What she did, in the end, was to board an up-town car and throw
herself on the mercy of the conductor.
"I've got to get up-town," she panted. "I'll not go in. See?
I'll stand here and you take me as far as you can. Look at me!
I don't look as though I'm just bumming a ride, do I?"
The conductor hesitated. He had very little faith in human nature,
but Anna's eyes were both truthful and desperate. He gave the
signal to go on.
"What's up?" he said. "Police after you?"
"Yes," Anna replied briefly.
There is, in certain ranks, a tacit conspiracy against the police.
The conductor hated them. They rode free on his car, and sometimes
kept an eye on him in the rush hours. They had a way, too, of
letting him settle his own disputes with inebriated gentlemen who
refused to pay their fares.
"Looks as though they'd come pretty close to grabbing you," he
opened, by way of conversation. "But ten of 'em aren't a match for
one smart girl. They can't run. All got flat feet.
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