"Can you lay over that, Ronicky?
Our wad won't last a week." "Say, pal," said the taxi driver, becoming suddenly friendly, "I can fix you up.

I know a neat little joint where you'll be as snug as you want.

They'll stick you about one-fifty per, but you can't beat that price in this town and keep clean." "Take us there," said Bill Gregg, and they climbed into the machine.
The taxi turned around, shot down Park Avenue, darted aside into the darker streets to the east of the district and came suddenly to a halt.
"Did you foller that trail ?" asked Bill Gregg in a chuckling whisper.
"Sure! Twice to the left, then to the right, and then to the left again.

I know the number of blocks, too.

Ain't no reason for getting rattled just because a joint is strange to us.