Judge — November 6, 1920 — page 6: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

| { | 6 J | "Twas Ever Tuus “Diamonds!” I exe I have to have diamonds “Of course. And set in platinum, too, You can’t get a first-class bur- glar to burgle diamonds that are set in cheap stuff like gold any more. If you will furnish a sworn statement that all your diamonds are three carot or larger, absolutely pure, and set in platinum, we will see wh we can do. Otherw e it would be to get a fi or you. waste of time to t ste class burglar te “How about we” “They are all overwo: 1 now too,” Twas told. “Some of th very wealthiest families on Long Islani! have had applications for second-c burglars on file here for over two years, and are still waiting. We'll put down your name, if you say so, but you will have to take your turn at the end of the list may get a burglar of the second-class to do the job for you by 192 “How about a fifth-gra 1 twenty-fifth grade,” I don’t care what grade he is as long as I eet the job done.” They looked at their register. “Well.” they said, “there's old Bill Skooks. You might get Bill Skooks. Bill has only one leg and he is paralyzed in both arms to an extent and you'll probably have Ip him some—open a window for him and help haul him in through the window and carry out the loot for him—but vou might get Bill if you pay him enough.” So I took Bill Skooks’s address and if s lucky to catch him just as he was go t for the afternoon ai! his Rolls-Royce, but he told his chauffeur to wait, and I told him I had a job I wanted done in the went to see him way of burglary and house-breaking. “Well, that’s my business, all right he said. “I’m pretty well dated up. but I'll see what I can do.” He pulled out a memorandum book ind went over the pages. *Pshaw!" he said, “I'd like to accommodate you, but the first open date I'y it is June 16, 1923. T'll put you down’ for then, if you say so, and do the job for you that night if it is a nice night and in. It'll cost you the regular no ri Burglar Union wages. What say? “All right,” I said. It is the best I can do, I guess. I'll engage you. “Good enough!” he said. “What is it you want stole: “Four cases of fine old 1839 = 6 ss bur- Drawn by Drawn by Rocems ener Tie Fasiry Puosocearn Otters wern aT Mellow Meadow whiskey, that is as smooth as velvet and as fragrant as roses. When you put a drop on your tongue it fills your mouth with bliss and the nectar of Olympus is stale and dead in comparison.” Bill Skooks closed his note book with a snap. Whiskey, hey?” he said with a sneer “Nothin’ doin’! Drive on, Mike; I've wasted too much time already with this poor coot.” What I want to know is what I can do to get rid of that whiskey. I can’t give it away or get anyone to drink it, and I can’t get any one to haul it to the dump, or to steal it. What I want to know is whether there is, somewhere some benevolent person who will accept four cases of 1839 one hundred and six proof Old Meliow Meadow whisk gift. if I throw in the $86,000 my g father left me as a bonus ? My address is Cell 38, Dr. Bascomb’s ably In- ey Private Sanatorium for the Incu sane, Westcote, Long Island. Listening! By Littan Davie You are not listen Not listening, darling? Every’ word Is music to my car!” Then tell me what I said to you “You said that—You are here iz, dear! Twixty Mixutes ix Havaya