'You are the young horticulturalist, si? Please, come this way. We weren't expecting you for another two weeks-'
Kara stared. 'A horticulturalist? Me? There must be some misunderstanding. I've just been dropped off by a man in a plane, and I've been robbed!'
It was the maid's turn to stare at her uncomprehendingly, glancing vainly towards the water for the nonexistent aeroplane. 'A man in a plane robbed you? But . . . I do not understand. Who are you? Are you are related to the Castellans?'
'The who?'
The maid indicated the mansion around them. 'The Castellans, the owners of this Casa. You are a relative? A guest?'
Flushing with embarrassment, sensing that she was the victim of a criminal's hoax, Kara said, 'The man who brought me here by plane said he was taking me to a place called Secret Island-'
'Dios!' the woman muttered, her features darkening with anger. 'He was a young man, si? Tall and skinny, with big yellow teeth? And an old plane that should not still be flying?' Noting Kara's assent, she cursed under her breath. 'That- that dirty little criminal! He has done this before! Taken the money of unsuspecting turistas and flown them only Dios knows where! I suppose I shall have to take you to the Señora, so that she may decide what is to be done with you. Come, and leave your bag where it is. At least there are no thieves around here!'
She led Kara down a long corridor and up three flights of stairs, until they came at last to a door that was partially open that led to a study. Within sat a classically elegant figure who was absorbed with an assortment of tiny objects which she viewed under a large mounted adjustable lens. 'Yes, Maria,' she said without looking up.
'Your pardon, Señora Castellan, but Ricardo Galiano has stranded and robbed yet another turista and left her on your premises.'
The woman grimaced. 'Only one this time?' She straightened in her chair, which in her was a truly formidable gesture, and gave Kara an unsettlingly gauging look. 'What is your name, girl?'
Though she'd done nothing wrong, Kara felt humiliated and vulnerable, sensing the woman before her to be a figure of some authority. Trying not to stutter, she said, 'I'm . . . my name is Kara . . . Kara Savalas.' Instinctively, she curtsied, nervously.
'You've come all the way from Greece? Athens, by the sound of your accent.'
'Actually, no . . . I was living in England, but I'm from Athens originally-' She flinched as the woman looked her up and down once more, reassessing.