“Mrs. Ewing,” Barbara said, knocking timidly at her door. “Have you seen anything of Ruth? She has been gone such a long time that I am worried about her.”
But Mrs. Ewing knew nothing of her.
“I believe I’ll go to meet her,” said Barbara, “and hurry her along. She must be on her way home.” Ralph was on the yacht with Hugh, or Barbara would have asked him to accompany her.
For the first half mile along the cliff walk Barbara strolled slowly, expecting every moment to see Ruth hurrying along. As the walk dipped down into hollows and rose again in the high places, it was difficult to see any distance ahead.
The walk was entirely deserted, and Bab’s heart commenced to beat faster as the darkness began to gather.
“I suppose,” thought Barbara, “Ruth has gone somewhere to make a visit, and has stayed late without thinking. She’s probably at home, now, waiting for me, so I’ll get the scolding from Mrs. Ewing for being late to dinner. I believe I’ll go on back home.” Barbara actually turned and started in the opposite direction.
Something within her seemed to call: “Bab! Bab!” The voice was so urgent she was frightened. “Ruth needs you,” it seemed to say.
Bab began calling aloud, “Ruth! Ruth!” Her voice sounded high and shrill in her own ears; but only the echo answered her, and the noise of the waves pounding against the shore. She could see the distant lights in the houses along the way, but Barbara dared not stop to ask for help while that inner voice urged her on.
Barbara was running, now, along the narrow, difficult path. “O Ruth, dear Ruth!” she cried. “Why don’t you answer me? Are you anywhere, needing me?” She heard a low sound and stopped. Nothing but her own imagination! There were always queer noises along the cliff shore, where the water swirled into little eddies and gurgled out again.
Barbara waited. She heard nothing more, so she plunged on. Suddenly she drew back with a gasp of horror. Part of the cliff walk had disappeared! Where a bridge of stone had spanned a narrow chasm there was a terrible, yawning hole. Jutting out their vicious arms were rocks, rocks, forming a sheer drop of seventy feet to the beach below.