"Report here to-morrow at eleven. We're planning something pretty good. Here's ten dollars. Go rig yourself up a little better and get that eye painted out. Hustle up. I'm busy."
The dilapidated one took the bill and rolled his good eye in gratitude.
"Sure, guv'nor, you're white wid me. I kin always git treated right here."
"Don't thank me, it's business. Get out and look like a man when I see you next. I don't want any bums working for me."
The fat man jotted down a memorandum of his outlay on the little machine. Then he admitted the next caller.
"Ah, it's you, Jimmie. Well, what have you to say? You've been working pretty well, so Shepard tells me. What about his row the other night? I thought that girl was sure."
"Well, Mr. Clemm, ye see, we had it fixed all right, an' some foxy gink blows in wid a taxi an' lifts de dame right from outen Shepard's mit! De slickest getaway I ever seen. I don't know wot 'is game is, but he sure made some getaway, an' we never even got a smell at 'im."
"Who was with you on the deal? Who did the come-on?"
"Oh, pretty Baxter. You knows, w'en dat boy hands 'em de goo-goo an' wiggles a few Tangoes he's dere wid both feet! But dis girl was back on de job ag'in in her candy store next day. But Baxter'll git 'er yit. Shepard's pullin' dis t'eayter manager bull, so he'll git de game yet."
"Did her folks get wise?"