As they walked away from the Advance office Sandy said, “If there’s any of the dressing left I could do with some of that too. And maybe even a piece of mince pie.”
Ken seemed too preoccupied to comment on the suggestion, and when he finally spoke, Sandy had driven the convertible halfway home. “There could be just one reason for anybody wanting that box badly enough to burglarize two houses and set a fire,” he declared. “It must be valuable.”
“Now, look,” Sandy protested, maneuvering the car carefully along the ruts of a snowy street. “We’ve been through this. Your father said the box wasn’t valuable. He ought to know. Besides, after last night—”
“Dad isn’t an expert on antiques,” Ken interrupted. “The only reason he thinks it isn’t valuable is because he apparently didn’t pay very much for it.”
“Well, apparently the man who sold it to your father didn’t think it was very valuable either, or he’d have asked more for it,” Sandy pointed out reasonably.
“Maybe he had his own reasons for selling it cheaply,” Ken said darkly. “Dad assumed it was part of the porter’s own household stuff—heirlooms, I suppose—that he was selling off because he was broke. But suppose Dad was fooled? Suppose the box was stolen and offered to Dad inexpensively, just so he’d buy it and bring it through American customs. Then the idea would be to steal it from him, once it was here, and sell it for its real value.”
“But it hasn’t been stolen,” Sandy reminded him. “Nobody tried to get it last night. Besides, there’s a hole in your argument big enough to drive a truck through. If a valuable box had been stolen, the customs authorities would have been alerted to watch for it. And no matter how well they know your father by now, they’d have shown at least a little curiosity when he turned up with something they’d been warned to watch out for. In fact, they’d probably have landed on him like a ton of bricks.”
“Well, maybe it isn’t that valuable,” Ken admitted. “Maybe it’s not the sort of thing that would arouse an international hunt.”
Sandy laughed. “I see. It’s only valuable enough to cause two burglaries and an attempted arson. You’re just not making sense, Ken.”
Sandy had driven the car into the Allen garage, but he made no effort toward getting out. “I’m not going into the house with you while you’re still on this subject,” he announced. “I’ve stood all the ribbing I want to take for one day. Well? Are you convinced?”