Who had opened the door? And how had they got in?

The cabin hatch was locked by a padlock from the outside, so they must have gone in from the foredeck. But only one person other than Ben had the key to that, which meant that …

Sam was home!

Ben hurled himself through the hatch, tripped over Elsie on the top step, tumbled down the rest and landed in a painful heap on the cabin floor.

A voice spoke, but it was a girl’s voice, not his brother’s.

“Please,” the girl said. “Hide me. It’s a matter of life or death.”

The girl, of course, was Lotti, though Ben didn’t know this yet.

She stood before him in the cabin, flushed from running, the skirt of her old-fashioned sailor suit dirty and torn, her long hair unraveling from its braids. Slung across her body, she carried a canvas satchel.

The satchel was wriggling.

Ben, doubly winded by his fall and the disappointment that Lotti was not Sam, could only stare. Elsie growled, her golden eyes fixed on the satchel.

The satchel jumped.

“It’s no good,” announced Lotti. “I’m going to have to let him out. You’d better hold on to your dog.”

Quite composed, she sat down on Ben’s bunk, pulled the satchel’s shoulder strap over her head and laid the bag down beside her. Ben finally recovered the power of speech.

“Let who out? What are you talking about?” His voice was high with indignation. Who was this girl, and how dare she intrude like this on his boat? “I don’t even know what you’re doing here!”

“Shh,” Lotti begged. “You must be quiet.”

Ben wanted to say that this was his boat and he would make as much noise as he liked, but now curiosity was getting the better of indignation. Lotti was undoing the satchel’s buckles, making tender cooing sounds as she did so. Elsie quivered and stepped closer. Ben slipped his fingers through her collar and craned forward to look.

“It’s all right,” Lotti whispered into the bag. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

Ben and Elsie watched in astonishment as a small, black nose emerged from the satchel, then a slim, toffee-colored snout. The nose twitched. A thin paw appeared, then another, followed by surprisingly robust shoulders and the rest of the head, with eyes like black marbles and ears like enormous bat wings, which would have made Ben laugh if the creature hadn’t been so very pitiful.

“It’s a dog,” he said unnecessarily, before adding, “He’s very thin.”

“That,” said Lotti darkly, “is because he’s been very badly treated.”