The slope
upward was quite gradual, and the summit led directly into the mouth of a
small valley. By this time even West could recognize that they were
proceeding along a well used path, and he was not surprised when she
announced the presence of the house before them, pointing out the dim
shadow through the gloom. Otherwise his eyes might have failed to
distinguish the outlines, but under her guidance he could make out enough
of its general form to assure him that they were approaching no mere
fisherman's shack.
"That is no hut," he exclaimed in surprise. "It looks more like a
mansion."
"And why not?" pleasantly enough. "I have always heard these bluffs were
filled with summer homes. Unfortunately this one appears to be deserted.
But we must go on, and try to discover some inhabitant."
There was no light to guide them, yet the path was easily followed,
through what apparently was an orchard, then through the gate of a rustic
fence to a broad carriage drive, circling past the front door. All was
silence, desolation; no window exhibited a gleam of radiance, nor did a
sound greet them from any direction. They paused an instant before the
front door, uncertain how to proceed.
"But there must be some one about here," West insisted. "For this was
the house I saw from the ridge, and there was a light burning then in
one of the windows, and there was a wisp of smoke rising from a chimney.
Perhaps the shutters are all closed, or, early as it is, the people may
have retired.
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