IT WAS A PLEASANT SUNDAY AFTERNOON, TWO DAYS after Vicki’s hair-raising experience with Steve Miller’s airplane. Vicki, Mr. Curtin, Nina, Louise, John Quayle, and Joey Watson were sitting on the Curtins’ broad patio sipping cool fruit drinks and relaxing. A gentle breeze blew through the flowers and trees that surrounded the big brick house, and Vicki could feel its gentle fingers patting her on the cheek.
“So if it hadn’t been for this young lady,” John Quayle was saying as he raised his glass and made a toast to Vicki, “I’m afraid all of us would still be in the dark about the theft of the gold coins, and the thieves would be well on their way to parts unknown. But now, thanks to her, all of the gang except Amos Tytell are safely behind bars. Since the old man was an unwilling accomplic
