Joan looked at Peter and laughed heartily. "Peter Faust Hedgerly.
Having a thirty-odd year grandson is quite a record for such as you,"
she told him. "You will only be thirty-two next birthday."
Peter turned to the other angrily. "Can it," he snapped. "Grandson my
ankle!"
"I am your grandson."
"Yeah ... sure. Shall I call the cops now?"
"You could, but you will not."
"Oh spinach!" Peter headed for the phone again but the stranger said,
quietly, "Might listen to me, Peter."