I believe I was twenty minutes taking as many steps, when at the point where the ledge broke off I saw the ends of an iron ladder sticking up, and close beside it a great hole in the rock, which till now the curve of the cliff had hid. The ladder no doubt stood on a second shelf below. I was pausing to consider this, when a bright ray stream’d across the sea toward me, and the red rim of the sun rose out of the waters, outfacing the glow on the headland, and rending the film of smoke that hung like a curtain about the horizon. ’Twas as if by alchemy that the red ripples melted to gold; and I stood watching with a child’s delight. I heard the sound of a footstep: and fac’d round. Before me, not six paces off, stood Hannibal Tingcomb. He was issuing from the hole with a sack on his shoulder, and sneaking to descend the steps, when he threw a glance behind—and saw me! Neither spoke. With a face grey as ashes he turn’d very slowly, until in the unnatural light we look’d straight into each other’s eyes. His never blink’d, but stared—stared horribly, while the veins swell’d black on his forehead and his lips work’d, attempting speech. No words came—only a long drawn sob, deep down in his throat. And then, letting slip the sack, he flung his arms up, ran a pace or two toward me, and tumbled on his face in a fit. His left shoulder hung over the verge; his legs slipp’d. In a trice he was hanging by his arms, his old distorted face turn’d up, and a froth about his lips. I made a step to save him: and then jump’d back, flattening myself against the rock. The ledge was breaking. I saw a seam gape at my feet. I saw it widen and spread to right and left. I heard a ripping, rending noise—a rush of stones and earth: and, clawing the air, with a wild screech, Master Tingcomb pitch’d backward, head over heels, into space. Then follow’d silence: then a horrible splash as he struck the water, far below: then again a slipping and trickling, as more of the ledge broke away—at first a pebble or two sliding—a dribble of earth—next, a crash and a cloud of dust. A last stone ran loose and dropp’d. Then fell a silence so deep I could catch the roar of the flames on the hill behind. Standing there, my arms thrown back and fingers spread against the rock, I saw a wave run out, widen, and lose itself on the face of the sea. Under my feet but eight inches of the cornice remain’d. My toes stuck forward over the gulf. [Illustration: The ledge was breaking.] A score of startled gulls with their cries call’d me to myself. I open’d my eyes, that had shut in sheer giddiness. Close on my left the ledge was broke back to the very base, cutting me off by twelve feet from that part where the ladder still rested. No man could jump it, standing. To the right there was no gap: but in one place only was the footing over ten inches wide, and at the end my rope hung over the sea, a good yard away from the edge. I shut my eyes and shouted.