The iron door opened into a long, downward-sloping passageway lined with heaps of skeletal remains.

“I wonder who all these people were,” Jocelyn said.

“Begging your pardon, miss, but I imagine I could take a guess. These ’uns here are likely the crew the dear captain hired to build the traps an’ bring in his initial load of treasure. Can’t have them leaving here and telling tales out of school, now, could he?” Smee gave one an amiable pat. “That captain, he thought of everything, didn’t he, Johnny? I wouldn’t be surprised if he paid them extra to haunt the place.”

Jocelyn shuddered. “I certainly hope not.” She picked up her pace. “What do we have to do next, Roger?”

He consulted the logbook. “It merely says ‘Face your fear and claim your reward.’”

“‘Face your fear…’” Jocelyn frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“But Cap’n,” One-Armed Jack said, “the reward part is good, right? Doesn’t that mean we are close?”

Jocelyn couldn’t help being cheered by his enthusiasm, though only a little. “I believe it does, Jack. Thank you.”

At the end of the corridor the cave split into five tunnels, too long for the lantern light to illuminate their endings. Next to each, trimmed in an ornate gold-leaf frame, hung a painting. Jocelyn brought her lamp close to examine the painting nearest her. The scene within was an empty graveyard, lonely and desolate. The artist had great skill. Looking at it sent a shiver down Jocelyn’s spine. She took a small step back, trying not to think about Mr. Smee’s talk of hauntings. “Which way, Roger?” she asked.

“There isn’t anything else. That was the last of Jim’s translation.”

“I knew we were close!” Jack said, swinging his cricket bat arm in triumph and clunking Nubbins in the back of the head with it.

“Watch where you swing that thing, Jack, or I’ll show you facing your fears!”

Jocelyn silenced the pair with a look. “Jim, was there more on the map? A part you may have forgotten to write down?”

He shook his head.

“All right then, Bart, do you hear anything down any of them?”

Bart stood in front of each passage in turn. “In one I heard the sound of a five-legged female spider doing an excellent job of overcoming her missing limbs. She had nearly finished quite an intricate web.”

Jim McCraig beamed, patted his own “wooden” leg, and said something that was likely encouraging toward the spider.

Bart went on. “In another, I heard a soft patter made from the falling tears of a minuscule cave lizard. I was unable to discern the source of his distress—”

“This is all very interesting—” Jocelyn said.

“No, it isn’t,” Smee muttered.

“But,” Jocelyn continued, “not very useful. Could you tell if one of the corridors leads anywhere?”

Blind Bart adjusted his eye patches. “I must sorrowfully report that none of the various passageways appears to open into any chamber. Perhaps there is a closed door at the end of one. I would surmise the rest are what the French call a cul-de-sac and the English call a dead end, though I certainly hope we do not enter one and end up dead. However, with any dangerous undertaking that is a distinct poss—”

“Thank you, Bart,” Jocelyn interrupted him again. “This must be another puzzle.” She frowned, thinking. “We are supposed to face our fear. Perhaps each of these paintings shows something to be frightened of. We should choose the one we fear most.”

She looked over the rest of the paintings. There was one of a ship at sea about to be overtaken by a great storm, one of a school classroom lorded over by a stern-looking headmaster, one of a sad-looking old man sitting alone, and one of a dolphin.

Yes, a dolphin. You may find it easy to judge, sitting there reasonably safe and comfortable, far from the cave and those paintings, but it was a rather disturbing dolphin.

Jocelyn had no idea which corridor to pick. “All right, men, which do you feel is the most frightening?”

There was a chorus of responses, but none in agreement. After having the paintings described to him, Blind Bart said the ship represented the likelihood of drowning at sea. That was the most terrifying to him. Roger didn’t like the looks of being cooped up with that headmaster. Mr. Smee was moved to tears by the frightful idea of growing old alone. Nubbins didn’t like the graveyard.

No one liked the dolphin.

Before the argument got out of hand, Jocelyn grabbed a thighbone from a nearby skeleton and rapped it on the wall, demanding attention. The skeleton wobbled, its skull toppling from its neck bones and rolling into the center of the corridor where they stood.

“Men, focus! We can’t lose our heads. We need to figure this out, and quickly. Krueger might be in the caves at this very moment!” She paced back and forth in front of the passages. “We could split up, trying each one, but I’m afraid of what would happen should we choose wrong. I could send Meri ahead to scout, but I don’t know what it may take to trigger any traps. I nearly lost him once. I won’t risk him.”

Meriwether hugged her neck, crooning a soft tinkling. Jocelyn brushed him away and continued to pace, thinking. On her next turn, the girl nearly tripped over the skull. She kicked it away in frustration and it rolled down the passage marked by the painting of the headmaster. Before it had moved more than a few feet, a heavy stone fell from the ceiling, crushing the skull to dust beneath it. The stone slowly returned to the ceiling through some unseen rope-and-pulley system, resetting itself for the next person to attempt that passage.

“I’d like to change my vote,” Roger said. “I no longer think we should go that way.”

Jocelyn grinned, both at her accidental success and his comment. “No, but at least we’ve narrowed down our choices. Let’s see if we can do it again.”

They took turns bowling skulls down the remaining passages. Only one set off a trap. A series of long, tall spikes shot up from the ground in the corridor marked with the painting of the graveyard. One spike punched a hole in the skull before they all retracted and disappeared into the ground again. A person unlucky enough to walk that way would have been turned into a pincushion—and not the kind Miss Eliza used to insist Jocelyn embroider.

That left three corridors: the ship, the old man, and the dolphin. “Perhaps we should consider what Captain Hook might have feared,” Roger said.

“What do you think, Smee?” Jocelyn asked.

Smee frowned. “He didn’t fear a thing, so far as I know. At least, nothing besides the Neverland crocodile.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Jocelyn mused. “The instructions say to face your fear, but I don’t know which of these he expected everyone to fear….” She trailed off, lost in thought. “I’ve got it!” she shouted, startling the parrot.

Jocelyn brought her lantern close to the ship painting again. “This isn’t just any ship; it’s the Jolly Roger! The only thing Hook would expect anyone to be afraid of is himself!” The girl looked closer and laughed, even as sudden tears filled her eyes.

“This is definitely the way,” Jocelyn said as she wiped her eyes. “Let’s go.” She strolled confidently down the passage. Roger brought his own lantern close to see what she had discovered. There, behind the wheel of the ship, was painted a miniature Captain Hook. His fist was raised to the sky, and in it he held a tiny blue bottle, labeled COURAGE.

Evie had painted this, leaving a clue that Jocelyn and Roger would understand.

“Come on, men!” Roger called. “The treasure awaits!”

The corridor was rather short, though it twisted off to one side, making the end impossible to detect from the opening. By the time Roger and the crew rounded that corner, Jocelyn was already at a door set in the face of the rock.

The girl pushed, but it did not budge. She looked closely, trying to find a catch or keyhole, but nothing was there. “Spread out,” she commanded her men. “Check the walls for anything out of the ordinary, like the X that Roger found earlier.” Everyone began to search, holding their lanterns high and feeling along the walls. Jocelyn stooped to set hers down in order to use both hands—and there it was.

Near the ground, affixed to the rock wall next to the door, was a small oiled brass symbol. It looked like a hook lying on its side. Jocelyn reached for it, intending to turn it right side up, but at the last moment she changed her mind. She turned the symbol downward so it was not a hook, but a letter J. The door whispered a soft snick and swung open a few inches.

Jocelyn had unlocked the treasure chamber.