“Wit' his cab, as I says, d' Rat is miles away, an' has time to shed his wig an' goggles an' cork-sole before d' guy wit' d' diamonds tumbles to it he's been done. That's how d' Rat gets in his woik. Now I'll tell youse how d' Central Office people t'run d' harpoon into him.
“One day d' Rat makes a play an' gets two butes. He tucks 'em away in back of his teet', an' is just raisin' his nut to say somethin', when d' store duck grabs him an' raises a roar. Two or t'ree cloiks an' a cop off d' street comes sprintin' up, an' away goes d' Rat to d' coop.
“Wit 'd' foist yell of d' sucker who makes d' front for d' store—naw, he ain't d' owner, he's one of d' cloiks—d' Rat goes clean outside of d' sparks at a gulp; swallows 'em; that's what he does. There bein' no diamond toined up, an' no one at headquarters bein' onto him—for he's always laid low an' kept out of sight of d' p'lice—d' Rat makes sure dey'll have to t'run him loose.
“But d' boss cop is pretty cooney. He figgers it all out, how d' Rat's a crook, an' how he's eat d' diamonds, just as I says. So he cons d' Rat an' t'rows a dream into him. He tells him there'll be no trouble, but he'll have to keep him for an hour or two until his 'sooperior off'cer,' as he calls him, gets there. He's d' main squeeze, this p'lice dub dey're waitin' for, an' as soon as he shows up an' goes over d' play, d' Rat can screw out.
“That's d' sort of song an' dance d' high cop gives d' Rat; an' say! I'm a lobster if d' Rat don't fall to it, at that. On d' dead! this p'lice duck is so smooth an' flossy d' Rat believes him.
“Just for appearances d' Rat registers a big kick; an' then—for dey don't lock him up at all—he plants himself in a easy chair to do a toin of wait. D' Rat couldn't have broke an' run for it, even if he'd took d' scare, for d' cops is all over d' place. But he ain't lookin' for d' woist of it nohow. He t'inks it's all as d' boss cop has told him; he'll wait there an hour or two for d' main guy an' then dey'll cut him free.
“After a half hour d' boss cop says: 'It's no use you bein' hungry, me frien', an' as I'm goin' to chew, come wit' me an' feed your face. D' treat's on me, anyhow, bein' obliged to detain a respect'ble old mucker like you. So come along.'
“Wit' that d' Rat goes along wit 'd' boss cop, an' all d' time he's t'inkin' what a Stoughton bottle d' cop is.
“It's nex' door, d' chop-house is. D' cop an 'd' Rat sets down an' breasts up to d' table. Dey gives d' orders all right, all right. But say! d' grub never gets to 'em. D' nex' move after d' orders, d' Rat, who's got a t'irst on from d' worry of bein' lagged, takes a drink out of a glass.
“'I'm poisoned!' yells d' Rat as he slams down d' tumbler; 'somebody's doped me!' an' wit' that d' Rat toins in, t'rows a fit, an' is seasick to d' limit.