For a moment Ken didn’t answer. And then he said reluctantly, “Well, this will give you another laugh. But I’m going down to that building where we left Barrack this morning. I’m still curious about him.”
“I see,” Sandy said.
“Do you?” Ken smiled briefly. “Well, that’s more than I do. But somehow I—” He broke off and pulled a heavy sweater on over his shirt.
Sandy took off the jacket of his suit and began to unbutton his shirt.
It was Ken’s turn to ask a question. “What’re you changing your clothes for?”
Sandy looked surprised. “For the same reason you are. So we’ll look a little different from the way we did this morning—just to be on the safe side.”
“Don’t be a dope,” Ken told him. “You don’t have to come along. This is my hunch. And it’s my—” He stopped.
“‘And it’s my father.’ That’s what you were going to say. Weren’t you?” Sandy demanded. “You don’t like the idea of Barrack knowing his address, and I don’t either. Especially after that mysterious open door here the other night. I agree with you. It’s probably got nothing to do with the box. But don’t tell me it’s got nothing to do with me—if there’s any chance that somebody’s interested in making trouble for Richard Holt.”
For a moment neither of them spoke. Sandy busied himself getting dressed. But Ken knew that Sandy too was remembering the occasion when Richard Holt’s nose for news had brought him into serious danger, when he had learned more than was safe for him to know about certain criminal activities. Ken had no real reason to suspect that Barrack was a criminal, or that Barrack’s knowledge of his father’s address was actually incriminating evidence. But Ken also knew that he himself wouldn’t be satisfied until he learned a little more about the affable Mr. Barrack.
And Sandy’s reaction didn’t surprise him. Once Ken had let Sandy see that he was really worried, his red-headed friend would naturally insist upon standing by.