The 100-Year-Old Secret Read Free Page B

open. They stood back and stared at it.
    â€œWell, that could explain the fake dust,” Xena said. “Somebody must do something with this box that knocks the dust off it and they don'twant it to stand out for some reason. The fake dust makes it blend in with the others.”
    They stepped closer and peered inside. They couldn't see much from that angle. Somebody would clearly have to crawl into it. “Go on,” Xander said, gesturing at the opening.
    â€œNo, you go,” Xena said, although she really would have liked to explore it. “You're smaller. I'd hardly fit.”
    Xander took a breath and crawled in. Almost instantly he bumped his head. “Ow!”
    â€œWay to go, cowboy,” Xena said. “Try not to knock yourself out in there.”
    â€œOh, shut up,” he muttered. He looked around. “There's nothing in here,” he said. “Just the back of the box.” He stopped. His eyes were adjusting to the semidarkness and now he could see that what he had bumped his head on wasn't the end of the box, but a wall. And it wasn't a plain surface. On it were four knobs, with lines radiating out from their centers. The holes on the top of the box that had looked like random damage were actually cleverly placed to allow light to fall on the knobs.
    â€œWhoa,” he said softly.
    â€œWhat?”
    Xander didn't answer. He reached out a hand.
    The knobs looked exactly like the dials on a combination lock. The first three had numbers, and the fourth had letters of the alphabet instead. He rotated one, and it twirled jerkily.
    â€œXander, what is it?”
    â€œIt's knobs, like on a safe,” he said. “Wait a sec. I think I might be able to come up with the combination.”
    He concentrated. Baker Street Irregulars. Sherlock Holmes had lived on Baker Street, at the most famous address in London, someone had once said. He relaxed, knowing that if he opened his mind, the exact address would come to him. Three numbers and a letter. Three numbers and a . . .
    Yes, there it was. Flashing in front of his eyelids: 221B Baker Street.
    It was just like the knobs. Three numbered knobs, and then a lettered one. Xander set the first two dials on 2. The third dial was already on 1, and as he twirled the fourth one, he felt a deep certainty. The dial stuck a little on its way to B. Then it lined up with a satisfying click.
    Xander hesitated, nervous about what he'd find on the other side of the door. But there was no turning back now.
    He pushed on the wall—and the small slabof cement moved. He blinked in the bright light that hit his face, blinding him momentarily.
    â€œWhat's that light?” Xena's voice was eager. “It's a door!” Xander's voice was hoarse with excitement. “A door, Xena! We can get out of here!”
    Xena was so relieved that her knees suddenly felt weak. “Oh, hooray! Where does it go? Back to the pub?”
    But Xander couldn't answer, because he wasn't sure what he was looking at.

C HAPTER 4

    X ena couldn't stand it anymore. She dropped to her knees and squeezed herself into the box. She poked her head through the opening just as Xander disappeared in front of her.
    A burst of laughter greeted her. Startled, she looked up.
    She didn't know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn't three pairs of legs, one in jeans, one in a man's long pants, and the third in pantyhose and small flat shoes. “Who—” she started to say when a hand reached down and helped her crawl out. She stood up next to her brother, and they both stared around the room.
    It seemed like an ordinary living room, with comfortable-looking chairs and couches, a few lamps, and a bookshelf. A colorful rug covered the floor, and weak afternoon sunlight was coming in through two broad windows.
    Now that Xena and her brother were uprightthey could see the people to whom the legs belonged. There was an elderly lady with a sweet-looking, wrinkled face,