“Right. And I went up as high as the fourth floor, asking the people whose windows were over the place where I picked it up. They were all home, as it happened, and none of them had ever seen it. I thought it might have fallen off a window ledge. But—”
“What’s in it, Dick?” Edith asked.
“Dolls. Four of them. I brought them over this evening for Aubrey. If she wants them.”
He untied the package, and Aubrey said, “Oooo, Uncle Richard. They’re—they’re lovely. ”
Sam said, “Hm. Those look almost more like manikins than dolls, Dick. The way they’re dressed, I mean. Must have cost several dollars apiece. Are you sure the owner won’t turn up?”
Richard shrugged. “Don’t see how he can. As I told you, I went up four floors, asking. Thought from the look of the box and the sound of the thud, it couldn’t have come from even that high. And after I opened it, well—look—” He picked up one of the dolls and held it out for Sam Walters’ inspection.
“Wax. The heads and hands, I mean. And not one of them cracked. It couldn’t have fallen from higher than the second story. Even then, I don’t see how—” He shrugged again.
“They’re the Geezenstacks,” said Aubrey.
“Huh?” Sam asked.
“I’m going to call them the Geezenstacks,” Aubrey said. “Look, this one is Papa Geezenstack and this one is Mama Geezenstack, and the little girl one—that’s—that’s Aubrey Geezenstack. And the other man one, we’ll call him Uncle Geezenstack. The little girl’s uncle.”