“What'll d' Face do? What can he do but screw his nut an' stan' for it? He ain't got no licence to interfere. It's a case of 'nothin' doin',' as far as d' Face's end goes. Let him charge 'round an' grab off another skirt. There's plenty of 'em; d' Face can find another wife if he goes d' right way down d' line. But he don't make no hit be hollerin', he can take a tumble to that.
“What is it railroads d' Face? He does a stunt garrotin', see! I'll tell youse d' story. Of course, d' Face is a crook.
“Now, understan' me! I ain't no crook. I'm a fakir, an' a grafter; an' I've been fly in me time an' I ain't no dub to-day, but I never was no crook, see! But, of course, born as I was in Kelly's Alley, an' always free of d' Bowery push, I hears a lot about crooks, an' has more'n one of d' swell mob on me visitin' list.
“Naw; d' Face was never in d' foist circles, nothin' fine to him. He never was d' real t'ing as a dip, an 'd' best he could do was to shove an' stall. Now an' then he toins a trick as a porch climber; but even at that I never gets a tip of any big second-story woik d' Face does.
“D' Face's best trick is d' garrote, an' it's on d' gar-rote lay dey downs d' Face when dey puts him away.
“Now-days there's a lot of sandbaggin'. Some mug comes wanderin' along, loaded to d' guards wit* booze, an' some soon duck lends him a t'ump back of d' nut wit' a sandbag, or mebby it's a lead pipe or a bar of rubber. Over goes d' slewed mug, on his map, an' d' rest is easy money, see! That's d' way it's done now.
“But in d' old times, when I'm a kid, it ain't d' sandbag; it's d' garrote. An' d' patient can be cold sober, still d' garrote goes all right. It takes two to woik it; but even at that it beats d' sandbag hands down. It's smoother, cleaner, and more like a woik-man, see! d' garrote is.
“Besides, there's more apt to be stuff on a sober party than on some stiff who's tanked. I know d' poipers is always talkin' about people gettin' a load, wit' money all over 'em; but youse can gamble! such talk is a song an' dance. I'm more'n seven years old, an' me exper'ence is, that it's a four-to-one shot a drunk is every time broke.
“But to go to d' story of how d' Face gets pinched. As I states, it's way back; not quite ten spaces (for d' Face shortens his stay at d' pen wit' good conduct time see!), an 'd' Face an' a pal, Spot Casey, who's croaked now, is out on d' garrote lay.
“D' Face is followin', an' Spot is sluggin'. Here's how dey lays out d' game. It's on Fift' Avenoo, down be Nint'. Spot's playin' round d' corner on Nint'; d' Face is woikin' about a block away on Fift' Avenoo, on d' lookout for a sucker, see! Along he comes walkin' fast, this sucker. As he passes, d' Face gives him d' size-up. He's got a spark, an' a yellow chain, an' looks like he's good for a hundred in d' long green. That does for d' Face. He lets this guy get good an' by, an' then toins an' shadows him.