§ § § -- July 22, 1982

About ten minutes later the Mercedes was idling quietly in the circular drive in front of the Duncan chateau, which was already showing clear evidence of its abandonment. Stucco was flaking off the outside of the walls that surrounded it, and the iron gate was rusting in spots. The light from the car headlights picked out these imperfections fairly easily, though Leslie was sure there were plenty of other signs that the darkness hid. She glanced around at her friends and shrugged. "Showtime, I guess."

The seven girls piled out of the car and moved in an uneasy group toward the gate; at the same time, Albert, the chauffeur, popped out the front. "Miss Leslie," he called, "are you sure it's going to be safe? Perhaps I'd better come with you."

"Someone really ought to stay with the car, in case Simon comes around when we're all someplace else and tries to make off with it and strand us here," Leslie reasoned. "I think we'll be okay. There's enough of us that even if someone does get hurt, one of the others can go for help. I'd feel better knowing you're with the car."

"Very well, Miss Leslie," Albert agreed reluctantly and slid back inside the vehicle. The girls turned to stare at the walls, the gate, and the chateau within.

After a moment Camille went to examine the large rust spots that were eating at the iron bars of the entry gate. "Hmm. Think this might've gone through anything?" She began shaking bars experimentally.

"Not unless the padlock's rusted," Lauren said. "What about the trees?"

The penumbral glow from the headlights reflected faintly off glossy leaves, and Leslie pointed. "Over there, to the right. See them over that portico above the fountain? Come on, let's go." They trotted along the wall and around the corner, shutting them off completely from the lights and making them stop long enough to let their eyes adjust to what little light the stars gave off in the moonless night. In a minute or so they spied several tall trees growing along the wall in front of them and began to examine them for convenient branches that would allow climbing. Fortunately, the second tree proved to be perfect for their intentions, and they gathered around its base, staring up.

"Who's the best tree climber here?" asked Leslie. No one spoke, and she realized all of a sudden that she herself might be the best candidate. She could still remember sheltering in the tree in their Susanville front yard the night Michael Hamilton had set that fatal fire. "I guess that's me," she mumbled and sighed. "Myeko, boost me up?"

"I'll come up after you," Camille volunteered unexpectedly.

"Me too," Myeko said. "I used to climb a lot of trees…up till fourth grade at least, when I fell out of one and broke my arm."

"Wow, you're walking wounded," Maureen commented with a laugh. "First you take a header off a balance beam, then you break your arm falling out of a tree. Are you really sure you want to climb up there with Camille and Leslie?"

The girls laughed softly and Myeko giggled sheepishly. "Well, you might have a point there. But I think at least one more person besides Leslie and Camille should go—maybe two." She sighed. "I can be a sentinel at least. Geez, Maureen, your memory's too good. I told you guys that story about the balance beam a year and a half ago."

Maureen snickered. "Tell you what, why don't I go. You can wait here with Michiko and Lauren and Frida."

"I don't think so," Lauren said. "I'm going too. The three of you can stay."

Leslie grinned. "Four of us ought to be enough to cut Simon down to size. Frida, you and Michiko should take up a spot by the gate, in case Simon shows up there. Myeko, if you're not afraid of the dark, you could wait here by this tree so you can help us back down out of it whenever we come back, hopefully with Simon."

"No problem," said Myeko. "If I need help, I'll go get Michiko and Frida from the date. You ready?" She boosted Leslie to the first branch, and Leslie pulled herself onto it and into position to grab the second one, glad she'd worn jeans and a T-shirt. The third branch, a thick sturdy one, hung conveniently out over the wall just a few inches above the top, and she was standing atop the wall within a few minutes.

"I'm coming," Camille warned, and Leslie glanced down to see her being boosted onto the first branch. She turned and scanned the ground within the chateau; the wall was some eight feet high, and she didn't relish the drop down. And how were they going to get back up again? She scowled and thought for a moment, then had an idea.

"Before everybody gets up here," she called softly, crouching on the wall top, "could one of you go and ask Albert if there happens to be any rope in the trunk? We'll need some to get back over the wall, if Simon's rappelling equipment isn't hanging off this thing in some other area."

"I'll go," said Michiko and hurried off. Camille dropped to the top of the wall beside Leslie and peered down.

"I see what you mean," she said. "Cripes, no rocks or anything, huh? This is gonna be some rescue mission."

"I feel like a thief," Leslie admitted with a nervous sigh. "I've never been in there, but from the size of it, it's got enough rooms that we could take all night trying to find Simon. I wish I could figure out what his obsession is with this place."

"Probably looking for something Claude Duncan owned so he can filch it and try to sell it for big bucks somewhere," Camille offered.

"Or big quid, as the case may be," Leslie said with a sour little smile. "I can't say I'd put it past him, since he stole that key. How much of a chance do you think we have of breaking something when we drop off this wall?"

