The brightly lighted room gave Sandy all the opportunity he needed to make further use of his new camera.
“I can’t wait to finish up this first roll,” he explained, taking one picture after another. “As soon as it’s done I’m going right down to the office and develop it. Hold it, Bert. Just one more. There, that does it.”
“Guess I’ll go along,” Ken said. “Want to come, Dad?”
“I do not,” Holt said. “Holding this dish towel is all the activity I can manage after so much excitement. Besides, I’m husbanding my strength for tomorrow’s turkey.”
The boys, having decided to walk the few short blocks to the Advance office, put on their heavy lumberjackets. But when they went through the front door Ken turned back toward the rear of the house.
“Hey,” Sandy said, “I thought we were going to leave the car.”
“We are. I just want to check something.” Ken followed the walk they had cleared that morning, until he was standing outside the kitchen windows. “I just want to see how much of the room is visible from out here,” he said quietly. “Hmm. Practically all of it, except the corner where the door leads into the hall.”
“So what?” Sandy demanded.
“So now we know that if somebody was standing out here last night,” Ken answered, leading the way back toward the front sidewalk, “he could have seen us put the iron box in the shoe box, and leave it there on the sideboard.”
Neither of them spoke for the distance of a block. Their feet were crunching on the snow at a cross street when Sandy said, “Well, so long as you don’t quote me, I’ll admit that business at Schooley’s this afternoon has me a little worried. I still don’t see exactly why you’re fastening on the box as somebody’s special target, but it does all sound slightly fishy. I don’t think we’d get any sympathy if we talked about it at the house, though—especially now that your father’s here, to help Pop and Bert out with their usual ribbing.”