The other night a policeman who was patrolling High street east, heard a whistle blown, followed by shouts for “police!” and after a run of half a block he came to a halt in front of a house where a second-story window was raised and a man had half his length over the sill.
“What’s the row?” demanded the officer.
“Some purglars vhas in mein house!” was the answer.
“How do you know?”
“I hears ’em make a noise more ash six times!”
“Where are they?”
“Down in der kitchen!”
“Have you been down to look around?”
“No! no! I tells my vhife to go, but she won’t stir! She shumps into bedt und covers oop her headt, und I vhas left to do all der fighting und be kilt! Dot’s der kind of a vhife she vhas!”
The officer investigated, to find that cats were responsible for the noises, and as he retired the householder was calling to his wife: