Page 80 of The Vanished Sister

Certainly they couldn’t suffer from a fear of heights.

This minor marvel of a cliffside garden went on for at least twice as long as Mrs. Watson had anticipated, her arms stiff from now truly hanging on to the strap—the carriage seemed to pull perilously close to the disappearing edge of the drive.

“My goodness,” exclaimed Inspector MacDonald again, as an Italianate villa came into view.

The villa sat on a slight shelf surrounded by more terraced gardens, mostly above it as the bluffs below, overgrown with gorse and heather, were too sheer. But the red-roofed structure was far larger than one would expect for this little bit of level—or leveled—land. It had been built very nearly to where the shelf ended and the drop began. And then, the crowning touch, a large terrace that jutted out over the edge.

Barely enough room had been left in front of the villa for a small carriage to turn around.

A curtain fluttered on the ground floor. As Inspector MacDonald helped the ladies alight, Mrs. Albright already stood on the small loggia. Perhaps because they hadn’t announced their visit, she looked less off-kilter than usual, her plain brown dress not fashionable but also not questionable.

Inspector MacDonald performed the introductions, as Mrs. Albright had met Sherrinford Holmes but not his sister Miss Holmes.

“We’ve had some interesting developments in the case and Miss Holmes believes it a good idea to take a look at Villa Inglese and ask you a few more questions. Mrs. Watson has volunteered to serve as her chaperone.”

“Well, of course, come in,” said Mrs. Albright, smiling rather too brightly.

Miss Charlotte asked to be taken directly to the terrace. Mrs. Albright looked quizzical—and unquiet—but complied. She guided them to a drawing room that had French doors opening to the terrace.

“And this is the main drawing room where guests would be received?”

“Yes, Miss Holmes.”

The view, as one stepped onto the terrace, could not be improved upon, provided one liked heights and did not mind the sensation of being suspended in midair.

“The gentleman who had this house built very much enjoyed the panorama, but his heirs, not so much,” said Mrs. Albright, chuckling a little. “Which is why the house is let to holidayers these days.”

Miss Charlotte moved to the edge of the terrace and leaned over its wrought iron balustrade.

“Do be careful!” cried Mrs. Watson and Inspector MacDonald at once.

“It is not such a terrifying fall as that.”

She waved them over to see for themselves.

It would not be a kind fall: a person could easily break a few bones. But one would not slide straight into the sea three hundred feet below, as the thicket would have stopped a body from rolling more than a turn or two.

“I see what you mean,” said Inspector MacDonald. “The ground is only fifteen feet below.”

The cliff might have a slope of seventy degrees, but like most other places on the coast, it was impossible to pitch a body to the sea from the terrace of Villa Inglese.

Miss Charlotte moved to the western edge of the terrace and leaned out again, Inspector MacDonald and Mrs. Watson in her wake. “Do you see that?”

Inspector MacDonald squinted. “Is that a—is that a set of rails?”

“Yes,” whispered Mrs. Watson.

Miss Charlotte took her by the arm. “Shall we take a closer look?”

In a normal country house, one that wasn’t so narrowly and perilously situated, the side of the house farther away from the gate might lead to a walled garden, and from there, various outbuildings. But here, at the end of a short path, by the fences that marked the boundaries of the property, they came to a locked shed.

A sign had been stenciled onto the door: Lift mechanism in disrepair. Do not operate cable car.

Inspector MacDonald turned around and gazed in wonder at the opening in the trees, where a barricade indicated the end of the line for a set of narrow-gauge rails clapped to the side of the cliff. “They really built a cable car here. A private cable car.”

“We’ve sailed past this way a few times,” said Miss Charlotte. “The rails are not visible from the sea, but from the correct angle you can still see the straight line that once cut through the vegetation on the cliff.”

In fact, on the day of the outing with everyone from Sans Souci, Mrs. Watson had been the one to point out that line to Miss Olivia, causing her to exclaim in delight and envy.