Kastle Krags: A Story of Mystery
Page 5
CHAPTER V
After Nealman and I had each smoked a cigarette, I thought of a littleplan that might increase his guest's interest in the week's shoot andhunt. He had been right when he said that even incredible legends,believed by no one, still add flavor to the country manor. I didn't seewhy we shouldn't turn them into account.
"I've got an idea," I told him, "and it all depends whether or notyou've already sent the invitations to your guests."
"No, I haven't--just haven't got around to it," he answered. "All I wasgoing to do was to write to about nine or ten of my men friends. I don'tsuppose all of them can come."
"Good. I thought it might be interesting if we worked that legend intothe invitation--just to add a little spice to the fishing and hunting.It might serve to waken a little extra interest in your party. Ofcourse--it includes poking fun at the ferocious Jason and his treasure."
"They'll have a lot more fun poked at them before we're done. As I toldyou--only the colored people take them seriously at all."
I took out my fountain pen, found a scrap of paper, and drew somethinglike this:
GRAND TREASURE HUNT You are hereby invited to rally round at KASTLE KRAGS Sept. 6-12; search for SPANISH GOLD on 50-50 basis.
The Treasure is guarded by AWFUL SEA-MONSTER
P.S. Bring rods and guns. Turkey, quail, deer, sea-fish. All that makes the sportsman's heart be glad.
R.S.V.P.]
As my only drawing experience consisted in portraying specimens, it hadno artistic pretensions whatever.
He seemed pleased, adopted the plan in an instant, then began to writedown the names of his guests so that I could prepare an invitation foreach. Most of them, I observed, lived in great cities to the North, NewYork and Boston particularly, and one or two of the men were more orless nationally known. The first half dozen names came easy. Then hepaused, frowning.
"I wish I knew what to do about this bird," he muttered, as much tohimself as to me. "Killdare, I don't suppose you've ever heard ofhim--Major Kenneth Dell?"
I shook my head. "Not that I remember."
"Well, I haven't either--yet I suppose he's a good sportsman. In thelast few weeks he's got close to my best friend, Bill Van Hope, and Billasked me to ask him down for this shoot. Says he's a distinguished man,the best of fellows, and is simply wild to try Floridan game. Oh, I'llput him down. If Bill recommends him he must be the goods."
He completed the list in a moment, then his duties calling himelsewhere, he left me in the study to prepare the invitations. And thehour turned out fortunately for me, after all. Thinking that the roomwas empty, Edith Nealman came back to her desk.
All the gold in Jason's chest could not have bought a more lovelypicture than she made, standing framed in the doorway. She was dressedin a spotless cotton middy-suit, and the red scarf at her throat broughtout to perfection the light in her eyes and the high color in hercheeks. Then she came in and inspected the invitations.
There was no occasion for me to leave at once. We talked a while, oneverything under the sun, and every minute something that was likedelight kept growing within me. She'd been up against the world, thisgirl that chattered so gayly in the big, easy office-chair. She hadknown poverty, a veritable struggle for existence; yet they hadn'thardened her in the least. No one I had ever met had possessed asweeter, truer outlook, an unfeigned friendliness and comradeshipfor every decent thing that lived. Maybe you'd call it a childishsimplicity, but I didn't stop to consider what it was. I only knewthat she was the prettiest and the sweetest girl I'd ever seen, andI was going to spend every moment possible in her presence.
Oh, but I loved to hear her laugh! I kept my brain busy thinking upthings to say to her, that might waken that rippling sound of silverbells! I liked to see her eyes grow serious, and her lips half-pout assome delightful, fanciful thought played hide-and-seek in her mind. Shehad imagination, this niece of Grover Nealman. Perhaps, after all, itwas the secret of her charm. I didn't doubt for a moment but that sheread romantic novels by the score, but I, for one, wouldn't hold thefact against her.
We talked over the legend of Jason's chest; and I was a little surprisedat her devoted interest in it. Evidently the savage tale had gonestraight home to her imagination. Whether she put the least credence init I couldn't tell.
It came about, in the twilight hour, that we walked together down to thecraggy shore of the lagoon. Then we stood and watched the light dying onthe blue-green water.
Once more the tide was rolling in. The waves beat with a startling furyover and against the rock wall, and in the half-light the white stoneslooked like the foam-covered fangs of a mighty sea-monster, raging atour intrusion. The water swept through the little crevices in the wall,and the cool spray, refreshing after the tropic day, swept against ourfaces.
The gray sand stretched down to the desolate sea. A plover uttered hisdisconsolate, wailing cry far out to sea. Some dark heron or bitternrose croaking from beside the lagoon, then flapped awkwardly away. Ifelt the girl's hand on my arm as she drew closer to my side.
A worthy place--this manor house of Nealman. Vague thoughts, not quitein keeping with the ordered dimensions of life, had hold of my mind.Presently the girl's grip tightened, and she pointed toward the lagoon.
I saw her face before I followed her gesture. I didn't get the idea thatshe was frightened. Rather she was smiling, quietly, and her eyesglistened.
Seventy yards out, and perhaps fifteen yards back from the Bridge, greatbubbles were bursting upward through the blue-green troubled waters.Some mysterious action of the currents, stirred by the tides, was theunquestioned cause; yet both of us were stirred by the same fancy. Itwas as if some great, air-breathing sea-monster was exhaling beneath thewaves.