and tell 'em to hurry along?"

"Wouldn't be a bad idea," said Mr. Smilk. He took down the receiver.
Presently: "Police headquarters? ... How about sending over to 418
Sagamore for that burglar I was speakin' to you about recently? ...
Sure, he's here yet. ... The same name I gave you earlier in the
evening. ... Spell it yourself. You got it written down on a pad
right there in front of you, haven't you? ... Say, if you don't get
somebody around here pretty quick, I'm goin' to call up two or three
of the newspaper offices and have 'em send--... All right. See that
you do." Turning to Mr. Yollop, he said: "The police are a pretty
decent lot when you get to know 'em, Mr. Yollop. They do their share
towards enforcin' the law. They do their best to get us the limit.
The trouble is, they got to fight tooth and nail against almost
everybody that ain't on the police force. Specially jurymen. There
ain't a juryman in New York City that wants to believe a policeman
on oath. He'd sooner believe a crook, any day. And sometimes the
judges are worse than the juries. A pal of mine, bein' in
considerable of a hurry to get back home one very cold winter,
figured that if he went up and plead guilty before a judge he'd save
a lot of time. Well, sir, the doggone judge looked him over for a
minute or two, and suddenly, out of a clear sky, asked him if he had
a family,--and when he acknowledged, being an honest though ignorant
guy, that he had a wife and three children, the judge said, if he'd
promise to go out and earn a livin' for them he'd let him off with a
suspended sentence, and before he had a chance to say he'd be damned
if he'd make any such fool promise, the bailiff hustled him out the
runway and told him to 'beat it'. He had to go out and slug a poor
old widow woman and rob her of all the money she'd saved since her
husband died--say, that reminds me. I got a favor I'd like to ask