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The Daily Dispatch: December 22, 1860., [Electronic resource], article 1 (search)
rcely believing their own eyes. "Ther devil 'imself would find it 'ard to tell ye," observed Dick, sulkily. "Vy, Beg, as knows everybody, with von eye, gets taken in; but, Tomtit, vot's the news! a locksmith." "Vy don't you go, Tomtit; yer vould make a rum coachee, yer vould?" suggested Dick with a grin. "Why, as to that, I suppose I might suit the old gentleman to a hair," returnedr chief they sullenly resumed their seats. "Is it a worry comfortable looking bag?" enquired Dick, rubbing his hands in expectation of plunder. "Very promising looking, I should say," replieady his apartment, which last direction caused Mr. Beg to grin from ear to ear. "Mind," said Dick, "to put 'im in the room vot's got the trap-door, vich is ther worry model of conwenience, and thion to the trap-door, and left his friends to continue their consultation. "My advice," said Dick, "is to run 'im down ven he's snoozing, and drop 'im in ther vat; dead men doesn't tell tales."