The journey through the outer office was accomplished without mishap, though Mr. Culpepper, running afoul of a swivel chair, had to be restrained from attacking the whirling piece of furniture bodily. Marc and Toffee took him in charge and guided him gently into Marc's private office, where Agatha and Chadwick had preceded them and turned on the lights.
Agatha turned on Toffee threateningly. "Well, we're here," she said. "Where are the pills?"
Toffee nodded toward the desk. "Over there," she said. "The green bottle."
At the sight of the bottle both Agatha and Chadwick seemed to lose a good deal of their dignified reserve; they fairly trampled each other in a rush for the desk. Reaching the bottle, they grappled openly across the desk for its possession. Marc and Toffee dropped Mr. Culpepper to the lounge and stood by for developments.
"Give it here!" Agatha shrilled. "Let me have it, do you hear!"
"I'll let you have it right enough," Chadwick grunted back at her. "I'll let you have it right in the eye with my fist."
"Louse!" Agatha yelled. "I'm going to be head of this organization. I have the brains anyway."
"Since when?" Chadwick jeered. "If it weren't for me you'd still be carrying grog behind a bar."
"Yes," Agatha said evilly, trying to twist the bottle out of his hand, "and you, sponge that you are, would be soaking it up as fast as I could carry it. Give me that bottle, you old rummy."
"Take your grasping claws off it," Chadwick said levelly, "before I lose my temper. I'll see that the pills are handled properly."