"That's talkin'!" says I. "My guess is that it won't take long. Suppose you and Peters go back upstairs. You can leave Tidman, though."
"You—you're sure it is safe?" asks Waldo.
"Look at that grip of Mrs. Flynn's," says I.
After one skittish glance, Waldo does a quick exit. At that, though, Peters beat him to it.
"Tidman," says I, when they're gone, "we'll step out towards the back a ways and consult. Hold him a minute longer, Mrs. Flynn."
"I—I don't see why I should be dragged into this," whines Tidman, as I leads him towards the rear.
"Never mind," says I. "We're goin' to clear this all up right away. Now, who is he, Tidman? Black-sheep brother, or what?"
Got a jump out of him, that jab did. But he recovers quick.
"Why, he's no relative at all," says Tidman. "I assure you that I never saw the—"
"Naughty, naughty!" says I. "Didn't I spot that peaked beak of his, just like yours? That's a fam'ly nose, that is."