“Must handle this with great care,” Sandy said a little later as the boys let themselves into the Holt apartment. He deposited Mom’s jewel box on a table and patted it gently. “Valuable antique—very valuable. Worth almost a dime a dozen. Unless, of course,” he added, c*****g his head on one side and studying the box intently, “it is instead an ingenious copy of a valuable antique, made by some nefarious criminal.”
“Go right ahead. 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 th
