here was a fuzzy crackling over the wire. Like a ship-to-shore connection.
"Listen, pal," I said. "This joke is costing a couple of guys some lucrative trade. You are tying up a telephone they need badly in their business, or didn't you know that?"
"That can't be helped," the voice said stiffly.
"Be a good sport and get off the wire," I said.
"I have no intention of doing that until my boss has talked to Hitler and Mussolini," the voice said coldly. I knew a positive statement when I heard one. I hung up, clambered out of the booth, spread my hands expressively to Mike and Mort who stood there eagerly waiting for some good word.
"No soap," I said. "I don't think you got a joker on there, and I'd swear you haven't got a drunk."
"What have we got, then," Mike demanded. "A smart copper waiting to trap us?"
I shook my head. "I think you got a loony," I said. "But don't quote me." I started toward the door. "I got work to do, gents, but I'll look in again a little later. Hope you get rid of your pest."
"We'd better," Mike moaned dismally.
"Brother," Mort declared, pulling his hair and making a sincerely distraught face, "you're not kidding!"