Suddenly Martin let out a yell as his toe hit something hard hidden in the sand at the water’s edge. A moment later Bill and Harley were helping Martin dig out a large wooden case. It was heavy, well built, tightly sealed, and had foreign words written on it. “Maybe it’s a pirate treasure chest,” said Martin, who was almost eight and had just read _Treasure Island_ for the first time the week before. “You’re crazy,” said Harley, who, nearly ten, was much older and wiser. Bill, going on twelve, thought aloud, “It must be something worthwhile; maybe we can sell it and buy those model rockets we wanted.” The three boys soon found that they couldn’t open the box and that it was too heavy to drag along the sand easily. “Martin,” said Bill, “get Dad while Harley and I stand guard.” Two hours later the box was at their house and everyone in the family was trying to read what was written on it. About all that was readable was a large “U” followed by what appeared to be two numbers. Some of the other marks looked like old German script and there was a date, 1945. “You know,” said Bill, “I bet that came from a World War II German submarine that our Coast Guard or Navy sank.” “Let’s open it up!” said Harley as Martin ran to get the screwdrivers. Inside they found a thoroughly waxed carton that they had to cut open. Everyone held their breath as their father lifted the top. “Nothing but a bunch of pictures,” said Martin who was still hoping for pirate treasure. “Paintings can be worth a lot of money,” said Dad, “thousands or even millions of dollars.” “Well then we’re rich!” yelled Harley and Bill together. “Not so fast,” said Dad. “First of all, we don’t know if the paintings are really valuable. Also, it looks like these might be part of the art treasures that the Nazis stole from the countries they conquered in World War II. Maybe someone was trying to get them by submarine to a neutral country, like Argentina, just before the end of the war, and the sub was sunk. If they are real and stolen, they’ll have to go back to their rightful owners. But cheer up, maybe there’s a reward.” “How do we collect it?” asked Bill. “If the Nazis grabbed them, aren’t they real for sure?” “Not necessarily,” Dad continued. “The Nazis were fooled sometimes by people who sold them fakes. There was one painting that Hitler’s sidekick, Göring, bought that was supposed to be a 17th century painting by Vermeer, a Dutch painter. Because Vermeer’s work is so valuable, it’s usually impossible to buy one for any amount of money.