No chink of daylight shone upon its delicately crafted surface or picked out the colors that came upon it in the sun. Until now. Stanley Buggles’s grubby hands reached in and held the silver casket around its belly, retrieving it for one short moment. A moment that was long enough for him to take out the ancient map that lay inside. This was the very map that he and Daisy had discovered was a plan of Crampton Rock, the island they were on. Daisy Grouse was Stanley’s closest friend. The niece of the lighthouse keeper, she lived a stone’s throw from Stanley when she was visiting her uncle, which seemed to be most of the time. Together they had seen the worst of pirate life, and right now they had business to attend to. The old map that lay in their possession had an “X marks the spot” that was aching to be discovered. They had found the whereabouts of the cross on the map. But frustratingly, its center lay in the Darkling house, down in the village. They had checked and double-checked, but each time they came back to the very same spot: the spooky, ramshackle old hut that Edmund Darkling had made his family home.
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