Birdwhistle Tearoom management has been informed that one of the waiters complained his tip had been stolen from a table that had not yet been bussed, by an unknown perpetrator who dined in the restaurant Saturday night.  A typically busy night forced him to get to the table late, after after he had seen a large wad of cash being put on the tray after the bill had been paid, when while leaving, the table host thanked and congratulated him on his perfect presentation of a flaming baked Alaska. Several groups were seated in close proximity to the table. It might have been anyone from those surrounding tables, all seemingly animated and having a good time with little care about their surroundings except for the usual titter and din of evaluations of any one group of men by all the others, which is the necessary ritual assessment  of potential tricks for the evening. All gay men have these discussions with their pals. "What about that one?" "Nice face, but did you see that horrible manicure when he lifted his glass? I bet his toenails are dirty", etc., etc. Then the snappy comeback: "It's not his toes I'll be be sucking." This night, the assembled members of the Ten Commandments Club, dining together with their applicant, took note of the anguish of the waiter whose tip their tablemate had just nicked. One of their number suggested to the thief that he should approach the waiter, offer his condolences, and invite him back to their elegantly appointed rented clubhouse in Aluminum City. The plan all went pretty successfully. Members are all smooth talkers, appear above suspicion, and are all devastatingly good looking.  Who in his right mind would say no to such an invitation?  He's lucky this wasn't a 6th commandment night. And The Ten Commandments Club has its newest member, who, now richer by fifty dollars, stood in line to screw the waiter once again.