“That play was a case of fail,” remarked Mollie Matches thoughtfully. Then turning to me as chief auditor, he continued. “It's over twenty years ago; just on d' heels of d' Centenyul at Phil'delfy. D' graft was fairly flossy durin 'd' Centenyul, an' I had quite a pot of dough.
“One day a guy comes to me; he's a bank woiker, what d' fly people calls 'a gopher man'; he's a mug who's onto all d' points about safes an' such. Well, as I says, this soon guy comes chasin' to me.
“'Matches,' he says, 'don't say a woid; I'll put youse onto an easy trick. Come wit' me to Jersey, an' I'll show you a bin what's all organised to be cracked. Any old hobo could toin off d' play; it's a walk-over.'
“Wit' that, for I had confidence in this mark, see! We skins over to Jersey, an' he steers me out to a nearby town an' points me out a bank. What makes it a good t'ing is a vacant joint, wit' a 'To Rent' sign in d' window, built dost ag'inst d' side of d' bank.
“'Are youse on?' says d' goph, pointin' his main hook at d' empty house, an' then at d' bank.
“Bein' I'm no farmer meself, I takes no time to tumble. We screws our nuts, me an' d' goph, to d' duck who owns d' house, an 'd' nex' news is we rents it. D' duck who does d' rentin' says he can see we're on d' level d' moment we floats in; but all d' same, if we can bring him a tip or two on d' point of our bein' square people from one or two high rollers whose names goes, he'll take it kindly. We says, suttenly; we fills him to d' chin wit' all d' ref-runces he needs.
“'We won't do a t'ing but send our pastor to youse,' puts in d' goph.
“Good man, me pal was, as ever draws slide on a dark lantern, but always out to be funny.
“We rents d' joint, as I states, an' no more is said about refrunces. Now, when it comes to d' real woik, I ain't goin' to do none, see! I ain't down to dig an' pick; it spoils me hooks for dippin'. What I does is furnish d' tools an 'd' dough.
“I goes back an' gets a whole kit of bank tools—drills, centre-bits, cold-chisels, jointed-jimmies, wedges, pullers, spreaders, fuse, powder, mauls an' mufflers—I gets d' whole t'ing, see! Me pal knows a brace of pards who'll stand in on d' play. He calls 'em in, an' one night d' entire squeeze, wit 'd' tools, goes over an' plants themselfs in d 'empty house. Yes; dey takes grub an' blankets an' all dey needs.