The imposing form of Chateau Trione rose ominously above a cold, lifeless cliff from which, too recently, a young girl had mysteriously plunged to her death. Shirley had come to the medieval chateau at the invitation of her good friend Robert, Count de Revenau. She had come to recuperate from a broken engagement, to loll on the sun-drenched sands of the Riviera and to lose herself in the gaiety of Carvinal Time in Nice. What had she to do with a terrible tragedy that belonged to the past? Now - with new love so near - why did she find herself inextricably drawn to the cliffs - to mystery and death?