§ § § - September 7, 1981

"Okay, who left the bread bag open and all these toast crumbs on the counter?" Delphine exclaimed in annoyance the following morning. "That was a brand-new loaf of bread, and I'd swear it's half gone."

Greg wandered in, yawning. "Must have been Julie. Guess she's got a mean midnight appetite."

"Probably a nasty habit she developed in college," Delphine agreed, frowning. "Honestly, that kid..."

Julie appeared in the doorway from the living room at precisely that moment. "You rang?" she said in irritation. "I heard you say 'kid', so obviously you were referring to me."

"Good morning to you too," said Greg pleasantly.

Before Julie could reply, Delphine broke in, "Did you eat all this bread? Or toast, or whatever? Look at this mess you made. I'm not cleaning this up."

"What toast? I never woke up once last night," Julie said. "I was knocked out from that long flight."

"Hey, you don't have to pretend you didn't do it, Jules," Greg said. "Anyone can get the munchies in the middle of the night."

"I'm not pretending," Julie said stiffly. "I just said I never woke up last night. You shouldn't be blaming me for your nocturnal eating habits."

"Okay, sure, Julie," Delphine murmured skeptically.

"I wouldn't expect you to believe me anyway. Hey...wait a minute. Maybe the person who ate the toast is the same person who left the footprints all over the stairs! You think so?"

"Oh, geez. You and your stupid footprints," Delphine groaned. "The only footprints I ever saw were my own."

"Then you must be the one who ate the toast," Greg said, chuckling. "Geez, you guys are making a federal case out of this."

"Julie's the one trying to turn this whole weekend into a cheap mystery novel," Delphine remarked. "Do you want us to think the house is haunted or something?"

Greg laughed. "First I ever heard of a ghost that ate bread, or toast, or whatever."

"Well, somebody ate that toast, and it wasn't me," Julie announced firmly. "I'm getting dressed and going out job-hunting. I'm sure you won't miss me." She hurried upstairs to change her clothes. Despite her sister's warnings, she intended to drop in on their godfather for at least a few minutes, just to see if he had any ideas beyond checking the newspaper.

As she was changing in her old room, she heard a thump from somewhere nearby. Pausing, Julie listened carefully, heart pounding in mingled fear and excitement. There had to be someone in this house besides herself, Greg and Delphine, although she wasn't quite willing to dismiss Greg's ghost idea. After all, Roarke had dealt with a ghost or two in his time.

Another, louder thump sounded, finally startling Julie into action. She dashed downstairs to the telephone table in the hallway, checked to be sure there was a dial tone, then yanked open a drawer and found a little hardcover book in which her parents had kept addresses and phone numbers. She made enough noise that Delphine came out of the kitchen with a whisk and bowl in her arm. "Julie, what're you doing?"

"I'm calling uncle," Julie said with determination. "There's someone upstairs. I heard noises."

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Delphine burst out. "It's not bad enough you have to drive me and Greg crazy with your silly ideas, now you're bothering uncle with them too! You always did have an overactive imagination, Julie. Makes up for your lack of magical powers. Why don't you just forget it and leave uncle alone? He's way too busy to be bothered with your paranoia."

"Will you stop patronizing me?" Julie shouted, finally losing the last of her patience. Delphine, startled, stepped back a pace or two. "I'm 21, Delphine, I'm not a little kid anymore! If you can't treat me like an adult, then I'd rather you just didn't talk to me at all!" With that she turned her back on her astonished sister and quickly dialed the number for the main house.

"Yes," said a businesslike voice.

"Hi, uncle, it's Julie. Has anybody on the island gone missing in the last few days?"

"Hm? No, not on the island, although we are in fact looking for a passenger from the plane yesterday. Why do you ask?"

"Well, weird things have been happening here," Julie said and told him about the footprints, the toast and the noises. "I think someone came into this house before we did, and I also think that person's still here!"

"It's certainly worth looking into," Roarke agreed. "Very well, I'll send Tattoo and Leslie over."

Relieved, Julie thanked him and hung up, then headed for the stairs to go and finish dressing. From behind her she heard Delphine say, "I still think it's all in your head," but Julie ignored her.

About ten minutes later there was a quick rapping on the back door; Julie, who had come down for some of the pancakes Delphine had made, got up from her nearly-cleared plate and admitted Leslie and Tattoo. "Good morning, ladies, Mr. Randolph," Tattoo said cheerfully.

Greg nodded, his mouth full, and Delphine said from the sink, "Hi, Tattoo." She had ended up cleaning the mess she'd claimed Julie had made in spite of herself.

"So where's the intruder?" Tattoo asked with interest.

"Upstairs, just follow me," said Julie. Leslie shot a shy smile in Delphine's and then Greg's directions, and trailed Julie and Tattoo in silence, gazing at her surroundings along the way.

"I think it's the bedroom next to mine," Julie said as they climbed the stairs. "I know there's a lot of them now, but can you see the prints off to the right, that go up and don't come down?"

"No," Tattoo said candidly. "Are you sure there were footprints there?"

