“Before this I goes ag'inst d' bank janitor; an' while he's a fairly downy party, I wins him. D' janitor of d' bank gets a hundred bones, an' I gets a map of d' bank, which shows where d* money is planted an' all about it.
“What's d' idee? Our racket is to tunnel from d' cellar of d' joint we rents, under d' sidewall of d' bank, an' keep on until we reaches d' stuff, see! We're out to do all d' woik we can wit'out lettin' d' bank-crush twig d' graft. Then we waits till Saturday noon. D' bank shuts up on Saturday noon, understan'! An' then we has till Monday at 9 o'clock to finish d' woik. An' say! it's time plenty! It gives us time to boin!
“As I states, I don't do any of d' woik. D' gopher an' his two pals is all d' job calls for. So I lays dead in d' town, ready to split out me piece of d' plunder, an' waits results.
“To hurry me yarn, everyt'ing woiks like it's greased to fit d' play. D' mob gets d' tunnel as far as it'll go. Saturday noon comes an 'd' last sucker who belongs to d' bank skips out. It's then me gopher an' his two pals t'rows themselfs.
“All t'rough Saturday afternoon an' all d' night till daylight Sunday mornin', them gezebos woiks away like dogs. An' say! don't youse ever doubt it! dey was winnin' in a walk.
“But all this time d' pins was set up to do 'em. It was d' same old story. There's always some little nogood bet a crook is sure to overlook, an' it goes d' wrong way an' downs him. Here's what happens:
“In d' foist place, we forgets to take d' 'To Rent' sign out of d' window, see! That's d' beginnin'. Nex,' me goph an' his side-partners digs so much dirt out of d' tunnel it fills d' cellar. Honest! it won't hold no more.
“At this last, dey takes to shovelin 'd' dirt into a bushel basket. Then dey carries it up d' back stairs and dumps it on d' floor of a summer kitchen. Be 7 o'clock Sunday, mebby dey dumps as many as six basketfuls; dumps it, as I tells youse, in this lean-to, which is built on d' rear.
“Now, right at this time there's an old Irish Moll who keeps a boardin' house not far away who is flyin' along to early Mass, bein' dead religious an' leary about her soul, see! This old goil, as she comes sprintin' along, gets her bleary old lamps on d' 'To Rent' card. All at onct d' idee fetches her a t'ump in d' cocoa that d' house would be out of sight for a boardin' joint. Wit' that she steers herself in to take a squint an' size up d' crib.
“D' door is locked, so d' old goil can't come in. Wit' that she leads d' nex' best card an' goes galumpin' round, pipin' off d' place t'rough d' windows. An' say! she gets stuck on it. She t'inks if she can rent it, she can run d' dandy boardin' house of d' ward in it.