He was fully prepared for his winter visit to Crampton Rock, swamped by two suitcases and a large bag, all filled with itchy woolen garments knitted by his grandmother. His first visit to the island had been filled with all manner of adventures and he wondered if his return would be as eventful. He was hoping for a more peaceful time, even if it was to be considerably colder. His mother was there, with his stepfather at her side. She wore the most ridiculous fur coat. He hated it because when she hugged him, its hairs tickled his face. Within minutes Stanley was on the train, and waving goodbye to his weeping mother. He made a gesture with his hand that indicated he would write. The train creaked and groaned and then finally hurtled forward into the darkness of an early winter’s evening. Stanley made himself comfortable and drifted into thoughts of the previous summer. It was six months since he’d inherited Candlestick Hall from his Great-uncle, Admiral Bartholomew Swift. Stanley had never met him, but he knew every detail of his unfortunate death.