"Not you too," Julie complained. "Uncle believed me when I told him. We found the prints...well, I did, actually. Neither Delphine nor Greg would believe me. But you can't ignore it when you know everyone else in the house is in the kitchen but you hear banging noises from the room next door." They stopped in front of the bedroom next to Julie's, and she opened the door. They all stared, wide-eyed. The bed had been slept in; its covers were still rumpled. The closet door stood ajar, and on the desk under the window sat a plate covered with toast crumbs.

"Well, that explains what happened to all that bread," Julie said, focusing on the plate.

Leslie edged past her and Tattoo and paused warily in front of the closet door. There was only one way to find out if there was really a ghost, or something else, in there, and Leslie took a deep breath and flung the door fully open. Then she sucked in a sharp breath. "I...I think you might want to see this."

Tattoo and Julie immediately came up to look. Curled up asleep on the closet floor was a bedraggled girl with long light-colored hair; even in her sleep, she protectively clutched a fraying backpack.

Julie recovered first. "I'm getting Greg and Delphine. Serves 'em right for treating me like an overimaginative kindergartner. Just wait till they see this!" She rushed out of the room.

Leslie looked at Tattoo. "Should I wake her up?"

Tattoo nodded. "I think you'd better, before the others get up here. She'll probably be frightened enough as it is."

Leslie nodded and got down on her knees, reached over and gently shook the strange girl. "Hey, wake up," she urged.

The girl came to with a start; her eyes popped open and grew wide with fear at sight of Leslie. The two stared at each other, the stowaway clinging desperately to her backpack. "My name's Leslie," Leslie finally ventured. "What's yours?"

The girl eyed her, every muscle tense and her body trembling slightly, but said nothing. Leslie drew her lower lip between her teeth and tried again. "We just want to help. Nobody's going to hurt you or anything. This is Tattoo, by the way." She gestured at her companion.

"Won't you please come out?" Tattoo asked gently, essaying a smile. It usually worked on most females, but this one was clearly unimpressed, even though he meant only to put her at ease.

Finally she spoke: "Är det sant att ingen kommer att skada mig?" Tattoo and Leslie peered at her, then at each other. Tattoo looked bewildered, but Leslie's expression was that of one struggling to remember.

"Did you get that?" Tattoo asked.

"I...it sounded like..." Abruptly Leslie's face cleared. "That's Swedish! I don't know the language, but I can recognize it. Gosh, it sure brings back memories." Face alight with hope, she turned back to the girl. "Are you from Sweden?" It was at that moment that Tattoo heard several sets of feet clumping up the stairs and went out to hold back Julie, Delphine and Greg, so as not to scare the newcomer any further.

The girl nodded warily. "Ja, jag kommer ifrån Sverige."

Leslie understood the nod at least, if nothing else. "My grandmother was from Sweden, and I remember she used to speak Swedish sometimes. Can you speak any English?"

The girl gazed at her for a long moment, then drew in a deep breath and said slowly, "Yes, I can speak English...but now that I am found, what will you do? I know I am on this island without permission. Will you put me in jail?"

"Oh no, honest we won't! We just want to find out how and why you came here, and to see if we can help you. Mr. Roarke's my guardian and he took me in when I had no one else. He's the nicest, kindest person in the world, and he'd never treat you like a criminal. He'll listen to your story before he does anything else."

The girl blinked. "Then you live with Mr. Roarke! Everyone all over the world knows him. Yes, then I will come with you." Leslie backed up a few paces, and the Swedish girl came out of the closet and stood up. Her long golden hair shone gently in the light.

"What's your name?" Leslie prompted again, noting Tattoo and the others crowded in the doorway.

The Swedish girl cleared her throat. "I am called Frida Olsson," she said.

"Is that the name that was on your copy of the passenger manifest, Leslie?" Tattoo asked.

Leslie nodded. "Yup, that's the one. Glad to meet you, Frida, my name's Leslie Hamilton. Come on, Tattoo and I'll take you back to the main house."

Delphine's face was a study in disbelief. "My God. Who'd have thought my crazy little sister was right after all. Can you imagine that, Greg?"

Greg chuckled and remarked to Frida, "So you're our ghost. I hope the toast was good."

Frida turned bright red and said almost inaudibly, "I am very sorry to be here wrongly. Please forgive me." Delphine's expression grew quite stern, and it was clear she was about to rebuke Frida.

Julie rolled her eyes and, for good measure, slapped a hand over her sister's open mouth. "Shut up, you two, can't you? Don't pay any attention to them, Frida. As far as I'm concerned, you're forgiven and no harm's been done."

Not till Tattoo, Leslie and Frida had left did Julie finally let Delphine go, and Delphine lost no time in rounding on her. "What was that all about? Were you afraid I was going to look like a fool just because that girl deserved a scolding, at the very least?"

"No," Julie replied too sweetly, "you already did look like a fool. I just didn't want you doing the same thing to me with that big bossy mouth of yours." Greg laughed outright, despite the disgusted glare Delphine favored him with, and Julie seized her purse and made her escape while the going was good. She hoped her godfather wouldn't be too hard on Frida; it looked as if the poor girl had nowhere else to go.