“Where is it, thin?”
“Where it ought to be.”
“Where’s that?”
“Wud th’ owner.”
“It was not left in my room,” I exclaimed.
“It was left in number five.”
“Shure, number five’s gone,” cried the waiter.
“It’s news yer tellin’ us,” observed the boots with a surly grin.
“An’ is the portmantle tuk be number five?”
“Yis.”