“It sits high on a cliff overlooking the ocean. Much too high, with its sheer rock cliff pitching down to the sea, to be used as a good landing spot. It would take a creature with the leaping ability of a mountain goat and the stamina of an elephant to get the kegs of brandy up that incline, though from the top the tranter’s wagons would have easy enough access along a gently winding path up from the main road. Its isolation made it a tempting spot for me. It was connected by legend with the mos...t renowned smuggler ever to land a barrel in England, Miss Marjoram. But then a whole host of exploits bedazzled that gentleman’s name, at least three quarters of which are imaginary. With Williams nipping off to London a day before me, I decided to go for a drive up to the Eyrie. It is uninhabited, of course, except for ghosts. These are hangers-on from the days of Miss Marjoram, which inclined me to think he had used the house for smuggling. A ghost was a wonderful incentive for keeping the curious away, especially on a dark night, and more especially in those old days when the world was more simpleminded.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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