Bruce Campbell

“ Ken looked unconvinced. “I still don’t think it was very smart of you to become suspicious just because you smelled film in that basket. After all, if a man plans to rob a jewelry store, and his success depends on a good rousing fire, you’d think he’d look into the subject a little first. That he’d make sure he had the right materials on hand.”
“Well, I thought maybe this wasn’t carefully planned,” Sandy said argumentatively. “Couldn’t it have been done on impulse—on the spur of the moment? In that case you might easily duck into a drugstore and buy a roll of film. It’s easy to carry around. ”

“ Enjoy yourself,” Ken told him, slumping into a chair without bothering to remove his overcoat.
Sandy swung around to grin at him. “You can’t blame me, can you? When a mastermind like yourself gets really tangled up in his own theories—when he is knocked out by the weight of his own genius—Now where are you going?” he demanded as Ken got up and started toward the boys’ bedroom in the rear of the apartment. Sandy followed him.
“It doesn’t concern you,” Ken told him. “And it’s got nothing to do with the box.” ”

“ Sandy, upright on his knees again, pulled his tiny new camera out of his pocket. He held it in the column of light for Ken to see, and Ken nodded vehemently.
A photograph of the men around that money-laden table ought to be enough to send every Treasury agent in the country to Chatham Square.
Then Ken saw that Sandy was rising carefully to his feet. For a moment he was puzzled. Dimly he saw Sandy gesture toward the outer room, and finally Ken understood him. Sandy had to adjust his camera before it would be ready for use, and realized they didn’t dare use Ken’s flashlight so close to the hole. ”

“ Ken and Sandy were alone in the office that noon. Pop and Bert had carried Richard Holt off to their weekly lunch club meeting.
“Don’t cook up any more mysteries,” Bert had warned as he left.
“Mysteries!” Sandy made a face at his brother’s disappearing back. “Every time we ask a simple question we’re accused of stirring up trouble.”
Ken slipped a sheet of paper into his typewriter and twirled the roller. “We don’t do badly,” he said, smiling. “Maybe they’ve got some reason to suspect us.” ”

“ Approaching from windward, the helicopter continued to lose altitude as it swung in a circling maneuver until it was directly over the barge. Then it began to descend in a straight line like an elevator in an invisible shaft. When the machine was a scant thirty feet above their heads a door in the underbelly opened and something fell seaward to land on the pile of stone a few feet from where they stood.
“It’s a ladder!” Ken shouted. “A rope ladder! Come on!”
The ladder was swinging back and forth in the wind. Sandy made a grab for it and caught at the twisting rope. ”

“ Sandy braced himself as the barge twisted in a corkscrew dive. Then he closed his teeth around the knob of the next cupboard and pulled that one open. A row of cups hanging on hooks swayed violently with the movement of the barge, and small piles of plates and saucers would have flown into the room except for the guard rails that held them in place. Sandy’s glance fell on a flat traylike box on the upper shelf, above the level of his eye.
Ken saw it too. “That’s it!” he said excitedly. “It’s just like the box Mom keeps knives and forks in—in a drawer in the kitchen table. Can you get it down?” ”

“ It never occurred to me that you’re far more likely to get yourself into trouble when I’m at home.”
“Oh, Dad!” Ken protested. “We don’t make a habit of this—honest! No matter what Bert says, we don’t go around looking for trouble. But I just had a hunch....”
He let his voice trail away when he saw the twinkle in Richard Holt’s eye.
“Of course not,” his father said. “You don’t make a habit of it. Things just happen to you.” He leaned back in his chair. “Tell me, Sandy and Ken, do you suppose there’s any way you could prevent things from happening?” ”

“ Ken’s hand moved swiftly then. His fingers found the switch and the hall light snapped on. Ken took the two descending steps to the turn in a single quiet leap. But before he could start down the rest of the flight he heard another click from downstairs, and felt another surge of cold air around his feet. A third mysterious click sounded just as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
Ken snapped on all three switches on the wall of the lower hallway. The hallway itself, the living room, and the sun porch all became brightly illuminated. ”

“ The wind sighed gustily along the cabin walls, but otherwise the little room was silent for a long moment.
“Where do you suppose these barges go?” Ken asked finally.
“Who knows?” Sandy, too, managed to conceal the panic in his voice. “Up the East River to Long Island Sound—across the bay to Staten Island—”
Ken’s heart jumped. Maybe Cal was lying after all. “Not out to sea?” he asked. To drown them in the open sea might be comparatively safe. But if the barges stayed as close inshore as Sandy had suggested, drowning would be too risky. A body would wash ashore. ”

