“Woman?  What woman?”

“The woman that got me paroled out.  She got I don’t know how many people to sign a petition, sayin’ I was a fine feller and all that kind o’ bunk, and all I needed was a chance to show the world how honest I am and—­why, of course, I was honest.  How could I help bein’ honest up there?  What’s eatin’ the darn fools?  The only thing you can steal up there is a nap, and you got to be mighty slick if you want to do that, they watch you so close.  But do you know what’s going on in this country right now, Mr. Popple?  There’s a regular organized band of law-breakers operating from one end of the nation to the other.  We’re tryin’ to bust it up, but it’s a tough job.  The best way to reform a reformer is to rob him.  The minute he finds out he’s been robbed he turns over a new leaf and begins to beller like a bull about how rotten the police are.  Ninety nine times out of a hundred he quits his cussed interferin’ with the law and becomes a decent, law-observin’ citizen.  Our scheme is to get busy as soon as we’ve been turned loose and while our so-called benefactors are still rejoicin’ over havin’ snatched a brand from the burnin’, we up and show ’em the error of their ways.  First offenders get off fairly easy.  We simply sneak in and take their silver and some loose jewelry.  The more hardened they are, the worse we treat ’em.  Eing leaders some times get beat up so badly it’s impossible to identify ’em at the morgue.  But in time we’ll smash the gang, and then if a feller goes up for ten, twenty or even thirty years he’ll know there’s no underhanded work goin’ on and he can settle down to an honest life.  The only way to stop crime in this country, Mr. Yollop, is to—­”

“Thank you.”

“—­is to make everybody respect the law.  And with conditions so pleasant and so happy in the prison I want to tell you there’s nobody in the country that respects and admires the law more than we do,—­’specially us fellers that remember what the penitentiaries used to be like a few years ago when conditions were so tough that most of us managed to earn an honest livin’ outside sooner than run the risk of gettin’ sent up.”  He sighed deeply.  Then with a trace of real solicitude in his manner:  “Are your feet warm yet?”

“Warm as toast.  Your discourse, Cassius, has moved me deeply.  Perhaps it would comfort you to call up police headquarters again 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.