"You can't," she faltered—"nobody could get here. If you had a rope—from above—"
"I have no rope and I'm not above," he said shortly. He unstrapped his heavy pack and dropped it at his feet. His carbine he buckled tightly across his back by its carrying sling. It was to be remembered that the girl expected to meet a companion somewhere in this vicinity, and while no third person had put in an appearance as yet, the officer had no way of knowing whom he might encounter on the other side of the terrace, and he had no intention of going anywhere unarmed.
As he stood silent for a moment, studying the precipitous slope above him, he heard a splintering sound, and detached fragments of stone bounced down from the cliff and struck the ground behind him. Craning his neck backwards, he saw that the girl had shifted her position and was gazing over the dizzy brink, as though her glance were held in dreadful fascination by the ugly rocks below.
"Don't move, and don't look down!" he shouted angrily. And then he spoke in attempted reassurance. "I'll get you off somehow. Don't worry, and hang on tight!"
"I can't—much longer," she informed him in a small, frightened voice.
"You can until I get there!" he asserted gruffly, and picking a first toehold, he started to ascend the cliff.
For the first thirty or forty feet the cliff sloped slightly back, and he mounted swiftly and almost as easily as though he were stepping up the rungs of a ladder. But as he climbed higher the pitch became steeper, and presently he found himself hanging on a sheer wall, depending for support on the muscular grip of toes and fingers. The way seemed feasible, however, and after a hasty inspection of the frowning elevation, he continued to pull himself upward.
But from now on he moved slowly, with infinite caution. The least miscalculation would mean a sickening fall, probably death. The crannies between the layers of rock ran in horizontal lines, at frequent, almost regular intervals, like mortar cracks in a crumbling stone building. By alternating with hands and feet, he was able to hoist himself without great effort. But unfortunately snow had drifted into the crevices, and it was not always possible to judge the condition of the rock underneath. Nevertheless he inched his way upward, digging in firmly to keep from slipping, and testing each new stepping place before he trusted his full weight to settle. By degrees he lifted himself towards the ledge where Alison Rayne was crouching, and at length he gained a narrow niche directly beneath her.
Wedging himself in brief security, he glanced overhead, and at once understood why the girl had not dared the rest of the descent. She was lodged on a sloping rock, not more than six feet above him; but between them the cliffside bulged out in an overhanging cornice, smooth as glass and utterly unscalable. By leaning outward Dexter could see her livid features as she gazed over the edge.
She shuddered as she encountered his anxious glance. "You can't come any farther!" she gasped. "And I—I'll be here until I have to—let—go."