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should have an education. So he paid to send Niko to school in Athens. Niko did very well in school, though his teachers could never quite keep up with all his questions. When he grew up, he became an astronomer.” The dragon gave a knowing little chuckle. “He was famed in his time for a crackpot hypothesis. He insisted that the earth was not the center of the universe. Instead, he said, the earth moves. It travels in circles around the sun.”
    Hannah had been silent, thinking.
    Finally she said, “I don’t know, Fafnyr. There wasn’t any magical monster, but there
was
danger all the same. That wolf was dangerous. It almost killed Niko. Sometimes things that look scary aren’t. Like you. But sometimes there’s real danger. You have to be careful.”
    The dragon nodded ruefully. “Too true, my dear,” it said. “But first you must observe and weigh the evidence.”
    It yawned widely. “The scientific method, you know,” it said. The green eyes began to droop closed.
    “We’d better be going,” Zachary said.
    “So delightful to see you,” the dragon murmured. “Please return soon. My brother and sister will be most anxious for a visit.”
    Its eyes closed. There was a suspicion of a snore.
    “Good night, Fafnyr,” the children whispered. Zachary switched on the flashlight. Softly they turned and tiptoed quietly back toward the entrance of the cave. When they reached the ledge, they stood still for a moment, looking down at the blue ocean and the silent white boat.
    “I’m confused,” Sarah Emily said. “I don’t think I understand Fafnyr’s story. Was there a monster or wasn’t there?”
    Zachary was staring worriedly at the white yacht.
    “I don’t know,” Hannah said. “It sounds like sometimes it’s hard to tell.”
    When the children got back to the house, pink-cheeked and windblown from the hike from Drake’s Hill, an excited Mrs. Jones met them at the kitchen door. She had been watching for them. “You’ll never guess who’s in your auntie’s parlor,” she said. “Mr. J.P. King, that’s who. The man they call the Mystery Billionaire. He’s been waiting for you for nearly half an hour.”
    “Who’s that?” asked Sarah Emily. “I’ve never heard of him.”
    “
I
have,” Zachary said. “He’s really rich. He owns all these steel mills and things, and he’s made about a zillion dollars in computers. He’s in the newspapers all the time. Stories, no pictures. He won’t have his picture taken ever.”
    “I’ve heard of him too,” said Hannah. “He never goes out in public, and he lives on this enormous estate surrounded by high walls and security guards.”
    “He has houses all over the world,” Zachary said. “In Paris and London and New York. And he owns this big ranch in Montana.”
    “Why is he
here
?” asked Hannah.
    “He said he came to apologize,” said Mrs. Jones. “He was passing by in his yacht and thought that the island was uninhabited. We told him that the island belongs to your auntie, who never allows visitors without her permission. Then he wanted to know who lives on the island, and we told him that it was just the two of us, and you three children, visiting. He said he was fond of children and would like to meet you. It’s quite an honor. They say he never meets anybody.”
    Mrs. Jones smoothed her apron and bustled toward the refrigerator. “Just leave your jackets there on the chair and run along. I’ll bring some tea — thank goodness Tobias bought lemons on his last trip to the mainland — and cocoa and fresh pound cake.”
    The children paused, flabbergasted, in the hall.
    “J.P. King,” Zachary whispered.
“Wow!”
    Together they stepped through the parlor door. There, sitting on a needlepoint chair and playing idly with Aunt Mehitabel’s jade chess set, sat the man from the yacht. Now he was wearing khaki slacks and a blue sweater with a thin gold stripe across the chest. As the children entered the room, he got to his feet,