to get to them? He saw
Manhattan for what it was to a man who was a fugitive from justice and
injustice: an island, a trap, with only a few outlets and inlets for
its millions: two railway stations--a few ferries--a few bridges--a few
tunnels: and at every one of them policemen watching for him. He could
not leave New York. And yet how in God's name was he to stay here?

He thought of Maggie. So she wanted the life of dazzling, excitement, of
brilliant adventure, did she? He wondered how she would like a little of
the real thing--such as this?

As he neared Forty-Second Street he still was without definite plan
which would guarantee him safety, and there was Lefty hanging on
doggedly. An idea came which would at least extend his respite and give
him more time for thought. He opened the door of his cab and thrust a
ten-dollar note into the instinctively ready hand of his driver.

"Keep the change--and give me a swing once around Central Park, slowing
down on those hilly turns on the west side."

"I gotcha."

The car entered the park at the Plaza and sped up the shining, almost
empty drive. Larry kept watch, now on the trailing Lefty, now on the
best chance for executio