VICKI HAD A RESTLESS NIGHT. THIS WAS UNUSUAL, because her healthy young body ordinarily enabled her to drop off into restful slumber almost as soon as she turned off the light. But last night she had been disturbed by fitful dreams of big old houses with murky rooms, ghostly pirate figures chasing her, and strange creatures lurking in wait for her around dark corners. The face of old Mr. Tytell floated through her dreams, frightened and pleading, and that of Raymond Duke with his leering, white-toothed smile.
Once she woke up and lay awake for a long time, thinking about the skull and crossbones and the threatening note. It couldn’t be a prank! She was obviously getting close to something—and those involved were trying to scare her off. It could be nobody else but the masked pirate, Raymo
