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 The lake below, seen through a clump of black pines, was grey and glazed. The Hillside crane, on his evening grub-call, flew over their heads towards his favorite island. As they watched his landing Louise noticed two white crescent-shaped objects on the dark floor of the lake near the stream which came down in steps from the canyon. It was as though some giant seated on an overhanging ledge had been paring his nails.

"They're on the water already!" she cried.

"Fishing. Quite true to type," Dare commented. "The minute rich old men get away from home they have an uncontrollable desire to kill."

Louise sighed at the prospect of unforeseen vagaries in her guests. "Will they be grumpy if they don't catch anything?"

"Probably,—and reminiscent."

"I'm glad the flowers came out so well," Louise remarked irrelevantly, with an affectionate backward glance at the garden as they reached the terrace. "With all due respect to your genius, I like my own roses better than all this."

"This" was indicated by a sweeping gesture which took in the Castle, the commodious outbuildings, and a pattern of roadways and clearings.

She was arrested by the sound of voices from the other terrace. A tall woman whom she immediately recognized appeared at the corner, leading a younger woman towards the parapet. With the air of a licensed guide she was pointing across the lake to-