"It's down the block," said Ken. "I'll drive by, and you can get a good look tonight. Come on, Jack."
Jack went with him. The automobile was one of those low-slung, half-block-long affairs like one Jack vaguely remembered seeing pictured in a foreign car magazine.
"That's not yours," he said flatly. "Those things cost ten or fifteen thousand dollars."
"Cost me fifty," said Ken smugly. "I got it at our friend Edigo's store. Fifty bucks."
"You mean they carry things like that?"
"I took them a picture and they made it for me," said Ken. "Had to widen that door and put runways up the steps to drive it out of there. It cost me twice as much as the car to get the door widened and then bricked back the way it was. They worked on the inside and I got a crew to work on the outside."
"Seems to me they'd have had it out in the street for you, instead of building it in the basement and then having to get it out," said Jack critically, gazing up and down the gleaming length of black and chrome.
"Ha!" said Ken slyly. "That's just it, son. They couldn't. I've found out the secret of our friends in the bargain basement."
"Secret? You mean there is something phony about it?"
"I'll tell you while we're driving around in this dream wagon. But first let me show you something."