"He went broke over—what do you think?—the give-away of an up-State fly-cop with caterpillars in his whiskers and grass-seed in his hair. Think of it—Peck, one of the best men in the business, busted by a bumble-bee, fresh off the dogwood! It happened this way: The State cop [State detective] looked as if he had come to see what was going on at Yard's Town Hall, but he really was a sharp lad who had mixed it up with a lot of good people, as we later found out. Well, Peck's mob picked him up as easy, and he toted them along till they almost hated to take the three thousand that he wrote home for. To show how much in earnest he was, he let Peck himself mail the letter to the Savings Bank at Geehaw Corners, ordering the cashier to sent the oof to Peck direct, to be placed on a horse that the innocent was to be tipped off to, day after to-morrow.
"So that day, the jay was allowed to win a hundred and fifty, and had a joyous time of it with the mob. At about midnight, Peck and the whole bunch were pinched, and think how they felt when the country cop threw back his coat and flashed a State detective badge! It cost the mob down to their shirt buttons to get out of the mess."
"How is the wire game in New York?" I queried.
"Never better, pal!" was the instant reply. "Everything is smooth with the Front Office, and the suckers are so thick that we can't attend to 'em."
"We?" I said.
Robins laughed. "I'm saying nothing. I'm a respectable business man with offices—here's my card."
With that we parted.
You can find a moral in all this—and you're welcome to it.