"Well, listen, kid, and I'll spill it to ya," Murphy said, talking as they walked. "Dis raid was all a phoney, get me?"
"A phoney?"
"Ya, a phoney! Fixed, framed, phoney, see? I get my orders da other day. A friend o' mine tips me. He steers me dat de handbooks are goin' to be pulled and if I'm pinched for me to go through with it and there'll be ten bucks in it for me."
"How?" asked John, impatiently.
"I'll get my ten bucks from da boss for bein' a good little boy and gettin' pinched, see? It's dis way: Dis new commissioner, Gibson, wants to make a big play, get me? He wants to do a grandstand on da bookmakers and de 'Gink's' for him, see?"
"The 'Gink'?" exclaimed John. "'Gink' Cummings?"
"Sssh, not so loud, not so loud," cautioned Murphy.
"You mean to tell me that the 'Gink' is helping Gibson?" John demanded, coming to a standstill.
"Come on," said Murphy, tugging at his arm. "I didn't say dat, did I? All I said was dat da 'Gink' was for him pulling the bookies. Search me, why. I figures it dat da 'Gink' has split with da bookies and is out to teach 'em to behave."
"Then this raid was just what Cummings wanted?"