Tomorrow at Seven

Clancy:
What's up, Mr. Drake?

Thornton Drake:
You of course know this 'Black Ace.'

Clancy:
Oh, sure. We *just* missed catching him about 6 months ago.

Dugan:
Sure, we trapped one of his earwiggers. It was like this: I'm wise this guy blatts out for stoolin'. So I'm crowdin' him wit' the heater but he don't belch. I know he's an alky stiff so I start feedin' him the dynamite when Clancy walks in wit' this guy's twist. She's all full o' happy dust and leapin'. He calls for a blizzard so we let 'er have it, figgerin' on the beef, see? She don't open up on the Black Ace, but she spills enough on this earwigger to get him fried in New York last September.

Thornton Drake:
What's he talking about?

Clancy:
[to Dugan] How many times have I gotta tell ya? These guys don't understand them technical terms! [to Drake] What he's tryin' to say is this: We buttoned one o' the Black Ace's spies who dropped a dim. He's sweatin' the guy with a rod, but it's no dice. But he remembers that the guy's a stew! So he starts givin' him a jolt now and then. Just then I breezes in with the guy's moll. She's a snowbird. So I gives her a sniff of the gold dust and she opens up on the guy. Last September they gave him the hot squat. That's what he's tryin' to tell ya.

Neil Broderick:
[to Dugan] You were a little vague.

Dugan:
[offended] Who's a vag?