"Oh, at least fifty percent," said Camille and grinned. "Here comes Lauren."

Michiko returned with a coil of rope soon thereafter, just as Maureen finished climbing and stepped off onto the wall behind Lauren. "Can you reach this?" she asked.

Leslie laid out flat on the wall top and stretched her arm as far as she could, and Michiko managed to hand her the rope. Working together, Maureen and Leslie tied one end of the rope in as huge and complicated a knot as they could dream up to the tree branch, then let the rest fall to the ground inside the wall. Camille lowered herself to a seated position on the wall top, took a breath and grunted, "Geronimo." With that, she launched herself off the wall, landing in a heap some distance away and rolling with her momentum.

"You okay?" Lauren called down.

"Yup, the grass is nice and soft," Camille said. "Come on down."

One by one, each girl dropped to the grass, and all made it unhurt. From there it was a quick walk to the large double doors of the chateau, which to their surprise stood open to the night air. They looked at one another and shrugged, in almost exact unison, walking into the dark interior.

"Look for a light somewhere," Leslie whispered to Maureen, Lauren and Camille. "I can't imagine he'd come here without one, and since we don't have one, we might be able to sneak up on him."

"If we find him," Lauren agreed. "Okay, let's go."

The four girls prowled through about five rooms on the ground floor before stealing up the wide staircase near the entrance and peering carefully into several second-floor doorways. Then Leslie, in the lead, stopped and pointed down the hall, where they could see a faint glow spilling through an open door. The others nodded, and they crept noiselessly along till they were just short of the door in question. Carefully, Leslie eased her head around the jamb till she could see inside.

Well, well, well, she thought, so it looks like old Simon Says found something he liked after all. Simon crouched in the light from a powerful flashlight that stood on its end beside him, rummaging around in a large box. A dozen or so other such boxes surrounded him, some open and some still taped shut. She withdrew her head and nodded at her friends, and with that they all stepped into the room together.

"Surprise," said Leslie.

"YAAAAAGGGGHHH!!" howled Simon, whipping around in utter shock and knocking the flashlight over. "What the bloody hell is it with you? Do you have some damned ESP or something, that you always manage to trace me?"

"Maybe if you stayed out of trouble, there wouldn't be any problem," Leslie snapped, grabbing the flashlight and training it into the box Simon had been poking around in. "Just what's your thing about this place? You've been bugging me nearly all week about coming here, and now here you are looking for something to steal, from the looks of it."

"It's not stealing at all," Simon barked back, incensed. "The damned thing legitimately belongs to my family, and I know it's in this chateau."

"What thing?" Leslie demanded.

Simon shook his head. "Why should I tell you? It's nothing to do with you."

"It's plenty to do with me," Leslie contradicted him. "I have six friends and Albert with me, just so you know. I can easily send one or two of them to get Mr. Roarke, or the police, or both, and then you'd have to talk. So you might as well save yourself the extra effort and spill the beans now."

Simon growled and said grudgingly, "Fine, then, just shine that torch into the box so I can carry on looking. We have a history of associating with famous people. I'm distantly related to Jillian Kristen, one of the singers in the group Swedenstar."

"Who?" said Camille blankly. Her tastes ran to hard rock, Leslie recalled.

"I've heard of them," Leslie said, and Maureen and Lauren both nodded recognition. "So you're related to one of them. So what?"

"I'm also the great-grandson of Niles Cameron, the silent-film director," Simon said. "And he directed several films that starred Claude Duncan and Becky Lee. They were great friends, you see. My great-grandfather gave Claude Duncan a priceless treasure to keep safe during World War I, and he has had it ever since. It's time we got it back, and that's why I'm here—I'm looking for it so I can take it home when we leave."

"Why didn't you just tell Mr. Roarke?" Leslie demanded. "He could've made all the necessary arrangements to let you in here and see that you were able to find this…this thing, whatever it is. Instead you had to come sneaking in here in the dead of night and risk getting nabbed for trespassing."

"Well, that's water under the proverbial bridge, isn't it?" Simon retorted. "Mr. Roarke would have demanded proof that it belonged to us, and it would have taken the entire week to get the proper permissions, and by then it would have been too late. This way I have a chance of finding it. Or I did until you busybody girls showed up here. You've been a thorn in my side the entire week, Leslie Hamilton, and I have no doubt that another day with you under the same roof as I, and I shall assuredly go utterly mad."

"The feeling's mutual," Leslie informed him, driven beyond her endurance point. "All week long I've had to try to entertain you, put up with your ridiculous spoiled-brat demands, find some way to get you out of trouble before someone with authority discovered what you were up to, and deal with you stealing things that belong to other people. You think you can lord it over me because you're older than I am and richer than King Midas, but let me tell you something, buster. I'm sick of you and I'm sick of your attitude, and fed up to here with your insults and your sneering. There's no question in my mind, you're the worst guest I've ever seen since I came to live here. I can't wait till you're gone, you know that? I'll be overjoyed to see the last of you, Simon Cameron Lightwood-Wynton the fourth, alleged great-grandson of Niles Cameron and alleged distant relation to what's-her-name in that singing group. I hope to God that when you leave, I never see you or your smirking face again for the rest of my life and even beyond that!"

