Waiting alone in the chill gloom of the crypt, with the feline, uncivilized faint traffic hum wafting in from outside, Sunflower, even lovelier — if possible — in her grief, thought once more of the ‘Parisian Pirate’, Rebecca, the ‘hooded visitor’ in her recurring dream. He was now, according to father, marooned by his own crew on the Isle of Retribution.
   It was then that came a confused chorus of greetings from the courtyard, and she somehow knew that her heart had been right all along. He was here! “Come to me, honey bun!” he stated.
   Suddenly, he excitedly began to show her his plans for the villa they were to share, and as the horror of these last months vanished in a blaze of joy, she made a mental note to call Ulysses later and tell her all about it.