From one end of the porch ran a narrow footbridge, spanning the lower lawn and ending at a high cliff. Miss Lydecker, noticing Klein’s interest in this, hastened to explain.
“Daddy has built a summerhouse on the very edge of that cliff. Would you care to go out? We call it Eagle’s Nest.”
They ventured out, the girl leading the way. Reaching the cliff, the two stood for a minute in silence, gazing down upon the sea. Only a narrow rail, breast-high, was between them and a sheer drop of a hundred feet.
“Don’t lean too far over the rail,” the girl warned him, half jesting. “One of our men fell here a few years ago.” She shuddered. “I wouldn’t come near the Nest for months afterward.”
Suddenly, above the steady throb of the surf, there came the first sounds of a distant orchestra.
“There!” exclaimed Miss Lydecker; “the first dance! And we’re missing it.”
They ran along the footbridge and across the broad porch toward the big door. Just as they were about to enter, Miss Lydecker stopped short, and a cry came from her lips.
“What is the matter?” Klein asked anxiously.
“Right there!” She pointed a finger.
“What?”