The ladder was let down for them to get into the boat. Josephine said in a mocking tone: “Listen, Leonard. Since I created you Prince Lavosneff and provided you with a yacht splendidly fitted out, you have become extraordinarily discreet. But we’ll stick to our agreement, if you don’t mind. I command: you obey. You have the right to an explanation. I have given it to you. Act as if it was sufficient.” “It is sufficient,” said Leonard glumly. “And I recognize that you have laid your plans admirably.” “All the better. Let’s be starting.” She led the way down the ladder and settled herself in the stern of the boat. Leonard and four of their confederates followed him. Two of them took the oars, another the rudder-strings, she directed their course in a low voice. A quarter of an hour later, though her followers had the impression that they were moving forward blindly, she said: “We’re passing Amont harbor.” From time to time she warned the steersman of rocks that rose above the surface of the sea and directed his course by landmarks invisible to the rest of them. The crunching of the keel upon the pebbles was the first thing to inform them that they had reached the beach. They carried her ashore, then beached the boat. “You’re quite certain that we shan’t meet any coast-guards?” whispered Leonard. “Quite certain. Dominique’s last telegram was quite definite.” “Isn’t he coming to meet us?” asked Leonard. “No. I wrote to him to remain at the château among the other servants. He will meet us at eleven.” “Where?” “Near Ralph’s lodge. Don’t talk any more.” All of them were lost to sight in the priest’s staircase. Once in it, Josephine lit a bull’s-eye lantern she had brought with her. They mounted the staircase, in silence. On the top of the cliff the mist was much thinner. At intervals there were gaps in it through which they could see the stars. Therefore Josephine was at once able to point out to them La Haie d’Etigues, many of the front windows of which were lit up. The clock of Benouville church struck ten. Josephine shivered. “Oh, the striking of that clock! How well I recognize it! Ten strokes like the last time I heard it--ten strokes--one after the other! I counted them as I was going to my death.” “Well, you avenged yourself all right,” said Leonard. “On Beaumagnan, yes. But the others----” “On the others too. The two cousins are half mad.” “It’s true,” she said. “But I shall not feel myself fully avenged for an hour. Then I shall be able to rest.” They waited for the mist to drift over again in order that their figures might not stand out against the bare plain they had to traverse. Then Josephine led the way along the path, along which Godfrey and his friends had carried her to the priest’s staircase. The others followed in single file without saying a word. The grass had been cut; here and there stood large haycocks.