ome a polayceman siven foot long
and set down across the aisle within reachin' distance of his arm, and
he niver made a sign beyond glancin' at him whin he come in! 'Thin he
ain't,' I says to mesilf, sinkin' back in me seat. 'Ivrything they is
he ain't, and anny wan of thim would be makin' me feel better. If he
follows me clear home, I _will_ kidnap him, whether I want him or not,
but if they's wan breath left in me body I'll escape from him afore
that,' I goes on to mesilf, tryin' to think what I ate for supper and
hopin' maybe it was all wan of thim nightmares.

"It was but the beginnin' of me troubles. At the next station I tried
to slip from him by pretindin' to ask the guard something and jump out
just afore the doors was closed, but nothin' would do but he must be
askin' the guard something himsilf. Wan of us asked if it was a
express we was on and the other asked if it wasn't, and thin we set
down ag'in togither. Whin we come to our station, I endivored to lose
him wanct more, whin we was walkin' crosstown I tried it ag'in, and in
Central Park I tried it twict. I might as well tried to dodge a ghost
what was hauntin' me. And him cheerfuller than iver and not seemin' to
notice annything!

"'Look here, sor,' I says, whin he was pretty well into the East Side,
feelin' I could stand no more of it, 'I've been thinkin' it over, and
me conscience is hurtin' me. Ye niver did me no wrong, and here I am
kidnappin' ye. It ain't right, sor, and I'm goin' to give ye your
liberty and let ye go without chargin' ye annything.'

"'Why,' says he, 'I don't want to git away!' he says, his voice
growin' sorrowful.

"'That ain't got annything to do with it, sor, askin' your pardon,' I
says; 'it's me conscience, and they ain't anny use arguin' with a
man's conscience whin its dander is up. I've got to let ye go, sor,'
I says, 'and ye can do it now. I'll turn me back.'

"'No, no,' says he, 'I know what ye're thinkin', but----'

"'Yis, I know ye do, sor,' I says, thim queer mind-readin' ways of his
comin' over me ag'in, 'but for God's sake don't tell me!' I says.
'Don't tell me, sor. I'll believe ye without that, sor, and I know
what it was already mesilf annyways, and I wasn't thinkin' annything,
besides, and not meanin' a word of it,' I goes on, beyond mesilf
entirely, all the queer ways of him risin' up before me, and the
mosquities not bitin' him, me nerves givin' out at last from all
they'd been through.

"Just thin he turn