I blame Dorothy Sayers

Imagine a man--not a terribly honorable man (guilty, in fact, of murder; though only two people know it yet)--who has become entangled in a deadly drug-smuggling ring. At the beginning, he didn't know what he was getting into, but he needed money; and even when he did find out what it was all about, he stuck with it. Imagine that such a man, under the growing suspicion that you (who are obviously a British lord who moonlights as a self-directed private detective of sorts) are on to his trick, comes to your flat one night to confess. After exchanging tales and getting the whole thing sorted out, making it quite evident that his game is up, suppose the man confides that, though he himself is strangely relieved that it's over, his one great distress is that his past deeds will cause his wife and child such pain and public disgrace.
The role the man played in the drug-trafficking was inconspicuous, though vital. Its revelation, besides shocking and shaming his family, would also ruin the reputation of the advertising firm for which he worked, and through which he secretly worked his mischief.
The murder he committed was related to the drug business, and was rather ingeniously constructed to look like an unfortunate accident, and has been credited as such by all the world, apart from yourself and one discerning young lady.
Suppose you are well aware, as you talk together this evening, that another member of the drug ring has trailed your man here, and is waiting somewhere in the shadows outside, fully intent on doing him in as he makes his way home again.
You are also aware that if your man stays a few hours in your flat, he will be safe, for your friends at Scotland Yard will by then have sprung their trap on the rest of the gang elsewhere in the city, and the would-be assassin will have fled for his own life.
The man contemplates suicide, to save his wife and child from the scandal (provided you hold your tongue, of course).

Knowing all this, could it be justifiable to suggest something else to the man? What if you said,

"Listen! I think there is one other way out. It won't help you, but it may make all the difference to your wife and child."
"How?"
"They need never know anything about all this. Nothing. Nobody need ever know anything, if you do as I tell you."
"What do you mean? Tell me quickly. I'll do anything."
"It won't save you."
"That doesn't matter. Tell me."
"Go home now. Go on foot, and not too fast. And don't look behind you."

What if the blood drained from his face as he said, "I think I know what you mean. . .very well."

And what if he did it?

conversations with a five-year-old superhero

Tierney is walking through her parents’ bedroom.
Enter Eli (wearing a cape with the collar turned up, a belt with a pistol holster bearing a wooden sword, and Tierney’s graduation cap) and Sam (dressed in long johns, a baby bib, and a too-small knitted cap of some kind).

Tierney: Oh, look, it’s a graduated superhero.
Eli: No, it’s actually a helmet. It only looks like a graduation hat.
Tierney: I see.
Sam: Hi, Middis Bott.
Tierney: Mrs. Potts? Why do I always have to be Mrs. Potts? Can’t I be someone else this time?
Sam: No. Middis Bott.
Tierney: Oh, fine. Who are you, again?
Eli: Mr. Beeda. Or maybe Baby Mayne.
Sam: Yeah. Baby Mayne.
Tierney: Oh. Hi, Baby Mayne.
Sam: Hi…
Eli: My name is Jack. I’m actually a guard at the hotel.
Tierney: The hotel?
Eli: This is the hotel.
Tierney: I see. Do all the hotel guards wear helmets like that?
Eli: Yeah, it has armor underneath. I have two chain mail shirts, too. And this is my sword.
Tierney: At least your sword looks like a sword.
Eli: Yeah.
Tierney: Do you get a lot of armed robbers at this hotel?
Eli: No, I’ve got two chain mail shirts.
Tierney: I know, but why do you need all that armor? Do you get attacked a lot?
Eli: Not really. Sometimes I wear a suit coat.
Tierney: Oh. Do you wear your chain mail underneath?
Eli: No, just a white shirt.
Tierney: I see. Do people call you Agent 86 when you wear your suit coat?
Eli: Yeah, but I’m really a guard.
Tierney: Disguised as Agent 86?
Eli: Yeah.
Tierney: Very tricky.
Sam: Daddoo, beez! Daddoo, beez!
Tierney: What?
Sam: Daddoo, beez!
Tierney: Tractor please?
Sam: No, daddoo, beez!
Eli: Oh, you want your gun?
Sam: No…
(A trek is made to Sam’s dresser, wherefrom Eli pulls a largeish “number one” birthday candle.)
Tierney: Oh…I see. Candle please.
Eli: That’s his gun.
Tierney: Oh. It looks like a candle.
Eli: It’s a gun.
Tierney: Disguised as a candle?
Eli: Yeah.
Sam: Yeah. Daddoo.
Tierney: So then you can tell all the bad guys, ‘No, I just carry a candle around with me for fun,’ and then you can shoot them.
Eli (laughing): Yeah, like, pshew! Pshew!
Tierney: Oh, that was fun.
Sam: Yeah. Dun. Bad duys. Oh!
Tierney: Oh man...
Sam: Oh man!
Tierney: What is it?
Sam: Dood duys! Winnow!
Tierney: The good guys are coming in the window?
Sam: Yeah. Dood duys.
Tierney: Good guys should really come in the door.
Sam: Yeah. Bad duys.
Tierney: Oh, there are bad guys, too?
Sam: Yeah, winnow.
Tierney: Well you’d better get them!
Sam: Pshew! Pshew! There.
Tierney: How do you tell which ones are the bad guys that you can shoot?
Eli: The bad guys all wear white, and the good guys all wear black.
Tierney: Sam’s wearing white.
Eli: No, he has a blue bib, and this blue hat, and a tractor on his jammies.
Tierney: Oh. So the bad guys just wear all white with nothing on it. Are you a good guy, Sam?
Sam: No. Dood baby.
Eli: All the good babies wear white pajamas with this little tractor on them, and a light blue hat, and a blue bib with a brown dog on it, and above the dog it says ‘woof’, and no socks.
Tierney: I see. That’s quite a uniform.
Sam: Oh! Bad duys!
Tierney: Bad guys over there, too? Good grief, they’re coming out of the woodwork tonight.
Sam: Dood duys!
Tierney: Bad guys and good guys? Oh dear. Are they fighting?
Sam: Yeah.
Tierney: Who’s winning, the bad guys or the good guys?
Sam: Um…bad duys.
Tierney: Oh no! You’d better go help. You can’t let the bad guys win!
Sam: Dun?
Eli: Yeah, here, shoot my helmet.
Tierney: You want a hole in your helmet?
Eli: No, it’s got armor under it.
Tierney: Oh, it’s bullet-proof?
Eli (scornfully): No, it’s sword-proof.
Tierney: So if someone shot your helmet, the bullet would go through and kill you?
Eli: No, it’s armor.
Tierney: Well, that’s what bullet-proof means. Bullets can’t get through it.
Eli: Oh. Yeah. It is.
Tierney: That’s good.
Eli: I’m actually one of them, over there.
Tierney: One of the good guys?
Eli: Yeah. I’m a guard.
Tierney: So I hear.
Eli: All the guards wear black pants and a grey shirt, and white socks, and a black cape, and a sword, and a helmet.
Tierney: Goodness. Who designed your uniform, anyway?
Eli: The hotel, of course!

Exit Eli and Sam. Finis.