“ Ken brought out the cardboard box of wrappings he had found in a closet. “Want me to bring the packages down from your room, Dad?” he asked, with a great show of innocence.
“Not on your life,” his father told him. “You can just wait until tomorrow night to see what’s in them.” He started for the stairs himself.
“I’ll give you a hand,” Bert offered, when Richard Holt had returned with the packages.
“Don’t let him,” Sandy advised. “It’s a trick. He just wants to poke around.” ”

“ The barge was growing more sluggish with each passing wave. Her portside was noticeably down—it was becoming even more difficult to maintain a footing on the slippery, sharply sloping deck.
Ken hung on to the pump handle as water washed over the side. “How long?” he asked through clenched teeth.
Cal sputtered and coughed as the water receded. He pointed a shaking finger to the cargo. “She’s shifting!” he gasped. “We’ll turn over!” Panic drove him to the bulwark. He poised there ready to jump.
Sandy grabbed him and pulled him back. “Don’t be a fool! You wouldn’t last out there a minute.” ”

“ Sandy’s scrawl read. “Is the Tobacco Mart an innocent place of business—or is it not? And if it is why did Watch Crystal behave so mysteriously?”
Ken shrugged his shoulders as a signal that he had no answers to Sandy’s questions. They were the same questions he had been asking himself. He tilted his head in a gesture toward the street that asked, “Do you want to leave? Shall we give this up?”
Sandy grinned and shook his head slightly. “Why?” he scribbled on the envelope. “Always like to catch up on my reading during vacation. And I’m not hungry yet.” ”

“ Ken asked. “Cigarette?”
James shrugged. “Probably. Or a still-burning match. People are so danged careless. Wonder it doesn’t happen oftener, the way they toss stuff around.”
Sandy, bending over the wastebasket, sniffed curiously. “Smell this thing, Chief,” he said. “Maybe it’s my imagination.”
“What are you imagining?” But James bent over the basket and took a deep breath. Then he looked up with the same puzzlement that Sandy showed.
“All right, masterminds,” Ken said. “What gives?”
“Film,” Sandy said. “Or at least that’s what it smells like. But why would there be film in Sam’s basket?” ”

“ Granger sent a man down to look the place over—very kind of him, of course, as he was careful to remind me. But nothing was disturbed—clothes, portable radio, typewriter, all safe and sound. No signs of illegal entry, so apparently the fault was mine.”
He grinned again. “Granger wouldn’t even have called me about it, except that it gave him a chance to explain that Global always has the best interests of their employees at heart.”
The others grinned back at him, all but Ken and Sandy who looked soberly at each other over the table. The same thought was in both their minds. ”

“ Ken said. “Of course, if we hung around the Tobacco Mart again tonight—after we’d convinced our friend out there that we’d gone meekly off to Brentwood—we might find something interesting.”
Sandy’s glare cut him off. “That is the kind of suggestion,” he said loftily, “that has, in the past, landed us in some unpleasant situations.”
Ken grinned. “That’s right. And also, quite often, into some pretty exciting yarns. For which we have earned a reputation. Not to mention,” he added, “sizable checks.”
“Money is not everything,” Sandy informed him. “And reputation is not everything, either.” ”

“ But finally one of them said, “Hi, Sandy. What is it today? Film or flash bulbs?”
“Neither,” Sandy told him. “Just some information. Did you sell a roll of thirty-five millimeter this morning?”
The clerk’s eyebrows rose. “Are you crazy? I must have sold at least fifty. In case you don’t know it, chum, tomorrow is Christmas and quite a few people seem to want to take pictures that day.”
“I know,” Sandy said, “but—”
“Wait,” Ken interrupted. “Let’s put it this way. Did you sell any to a man who either didn’t seem to know anything about film, or who didn’t care what kind he bought?” ”

“ The boys could only see his back, but even the thick folds of his neck seemed to wrinkle with pleasure as he dunked the doughnut in the coffee and carried the dripping object to his mouth.
“Let’s get out of here,” Sandy muttered. “This is killing me.”
“Wait a minute.” Ken craned his neck, trying for a new angle of vision through the narrow slit. Finally he spotted what he had been looking for. The package the man had brought from the cigar store lay, still unopened, on one of the bunks against the port bulkhead. ”

