Marigold jumps up and runs to the door.

‘Don’t open it!’ Elvis Eager yells. But of course Marigold does. Weak daylight streams through the opening door. Elvis Eager dives under the table.

Bunchy’s chanting softly in the shadows. Monty thinks she must be trying another protection spell, but he can’t hear the words.

A small figure hurtles through the doorway and crashes into the Pick-up Sled, knocking all the driftwood and Monty’s Finds onto the floor. The monsters outside shriek and dive. Marigold slams and bolts the door again just in time, shutting them out and plunging the Cafe into dimness once more. She hurries to the stove and comes back with the lantern.

The newcomer pushes herself away from the Sled and stands upright, breathing heavily. Her pointed nose is twitching, and her dark eyes gleam in the light of the lantern. She’s wearing some sort of uniform, and on her back there’s a large bag covered in pockets, straps and buckles.

‘Oragoths!’ she squeaks. ‘Giant Red-Winged Oragoths! But that’s impossible, impossible, impossible!’

‘We think they were blown off-course in the storm,’ says Marigold.

‘No, no, no!’ The stranger shakes her head violently. ‘They never fly out to sea. Their island is the only place they can find their food, so they never leave it. Never, never, never!’

Outside, the Oragoths shriek. There’s a rush of wings and clattering thuds as they land on the roof again.

‘Never?’ Sir Wise murmurs, looking up.

The stranger jumps. She hadn’t noticed the other Islanders sitting at the table in the dark.

‘Well, if they did leave, they must have had a very, very, VERY good reason!’ she snaps. Her eyes narrow suspiciously. She shrugs off her backpack and pulls a torch from one of the pockets. She flicks the torch on and trains its powerful beam on the shadowy figures at the table, inspecting their faces one by one.

‘Who are you?’ she demands, quite rudely.

‘Who be askin’, fungus-face?’ snarls Clink, very rudely indeed.

The newcomer takes out a wallet, flips it open and holds it out to show a shiny silver badge inside. ‘Ranger Katz,’ she says coldly. ‘Rare Beasts Division.’

‘My goodness!’ Marigold exclaims. ‘How did you get here, Ranger Katz?’

‘Trekked through the jungle from the other side. Blown in last night. Boat wrecked. Now . . .’

Monty hears a small chinking noise. He hears what sounds like munching, too. He looks round, squinting through the dimness. To his great surprise, he sees little Ickle sitting on the floor by the shelves, happily chewing on a softly gleaming spoon.

‘Puh!’ says Tawny. He’s looked round, too.

‘Ickle!’ the baby chirrups, taking two more gleaming spoons from a small heap in front of him. ‘Ickle, ickle, ickle!’

‘What’s that?’ squeaks Ranger Katz, swinging her torch towards the sound.

The powerful beam of light falls on Ickle, looking bigger than ever, gulping down spoons that are obviously pure gold. And there beside Ickle is Bunchy, bright red with guilt and clutching the forbidden magic wand.