Detective Bob Bridger — page 132: what you’re looking at

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

DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 125 think. ‘Sure de man must be a Nevada silver-king, a country senator, or somedings.’ “Vell, pefore be vatier got yet avay from him he says: “*Hic-chew! Vaiter, I vould ask you, dere vas no dan- ger by fire by dis building, vas it?’ ‘“*No, sir,’ de vaiter said. “Vell, I only vanted to—hic-chew !—know,’ dot: bad gonsumpted man said. “Vell, ven he had de soup half done, he squeels owed : * Hic-chew ! vaiter, a bottle of your finest glaret vine.’ “And ven he eats up his dinner he squeels out once more: — *“*FfYic-chew! vaiter, a pint bottle of champagne!’ “Vile he sips de champagne he says to de vaiter : ** Hic-chew ! vaiter, I vould tell you now, you could in abowed dree seconds send for an officer.’ “*Vat kind of an officer?’ vas vat de vaiter asked him. “*Hic-chew! De usual kind—a boliceman,’ he said. “*A boliceman!’ cried out de vaiter, and so did de Eng- lish shentelmans, vat all de vile vonder to see a man vat could eat a dinner vorth fifteen dollars and a half. ‘** Hic-chew ! a policeman,’ repeated dot bad gonsumpted man, very quietly. “*Vat you vant it for?’ cried de vaiter, crowing right avay grazy on his feet, vile de English shentleman’s eyes stick out like goose eggs mit surprise, and my heart pegins to chump up agin my prains. “*Fric-chew! To take me up,’ he said. “*Dake youup!’ spoke de vaiter, vile he proke a new soup blate over de head of his astonishment. “* Hic-chew !’ vas de quite cool, airy, Coney Island, Rock- away, sea-breeze answer. ‘But I don’t insist you should do so—only I vould inform you, I vould go right avay owed. ven I end my champagne.’ “*Vell, sir, your bill vill be made owed in shust von minute,’ said de vaiter. ‘““*T vould not doubt you,’ dot bad gonsumptive man says, vile he sips de vine shust like he own de vurld. ‘But it vouldn’t be paid in von minute, shust de same. De fact vas, I don’t got any money.’ “Vell, de English shentlemans half chumped up on his own dable, and I vent back so quick mit discouragement, de shair dipped.and throws me almost through de bartition, vile de vaiter yell out like he vas mad: “Here! Mr. Bergen! Here! Mr. Bergen!’ “So soon I could get myself together, and make myself. comicbooks Go