The 100-Year-Old Secret Read Free Page A

empty.” She dropped to her knees and pried it open. They both looked inside.
    â€œIt is empty,” Xander said.
    â€œI guess they already took the dishes out,” Xena said.
    â€œBut why would they leave the empty box taped shut in here?” Xander said. He noticed a large carton, about waist high, marked BAKERS—IRREGULAR . It was against a wall next to another one that read LINEN—SECONDS . He gave thelinens box a shove, and it slid easily across the floor.
    â€œYou know, those first two boxes broke when I tried to stand on them,” he said. “They must have been empty too. But all these empty boxes are taped and piled up, as if someone's going to use them. I wonder why.”
    â€œIt's like they're props in a play or something,” Xena said slowly, “or else someone wants this to look like a storeroom, but it isn't.” So what was it?
    And something was different about the box labeled BAKERS—IRREGULAR , but what? It was dented and dusty and there were holes on the top, though most of the other boxes weren't in great shape either, so that wasn't it. Xander ran his hand along the top of the box, and then realized something. “Xena,” he said.
    â€œHmmm?” Xena replied. She was staring up at the window, trying to figure out a way to break through the bars. She knew she was strong, but not that strong.
    â€œLook at this.” He pointed to the top of the weird box. “This dust. It isn't real.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, the dust isn't real? How can it be fake dust?”
    â€œI don't know,” Xander said. “But I think it'sglued on, or painted on. It doesn't come off.” He swept his hand over the top of the carton again. “See? No dust. And no sneeze.”
    Xena got up and crossed to the box. “Now, that's weird,” she said. “Why would someone want to make something look dusty?”
    Xander tapped on the box. Something about the phrase Bakers—Irregular seemed familiar, but when he tried to remember where he had seen—or heard—the words before, it slipped away from him. He closed his eyes in concentration, shutting out all sound except his own breathing.
    Xena knew better than to interrupt him when he was thinking, but she was getting more and more anxious. If this had all been a mistake, the waitress would have come back by now. What was going on? Who wanted them locked up in here? And how would they get out?
    â€œGot it!” Xander's voice broke in on her thoughts. “The Baker Street Irregulars!”
    Xena shook her head in bewilderment.
    â€œIn my Sherlock Holmes book,” he added.
    â€œI never read it, remember?” Xena said. “So what did it say?”
    â€œWell, there were these kids. Sherlock Holmes hired them to be like a detective squad for him. Sherlock lived on Baker Street, so hecalled them the Baker Street Irregulars. This could be a clue.”
    â€œA clue to what?” she asked as her brother tapped on the box some more. She was just about to tell him to quit it when she realized that Xander's finger-thumping sounded odd. “Hey,” she said. “Do that again.”
    â€œDo what?”
    â€œThis.” She reached over and thumped the box with her own fingers and their eyes met. “It's not cardboard like the rest. It sounds sturdier, like wood.” She kicked it, and then said, “Ow!” It hadn't budged.
    â€œIt's full of something heavy.” Xander gave it a shove. “ Really heavy. Or it's attached to the floor.”
    Xena ran her fingertips over the edges, feeling for tape that she could peel off to open the box, and stopped on a corner. “What's this?” she asked.
    Xander elbowed her aside. “It's a hinge!” He felt farther down the edge. “And here's another one!” He worked his fingers into the edge opposite the hinges and pulled. For an agonizing second nothing happened. Then the front of the box popped