_Bill._ A fire!

_Policeman._ Right yez are!

_Bill._ When did it happen?

_Policeman._ In the night.

_Bill._ And where's Schmidt?

_Policeman._ He's in jail.

_Bill._ In jail?

_Policeman._ Sure, the firemen smelled kerosene.

_Bill._ Holy smoke! The poor old Dutchie! He set fire to his place!

_Policeman._ That's what they say. I wasn't here.

_Bill._ Well, I'll be switched! If I'd been here I might a' got some
charlotte russes!

_Policeman._ With kerosene on them, belike! _(Starts Right.)_

_Bill._ Say, mister! Youse know that guy that was waiter here?

_Policeman._ Yes.