"Cousin," admits Tidman, turnin' sulky.
"And sort of a blot on the escutcheon?" I goes on.
Tidman nods.
"Booze or dope?" I asks.
"Both, I think," says Tidman. "He—he has almost ruined my career."
"Pulls the Black Hand stuff on you, eh?" says I.
Tidman groans.
"I lost two positions because of him," says he. "It is only when he gets desperate that he hunts me up. I hadn't seen him for over two years until this morning. I'd been out for a walk, and he must have followed me. We were in the front vestibule, and he was begging, as usual,—threatening, too,—when I saw Mr. Pettigrew coming in. So I hurried Ralph through the hall and downstairs. I thought he could stay there until I was through tutoring; then I could give him something and send him off. But that Mrs. Flynn—"
"She's a swell short-stop," says I. "Doin' extra duty, too. Got a couple of fives on you?"
"Why, ye-e-es," says Tidman; "but what—"