“There seems to be no problem with cash. The Carusos have plenty—I happen to know that his wife inherited money some years ago. Actually, their financial disclosures look pretty good.”

As well as the usual bank references and tax returns, the co-op demanded more than usually detailed statements of assets. Prospective buyers couldn’t fake them out. All the good co-op boards left applicants exposed when it came to their personal finances, but Vorpal and Bandersnatch wanted them totally naked.

“Hmm. Pretty good, but maybe not good enough. As you know, Gorham, the building has always looked for a comfortable margin here. On the basic level, we want to be quite sure there won’t be any difficulty with the monthly maintenance, which for Caruso’s apartment runs six thousand a month now, or with any assessments the board may need to impose. But we like evidence of solidness. We have for a long time now required that people can prove assets of maybe two or three times the value of the apartment they’re buying.”

“I’ve always thought that a little harsh.”

“Well, I think, and Jim thinks, that in the current climate we can do a little better.”

“Better?”

“What we’re really looking for here is five times assets.”

“You want Caruso to have twenty-five million dollars?”

“I think we can get that.”

“Hell, John, I don’t have twenty-five million dollars.”

“Your family’s been here seventy years. We like that.”

“But you want the new people to have that kind of money?”

“Those are the kind of people we want.”

“Do you have twenty-five million dollars, John?”

Maggie gave him a warning look. This question was a bad idea. But Gorham wasn’t going to back down.

“John, do you know what Groucho Marx said about clubs? ‘I don’t want to belong to a club that takes people like me.’ Are you sure we’re not straying into Groucho Marx territory here?”

“Other buildings are the same, Gorham. You’re out of date. There’s at least one building on this avenue that insists on ten times assets.”

“You mean, you’d need fifty million dollars before they let you in?”

“That’s exactly what I mean. You should know that, Gorham.”

Gorham said nothing. Actually, he did have some idea how things were going, though in fact he’d heard a story the other day of a grand building where things had gone the other way. Some twenty-five-year-old whiz kid from Wall Street had applied to a building and stated his newly earned assets. The chairman of the board was so furious that the kid was already so much richer than he was, that he turned him down. When asked why, he answered: “We’re looking for old money here.”

But he didn’t remind Vorpal of that story.

“I hear what you say, John, and I’ll think hard about it.”