Free Grab Bag by Charlotte MacLeod

He’s been phoning every hour on the hour to see whether Max has found it yet.”
    “As a matter of fact, his parting bellow was that I—er—call the matter to Mr. Max’s attention.”
    Max grinned. “In precisely those words?”
    “Not precisely, Mr. Max.”
    “Tell him I’m hot on the trail. More brandy?”
    “Thanks, but I ought to be getting along.”
    “Come on, then.”
    The two men set out to walk the short distance from Tulip Street to Pinckney. “Who else is going to the party?” Max asked. “The whole Codfish crowd?”
    “No, I believe Mr. Jem was the only Comrade invited, except for the Tooters themselves, of course, and Mr. Wripp, who’s recently had a cataract operation. Mrs. Tooter felt the outing would do Mr. Wripp good.”
    “No doubt,” said Bittersohn. “What office does Mr. Wripp hold?”
    “Mr. Wripp is a Formerly Grand Exalted Chowderhead. Being by now ninety-two years of age, he appears content to rest on past laurels. Oh yes, and Mr. Obed Ogham will be among those present. So maybe it’s all for the best that Mr. Jem won’t.”
    “Why? Don’t he and Ogham get along?”
    “None of the Kellings get along with Obed Ogham, Mr. Max. He’s the bird who sued Mr. Percy Kelling for two dollars and forty-seven cents he claimed Mr. Percy overcharged him. That was after Mr. Percy’s accounting firm had helped Ogham recover the five and a half million dollars Ogham’s comptroller had been swindling him out of.”
    “Oh yes, the King of the Crumbs. How come he and Jem both belong to the same club?”
    “There have always been Kellings and Oghams among the Codfish,” Egbert explained. “Neither is willing to cede his ancestral right. Noblesse oblige, as you might say.”
    “But don’t the Tooters know Jem and Ogham are feuding?”
    “They’re not exactly feuding, Mr. Max. I believe it’s more a matter of maintaining a haughty silence in each other’s presence.”
    Max found his mind boggling at the notion of Jem’s maintaining a haughty silence in anybody’s presence, but he was kind enough not to say so.
    “Besides,” Egbert went on, “Mr. Ogham and Mr. Wouter Tooter are this year’s Highmost and Least-most Hod-carriers respectively. It’s not the done thing for one Hod-carrier to exclude a Comrade of the Hod from any of his routs and junkets, personal feelings notwithstanding. Comrade White, the Midmost Hod-carrier, would normally have been included, too, but he’s just left for Nairobi on a business trip. Mr. Jem was to have escorted Mrs. White.”
    “Mrs. White’s a good-looking, well-dressed woman somewhat on the buxom side and fond of a good time in a nonthreatening sort of way, right?”
    “You know the lady, Mr. Max?”
    “No, but I know Jem. And the rest, I suppose would be friends of the Tooters?”
    “I expect they’ll be mostly railroad buffs and members of Mr. Wouter Tooter’s model railroad club. It won’t be a large party, since the parlor car can’t accommodate more than thirty or forty people comfortably.”
    “That sounds like a lot of money to spend on a relatively small affair, wouldn’t you say?”
    “Between you and me, Mr. Max. I think it’s partly what they call public relations. Somebody’s been spreading a rumor that the Tooter enterprises are in financial difficulties. I shouldn’t be surprised if making a splash now is their way of squashing the rumor before their stock starts to drop.”
    “Very interesting. Well, here’s the old homestead. Mind if I come up with you?”
    “Thanks, Mr. Max, but you mustn’t feel obliged.”
    “I want to see where it happened.”
    “Just a second till I find my key. Ah, here we are. There’s the staircase, you see, and Mr. Jem was on the floor at the foot.”
    “Marble floor, I see. Damn good thing he didn’t go down head first. Who uses the stairs as a rule?”
    “Nobody, unless the elevator gets stuck. I used to, but I have to say I find them more of a climb than I like