“No lights,” he said. “Somebody would see it moving about on the cliff and start gossiping about it. Have the servants gone to bed?” “Yes,” said Rufus d’Estiers. “And Clarice?” “She must be upstairs. We haven’t seen anything of her,” said Rolleville. “As a matter of fact, she’s a little out of sorts to-day,” said the Baron. “Let’s be getting off.” D’Ormont and Rolleville took the handles of the stretcher. They crossed the park and then a field to the lane which led from the village to the priest’s staircase. The starless sky was black with heavy clouds; and in the darkness the little procession, practically feeling its way, stumbled over ruts and banks. Curses kept slipping out; the Baron d’Etigues angrily hushed them. “Will you stop that noise, confound you!” he muttered savagely. “Somebody will recognize our voices!” “Who will recognize our voices, Godfrey? There’s absolutely nobody about, for you took your precautions with regard to the coast-guards,” de Bennetot protested. “Yes, they’re safe enough. They’re at the inn, guests of a man I can rely on. Nevertheless it’s just possible that a patrol is making its round.” There came a depression in the plateau which the road followed. Then it rose again; and they made their way as best they might to the spot at which the staircase rose to the top of the cliff. It had been hollowed out of the cliff many years before on the suggestion of a priest of Benouville, in order that the country people might descend to the beach. It was lighted by openings cut through the chalk. Through them there were magnificent views of the sea, whose waves were dashing against the rocks below, and into which one seemed to be on the point of plunging. “It’s going to be a difficult job, to get that stretcher down those steps,” said Rolleville. “We’d better help you. At any rate we can light the staircase for you.” “No,” said the Baron with decision. “It is wiser to separate. So back you get.” The three of them obeyed without further protest. The Baron lighted a bull’s-eye lantern; and without any delay the two cousins set about the difficult task of getting the stretcher down the staircase. It proved a long job. The steps were steep and the turnings in the cliff were sometimes so narrow that they were compelled to raise the stretcher right on end to get it round them. The little lamp afforded but a feeble light that illumined but a few steps at a time. De Bennetot soon lost his temper, and to such a degree that with the natural brutality of a badly brought up boor he proposed simply to “chuck the whole thing down,” that is to say, to push the unfortunate girl, litter and all, through one of the openings in the chalk.