Time was of the essence of his safety, risks had to be taken.

He plunged out of his hole--around the first corner--around the next--and thus wove in and out, working westward, till at last, on turning a corner into a lighted street, he saw possible relief in two stray taxicabs before a little East Side restaurant, one of which was just leaving.
"Taxi!" he called breathlessly.
The chauffeur of the moving car swung back beside the curb and opened the door.

But even as he started to enter he saw Little Mick and Lefty Ed turn into the street behind him.

However, the brightness of this street ill-accorded with the anonymity with which their art is most safely and profitably practiced, so Larry got in without a bullet flicking 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.