Fascinated, almost paralysed, she watched it for a full minute before realising that it was the end of a thick rope, which lost itself in the heavy shadows at the cliff end of the garden.  Looking about in terror, as if expecting to see murderous forms emerge from the shadows, she turned to flee.  At the head of the steps which led downward into the corridor, she paused for a moment, glancing over her shoulder at the mysterious, wriggling thing.  She was standing directly in the shaft of light.  To her surprise, the wriggling ceased.  The next moment, a faint, subdued shout was borne to her ears.  Her flight was checked by that shout, for her startled, bewildered ears caught the sound of her own name.  Again the shout, from where she knew not, except that it was distant; it seemed to come from the clouds.

At last, far above, she saw the glimmer of a light.  It was too large to be a star, and it moved back and forth.

Sharply it dawned upon her that it was at the top of the cliff which overhung the garden and stretched away to the sea.  Some one was up there waving a lantern.  She was thinking hard and fast, a light breaking in upon her understanding.  Something like joy shot into her being.  Who else could it be if not Chase?  He alone would call out her name!  He was alive!

She called out his name shrilly, her face raised eagerly to the bobbing light.  Not until hours afterward was Genevra to resent the use of her Christian name by the man in the clouds.

In her agitation, she forgot to arouse the chateau, but undertook to ascertain the truth for herself.  Rushing over, she grasped the knotted end of the rope.  A glance and a single tug were sufficient to convince her that the other end was attached to a support at the top of the cliff.  It hung limp and heavy, lifeless.  A sharp tug from above caused it to tremble violently in her hands; she dropped it as if it were a serpent.  There was something weird, uncanny in its presence, losing itself as it did in the darkness but a few feet above her head.  Again she heard the shout, and this time she called out a question.

“Yes,” was the answer, far above.  “Can you hear me?” Greatly excited, she called back that she could hear and understand.  “I’m coming down the rope.  Pray for us—­but don’t worry!  Please go inside until we land in the garden.  It’s a long drop, you know.”

“Are you quite sure—­is it safe?” she called, shuddering at the thought of the perilous descent of nearly three, hundred feet, sheer through the darkness.

“It’s safer than stopping here.  Please go inside.”

She dully comprehended his meaning:  he wanted to save her from seeing his fall in the event that the worst should come to pass.  Scarcely knowing what she did, she moved over into the shadow near the walls and waited breathlessly, all the time wondering why some one did not come from the chateau to lend assistance.