“ Cal staggered to his feet, grabbed a suit of oilskins and a pair of rubber boots out of a cupboard, flung them on, and dashed out of the cabin.
“Good,” Sandy said. “He’s going to be busy for a while. Now we can get busy ourselves. I’ve been thinking.”
“Yes?” Ken wished he could see Sandy’s face.
But before Sandy could answer, Cal came into the room again. A sheet of spray came with him, to hiss and steam where it struck the hot stove.
Cal shoved the door shut and leaned against it for a moment, panting, before he crossed the room to take a kerosene lantern from a shelf. ”

“ Lausch referred to his notes once more. “Could such a box be duplicated, you wanted to know. Sintelli doesn’t know why any craftsman would attempt it. As I said, the boxes themselves are readily available and inexpensive. And, besides, their only charm lies in the fact that, being handmade, no two were exactly alike. An exact duplication would seem pointless. And a modern craftsman would probably charge more to make such a thing than you would pay for an original box.”
“But it could be duplicated—if there was any reason for doing such a thing?”
Ken knew that Sandy’s persistence was deliberate. ”

“ Sandy beamed. “Swell. That sounds like spaghetti. How long have we got to work up an appetite?”
“Until six thirty.”
“I could do it in half that time,” Sandy said.
Ken ignored him. He was leafing through the New York telephone book. “Barnes ... Barotti ... and here’s a Barrack, Charles. But no Amos Barrack. Guess our friend with the broken watch crystal doesn’t have a telephone.”
“Maybe it’s unlisted—like your dad’s,” Sandy suggested. “I tell you what. Call information and ask her if there’s any phone at all at his address. If it’s an apartment house there might be one in the lobby.” ”

“ And then, as if satisfied, the man hurried through the black-painted door of the wholesale tobacco shop.
Ken took a deep breath. “Well,” he said, “you sure outsmarted him! And I was ready to give up when he disappeared back there at Grand Central Station. Do you think he spotted us—that that’s why he was going through all those evasion tactics?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he has reasons of his own for thinking that he’s always in danger of being tailed. We can’t even guess about what’s going on here. We don’t know enough. ”

“ Ken grinned. “Sandy says we’re not. But I’m wondering if you could tell us anything about this box?” He unwrapped it and put it on Lausch’s desk.
The round-faced little man bent forward to look at it. “Just what did you want to know?” he asked. “This is not in my line, you understand—even though it does look Italian to me. But Italian paintings are a big enough field for one man. I am an amateur in all other aspects of Italian art.”
“We’d like to know if it’s really an antique,” Ken explained, “and if it’s valuable. ”

“ He has some vague idea that film is inflammable, and dashes into the nearest drugstore to get some. He slips into the crowd at Sam’s, drops it into the wastebasket, along with a lit match, and then—”
Sandy, openly grinning now, picked it up. “And then sees his whole villainous dream go up in a tiny cloud of smoke.”
“Right,” Ken said again, more firmly than ever. “Because, for one thing, the fire only lasts a second. And, for another, that man waiting for his watch crystal is standing right in front of the window, unconsciously protecting the box on the shelf inside. ”

“ Grace ordered. “They won’t be able to overhear us from down there. And they won’t,” he added with a faint smile, “be overheard themselves if they decided to do a little yelling. The buildings on both sides of us are empty until eight o’clock in the morning—and there’s a heavy stone wall on the street side.”
He opened a door in the side wall as he spoke, and gestured to Barrack to lead the way down a flight of stairs visible below. Barrack lighted the way with a flashlight.
Ken and Sandy were prodded after him down the rough uneven stairs into a damp, dank-smelling basement. ”

“ We sit in utter darkness—in the living room, say, where we couldn’t possibly be seen by anybody entering either door. And when somebody comes in—if somebody comes in—” His involved sentence broke off in a vast yawn.
Ken yawned too. “He finds us,” he said, when he could speak, “fast asleep. He takes the box. He departs.” He sat up and shook himself. “That is not my idea of a booby trap.”
The timer bell rang just then, and for the next several minutes they were busy. The activity roused them a little, but before the films were hanging from their drying clips both Ken and Sandy had yawned again. ”