"Plaps we no makee find out."
"Dot's vere der tedectif part comes in."
"Plaps we no gottee sense enough, Clal."
"Ach, du lieber!" grunted Carl. "Ditn't I findt dot Margaret Manners vat vas draveling mit der show? Ditn't I get dot Ben Ali Hindoo feller on der run? Ditn't I vin fife tousant tollars?"
"You no gettee fi' thousan' dol'."
"I vill get dot. It has to come from Inchia, und Inchia iss more as ten tousant miles from vere I am. It takes time to get money from Inchia. I was a shmard feller to do all dot. Meppy I gif you some lessons und you vill be as shmard as vat I am."
"Plaps."
"You vant to choin in mit me, hey?"
"Awri'. No savvy pidgin, Clal. What we do?"
Before Carl could answer, the "barker" for the side show came running around the tent wall. Carl grabbed the letter out of Ping's hand and thrust it into his pocket.