 What wasn't abnormal in the detective kit?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction December 1956. When he slid under the table containing the drinks, Miss Pringle, who sold millinery, had screamed: "He'll drown!" One out of every three dirty stories started by party attendees had remained unfinished, because each had reminded someone else of another story. The recently developed liquors which affected the bloodstream three times faster had driven away twinges of conscience about untrimmed trees and midnight church services. The janitor foreman weighed fifty pounds less than the Burma gentleman, who was the salesman's customary opponent. Several employes even felt a passing suspicion that things might be getting out of hand. "It's all in the spirit of good, clean fun!" cried Mr. Hawkins, the assistant general manager. There was a scurry to shove the broken glass out of sight and to turn more attention to another type of glasses. Mr. Hawkins himself, acting by reflex, attempted to return the portrait to its place until new glass could be obtained. "We'd better put old H. H. away for safekeeping until after the holiday," he told a small, blonde salesclerk who was beneath his attention on any working day. A yellowed envelope slipped to the floor as the picture came free. Hawkins rolled the picture like a scroll and put it into a desk drawer, for later attention. To hear more of it, he said to her: "I'll bet that's been in there ever since the picture was framed. There's a company legend that that picture was put up the day this branch opened, eighty years ago." The flap popped open and an old-fashioned order blank fell out. He bent, reached painfully over his potbelly and picked up the order form. Milly was reading aloud the scrawled words on the order form: "Best electric doorbell. Junior detective kit. Disposable sacks for vacuum cleaner. "Unless—" he said it loud enough for the employes to scent a great proposal and the room grew quiet—"unless we broke the rules just once and used the time warp on a big mission!" We were always told that it must be used only for complaints within three days." Mr. Hawkins downed the rest of his drink and pulled a batch of keys from his pocket. But I remember that my grandmother never bought anything from Hartshorne-Logan because of some trouble her mother had once with the firm. Mr. Hawkins put his arm around Milly in a way that he intended to look fatherly.
 the flashlight
 the white powder  the toy gun  the Detectolite  the flashlight