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"I really came to see if I could find out anything about my brother. I want to know what happened to him."

"How long is it since you last heard?"

"Two years."

"That's a long time."

"People here knew him. I have talked to them, but they can't tell me any more than you have. They met him. They talked to him. But he seems to have talked to you more than he did to most for he did tell you about the island."

"Well, that's all I can say. I suppose naturally he would talk to me. He was just out from England and I'm English, too, although I live in Australia. We just got talking and it slipped out about the island."

"And you can't remember anything else?"

"There was nothing else. We just sat and talked for half an hour or so one or two mornings. That's all."

I was disappointed. It was the same as I had heard again and again.

"My name is John Everton," he said. "I hope you did not mind my speaking to you."

"Not at all. I am very interested to hear any little detail about my brother."

"I wish I could be of help."

We talked about the island and after a while I left him.

The next morning he approached me again.

He said: "I've been thinking a lot about what we said. This island ... It is intriguing, I find."

"It's non-existent apparently."

"How can you be sure of that?"

"Because I've actually been out to look for it and there is nothing where it should be."

"Did you have a map then?"

"Yes, I had a map."

"Depicting this island?"

"Yes."

"Well, then it must be there."

"It's a very old map ... or rather a copy of one."

"Where did you get this map? It seems so extraordinary that the place should be marked on a map and not be there."

"It is the copy of a map which was found in my home."

"Found in your home! What... ? Forgive me. I am being too inquisitive."

"No... certainly not. We found this map in our house. It had been there for a hundred years or thereabouts. The island was marked on it."

"Do you have this map?"

"I have my copy of it."

"Could I... would it... Would it be asking too much to let me see it?"

"Of course not. I'll go and get it."

When I brought the map down to him he studied it with close attention.

"And that's the island," he said, pointing to it. "The Paradise Island."

"That is just the name which was given to it by the man who made the original map."

He looked at me with puzzlement in his eyes.

"It's a long story," I said. "The map was found in our house when some alterations were made. That was what gave rise to all this. My brother wanted to find the island."

"And so he came out here ..." He put his finger on the island. "It is clearly there. I have sailed these seas and I am sure that there is no such island. The map must be at fault. Are you sure this is the actual map which was found in your house?"

"It is an exact replica. I made it."

"yoamadeit?"

"Yes, from the one which was found."

"It's an excellent job."

"My family have been map makers for a very long time. I learned a little about it. I can assure you it is an exact copy."

"How very interesting!"

He gave the map back to me.

He said: "I really do find this most intriguing. I wish I could be of help to you."

"It has been very pleasant talking."

Conversation drifted on to other matters and I bade him farewell and left him.

He seemed to make a ritual of these morning talks for the next day he came up again.

"I feel so excited," he said. "Something has occurred to me. I woke up at five this morning with this idea. That is the time for my ideas. I've had my best then. I wonder what you will think of it."

"Do tell me."

"It's about the map and the island. The map is in error. I wonder who made it in the first place."

I hesitated, then I said: "It was made by a man who was shipwrecked and thrown up on an island. He stayed there for a while and when he was fishing off the island he was caught in a storm and almost drowned. He drifted for a while and was picked up by a ship. Then he made the map."

"Good heavens! That explains a lot."

"You mean there was no island. He was just suffering from a form of hallucination. We have thought of that."

"That might have been so, of course, but I wasn't thinking of that. He made his map from memory. That could explain it. He could be miles out."

"Yes, that is a possibility. But after this group there are no islands for hundreds of miles."

"But what if his island was one of these?"

"How could it be? These are marked clearly on the map."

"There is an island ... a little apart from these by several miles. Four of them are close together, but this one is some distance apart."

"You mean Lion Island? The one which belongs to the mining people?"

"I mean that one, yes."

"But that is marked on the map. There are the four islands and the fifth one apart."

"Exactly, but the shipwrecked man could have been thrown up on that island and thought he was a long way from this group."

I hesitated and he went on: "Don't you think it would be worth investigating?"

"That island belongs to someone."

"Why not pay a visit? The people there might know something about the history of the island."

"Do you think I might do that?"

"I don't see why not. Look here, I'm enormously interested. I've been thinking about it since five this morning. It's a calm day. Why don't I take you over. I could get a boat and we could leave right away."

I considered" this. Why not? I had nothing to do this morning. Milton would call in the evening. I was sure that Felicity would be all right. I did not believe for one moment that Lion Island was the Paradise Island, and even if it were it must have changed completely now and how could I prove it? But I had promised myself that I would follow every clue, however remote it seemed.

I said I would go.

I went to Felicity who was still in bed. She said she felt like a lazy morning and would get up later.

I said: "I'm going out to one of the islands. I'll be away all the morning. So don't worry if I'm a little late back."

"To one of the islands?"

"Yes, just to have a look at it. I have been asked and I might as well go."

It was a feature of Felicity's illness that she was listless and indifferent to what was going on around her. She merely nodded and closed her eyes.

Soon we were skimming over the water. There was the gentlest of breezes and it was very pleasant. Looking ahead I could see the reclining lion getting nearer and nearer.

I was rather sorry when the boat touched land.

"Aren't we trespassing?" I asked.

"I don't think that will matter."

I stood on the sandy beach and looked back. There was no sign of Cariba and the other islands.

"I should have thought they were near enough to be seen," I commented.

"We're on the other side of the island."

I shaded my eyes and looked about me. There was a cove in which lay two ships. One quite big.

"What now?" I asked.

"Explore."

"How could we tell even if we are on Paradise Island?"

"I don't know. We just have to wait and see what happens."

Something was happening now. A man was coming towards us. He was of medium height with blond hair and light blue eyes. Did I have the feeling that I had seen him before—or did I fancy that afterwards?

He put out his hand and said: "Welcome to my island."

I put my hand into his.

He said: "Let me introduce myself. I am Magnus Perrensen."

I was in a state of bewilderment and incredulity and it is difficult for me even now to remember that day very clearly. From the moment he had taken my hand and spoken I felt as though I were living in a dream. I just stared at him. In that moment I was not myself. I was Ann Alice who had become me—just as he, the lover of long ago, now stood before me on Lion Island.