"Bravo, Leslie!" Camille cheered, and she, Maureen and Lauren applauded loudly. "It's about time you told off this arrogant schmuck."

"We could always leave right now," Lauren suggested brightly, "and get hold of Mr. Roarke and leave the jerk to what he's got coming."

"Fine," Simon roared. "Do it if you must, but you'll not do it before I've found what I came here for. I knew Claude Duncan had been living on this island for years, and all I needed to know was where his house was. That's the real reason I wanted to come here with Mum. She didn't even know about it, and none of the family seemed to care overmuch. If our property is to come home, then I'm the one who must retrieve it—and you're not going to stop me, Leslie, you or any of your rude and loudmouthed friends."

"We treat others the way they treat us," Maureen informed him. "Since you're acting so high-and-mighty, we see no reason to be polite to you."

"Get your stupid artifact, then, and hurry up," Leslie shouted at him. "I'm done dealing with your bullheadedness." Simon glared at her, and she lunged at him, overcome with a fresh surge of fury. "Get going!!"

Simon reared back, a startled look on his face, and began digging hastily through the box. Lauren and Camille looked at each other in surprise; Maureen grinned. Leslie stood by, shining the flashlight into the box, tapping her foot impatiently.

Finally Simon came up with a round, flat gray metal canister. "Here it is," he said, holding it up so that the light shone on it. "The only known surviving print of my great-grandfather's first film, Eternal Paradise. The first film ever to feature Claude Duncan and Becky Lee in co-starring roles. It belongs to us, and it's coming home with me."

"Says you," Leslie muttered, disgusted. "How you know that is beyond me, but if you don't get your arrogant butt up off the floor and come with us right now, I'm going to tell Mr. Roarke everything. Every last word."

"Oh, do be quiet," Simon said in annoyance and rose to his feet, sliding the canister into a backpack he wore. "Very well, then, let's be off."

"All this trouble for a stupid movie," Camille complained. "So help me God, if anybody finds out what happened tonight, I'm going to put all the blame on you, you overblown aristocrat. Let's get out of this creepy place."

A little less than fifteen minutes later they were on the way back to the Lightwood-Wynton mansion and Albert was speaking in relief. "You put an awful scare into us all, Master Simon. What were you thinking?"

"Did you really use mountain-climbing equipment to get over that wall?" Myeko wanted to know.

"How did you know that?" Simon demanded.

"One of the maids found a little shop receipt you left behind," Leslie said.

Simon sighed deeply. "This place is utter bad luck," he declared. "Yes, for God's sake, I did exactly that. I broke the lock on the front door and let myself in as well, as long as we're making confessions. But I've got what I wanted, and that's enough."

"So you're going to stay out of trouble from now on?" Leslie hinted meaningfully;

Simon threw his hands in the air without actually replying, and the girls grinned at one another, as much from relief as anything else. They were all looking forward to a good night's sleep.

§ § § -- July 26, 1982

On Monday morning, Catherine Lightwood-Wynton looked refreshed and happy, and Simon had an odd, self-satisfied air about him. "I'm so glad Simon enjoyed himself here this week," she said. "It's a lovely island, Mr. Roarke, and I had a splendid time with my fantasy. Perhaps we won't sell the house after all, and we'll spend a month here each winter. Wouldn't that be grand, Simon dear? I shall certainly apprise you of whatever decision we do make, Mr. Roarke."

"Of course," Roarke agreed, smiling. "I am very pleased that you found your stay and your fantasy so enjoyable. You are welcome back anytime." Leslie bit her lip and held her tongue to keep from voicing her opinion of Catherine's idea, and it wasn't till after Simon and Catherine had disappeared aboard the charter that Roarke finally turned to her.

"You're unusually quiet this morning, Leslie," he said. "Did your week with young Simon turn out all right?"

"Oh sure, Mr. Roarke," Leslie said. "Everything was just fine." She gave him a bland little smile and reflected privately that what he didn't know couldn't possibly hurt him…or her either, for that matter!


Chapter 2 makes brief reference to the February 28, 1981 episode "Also-Rans / Portrait of Solange", first story arc (in regard to the race between Satin Duke and Pomona Prince); and you might recognize the chateau and the property that eventually Maureen and Grady, and Christian and Leslie, would split between them and build their own homes on. The chateau and its original owner, Claude Duncan, featured in the February 7, 1981, episode "The Chateau / White Lightning", first story arc, with David Hedison as the silent-film actor.