"And just remember," I adds, "when the fit strikes you to call again,
that Mrs. Flynn is always on hand."
"She's a female hyena, that woman," says Cousin Ralph, rubbin' his back
between groans. "I--I wouldn't get within a mile of her again for a
fortune."
Couldn't have been more'n ten minutes before the three of us--Waldo,
Tidman, and me--was all grouped in the lib'ry again, just as though
nothing had happened.
"My hunch was right," says I. "He wasn't a burglar. Ask Tidman."
Tidman backs me up hearty.
"Then who the deuce was he," demands Waldo, "and what was he--"
"Now, say!" says I. "You've been let out, ain't you? He's gone; no
police, no court proceedin's, no scandal in the servants' quarters.
Ain't that enough?"
"You're quite right," says Waldo. "And we still have time for that
chapter of--"
"So you have," says I; "only you got to ditch this Toothpicketus work
until you sign an order to your lawyers about sellin' that land. Here,
lemme draft it off for you. Twelve words. Likely they'll want an O.
K. on the 'phone, too; but you won't mind that. Now your signature.
Thanks. And say, any time you and Tidman need a crude commercial mind
to help you out, just send for me."
Uh-huh! By three o'clock next day we owned the whole of that Apache
Creek tract and had the goods to shove at Ballinger.
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