“It is, isn’t it?” He spoke with genuine enthusiasm. “And don’t the crags take peculiar shapes around it? You see it makes a veritable salt-water lake out of all this end of the inlet. But Killdare—if you can overlook the dreariness and the desolation of it all, it certainly is beautiful——”
I nodded. “With a creepy kind of beauty,” I told him. “I wish some great artist could come here and paint it. But it would take a great one—to get the atmosphere. I’ve never seen a more wonderful place for a distinguished home.”
It was rather remarkable how pleased he was by the words—particularly coming from a humble employee. Evidently Kastle Krags was close to his heart. His face glowed and his eye kindled.
“I’m wild about it myself,” he confessed. “My friends want to know why I bought such a place—miles from a habitation—and guy me for a hermit, and all that. Once they see the place, and its devilish fascination gets hold of ’em, they won’t want to leave.”
From thence the talk led to business, and he questioned me in regard to the game and fish of the region. I assured him that his friends would have sport in plenty, that I knew where to lead them to turkey and partridge, and that no better fishing could be found in the whole south than in the Ochakee River. He seemed satisfied with my knowledge of the country; and told me a little of his own plans. Just as Edith Nealman had told me, he was planning a week’s fish and hunt for a half dozen of his man friends, beginning a fortnight from then. They were coming a long way—so he wanted to give them sport of the best. The servant problem had been easily solved—he had recruited from the negro section of the nearest city—but until he had talked with my friend, Mr. Todd, he had been at a loss as to where he could procure a suitable guide.
“I’d like to have a guide for each man, if I could,” he went on, “but of course they are not to be found. Besides, only a small part of the party will want to go out at once. Most of them will be content to hang around here, drinking my brandies and fishing in the lagoon.”
“How is fishing in the lagoon?” I asked.
“The best. Sometimes we even take tarpon. All kinds of rock fish—and they fight like fiends. The rocks are just full of little crevices and caves, and I suppose the fish live in ’em. These same crevices are the source of one of the most interesting of the many legends connected with this house.”
It’s a dull man that doesn’t love legends, and I felt my interest stirring. “There are some tales here, eh?”