"How then came you by his super?"
"Blast the super! for I fear it has got me into a muss."
"If I take you to Newgate for it, Bell, it will be apt to get you into a halter."
"Well, then it will save me from the Bay fever, or dying in the gutter; for all such as I am must draw one of the three chances."
"Make me your confessor, Bell, without any equivocation or drawback, and I may stand between you and Jack Ketch."
"But what about the stone-jug?"
"That depends upon circumstances. Is the bloke living or dead?"
"Living, for all I know to the contrary."
"You know all about him, Bell."
"If I do, may I cly the jerk at a drag; be trussed in a Kilmainham garter, and fall to the surgeons."