§ § § -- April 30, 1984

They stood in their usual places at the plane dock on Monday morning, seeing their guests off, and watched as the first car pulled up and Andrew Doren climbed out. "So...did you meet Nero, as you hoped?" Lawrence inquired.

"Yeah, but it took some fancy talking," Doren admitted with a grin. "I guess I confused them enough that they decided to turn me over to the big man himself and let him figure out what to do with me." They all laughed. "It was a great fantasy, Mr. Roarke, and I appreciate your patience with me when I almost chickened out at the last minute. I'm glad I went through with it. Heck, I even taught Nero how to play 'The Waltzing Matilda.' He was still at it when you came around and told me my fantasy was over. I don't think he even noticed me leave."

"I'm glad you were pleased," Roarke said. "Have a safe and pleasant trip home."

"Thanks, I will," Doren said. "And from now on I'll be grateful for certain modern-day conventions. Togas are drafty!" His hosts' laughter followed him as he crossed the clearing to the dock, turning and waving at them once with a broad grin before heading to the waiting seaplane.

Then Lawrence seemed to remember something and caught himself, turning to Roarke with an expression of pure disbelief. "'The Waltzing Matilda'?"

"So he's the one we can blame for that stupid myth," Leslie kidded, and they all laughed again as a second car pulled up bearing Janine Andrulaitis. She got out and faced her hosts with a faintly wry smile, clutching her manuscript in the crook of her left arm.

"I have to tell you, this weekend made me think twice about wanting a bestseller, at least a couple of times," she confessed. "I wonder just how often authors have to go through that kind of stuff."

"I'd say not terribly so, madam," Lawrence offered. "After all, when such a thing does happen, it always makes headlines. And you rarely hear of bestselling authors being accused of plagiarism; it seems to happen mostly in the film industry."

"Indeed," Roarke said with a smile. "Perhaps you should look at it this way, Miss Andrulaitis. You helped us to bring to justice a criminal team who had already gotten away with their scam on a number of occasions before you arrived here."

"Not without a lot of help," Janine said, and smiled at Leslie. "I think you really did it all. I promise to send you the first autographed copy of whatever book of mine finally gets published."

"Then you owe her that autographed copy right now," Roarke informed her, dark eyes twinkling. At Janine's stunned look, he explained, "The chief editor at the publishing house that originally released your book found a copy of the manuscript for Road to Kingdom Come in the files of the editor who was in cahoots with Henry Charles March, and called late last evening to notify me that he wishes to publish it. I took the liberty of giving him the means by which to contact you once you have returned to Minnesota; so you should expect to receive a phone call from him after you arrive home."

"And he'll publish it exactly as you wrote it," Leslie added with a grin.

Janine laughed. "Then I guess I have nothing to worry about, do I? Mr. Roarke, Leslie, I can't thank you enough for what you've done for me. I'll never forget this weekend, and your book will be on the way to you just as soon as I get my complimentary copies." She reached over and grasped Leslie's hand, squeezing it. "Thank you all again, and goodbye."

They watched her cross the clearing to the dock, returned her wave, and relaxed a bit. "So when is this Adam O'Cearlach supposed to be here again?" Leslie asked.

"In another two days," Lawrence said. He looked apologetically at Roarke. "I had to send him one of the passes for the plane. I hope you don't mind, sir."

Roarke peered at him curiously. "Well, how else could he be expected to step foot onto Fantasy Island if not with a pass for the plane?" he asked rhetorically. "Although, since you've already provided any number of your friends with passes simply for the asking, perhaps I should put Leslie in charge of them." Access to Fantasy Island was carefully controlled; all arriving guests were required to hand over a small green pass to the attendant before boarding the charter plane at Honolulu International Airport. The only way to get such a pass was to request one from Roarke, who kept them all at the main house. As for water traffic, the only regular boat was a ferry between Fantasy Island and its nearest neighbor, Coral Island. Anyone taking the ferry had to have a pass in order to return to Fantasy Island. Since Coral Island's students attended school on Fantasy Island, they carried special blue passes back and forth to school, which were turned back in to the schools' principals if the student in question moved away.

Lawrence had the grace to look somewhat abashed. "I simply felt that they could take their holidays in no better place than Fantasy Island, sir."

Roarke and Leslie looked at each other and shook their heads. "He really has a way of neatly extricating himself from all sorts of trouble with just a couple of sentences, doesn't he," Leslie remarked.

"Without question," Roarke concurred dryly, eyeing Lawrence.

Lawrence looked distinctly pleased, although he made some effort to be humble about it. "Ah, now, sir, miss, if you think I have a way with words, then wait till Adam arrives. He is the original silver-tongued devil."

"That could be something other than a compliment, you know," Leslie pointed out.

"Just wait and see," Lawrence replied mysteriously, and smiled in a way that irritated Leslie and apparently had something of the same effect on Roarke, judging from his faintly exasperated expression. In spite of herself, Leslie was looking forward to meeting Adam O'Cearlach, and found herself wondering if she would live to regret the feeling.

TO BE CONTINUED...