Clear of the bushes, on the summit stood the person they wanted, looking down at them apparently, but never a word said she, nor did she make sign or gesture. She just stared.
Christobel waved her handkerchief, waved her hat, joined in Adrian's shout:
"Go--ing!"
Anyone could have heard much farther off than the cliff top. True, it was high, but the scene was so still, the waves but a ripple, and the wind a breath.
"She's mad," announced Adrian; "she's raving, Crow. I told you she was. If she isn't coming, why can't she answer? I must say this positively passes--well, never mind--get in--we'll go. If she comes down I'll fetch her off, but I shall certainly tell her what I think. Otherwise she can walk home."
"I don't understand," said Crow.
"Of course you don't. People are not expected to understand lunatics." Adrian said that and a few more things more pointed than flattering on the way out to the yawl.
Meanwhile Pamela sat down on the edge of the cliff and watched them with apparent interest.
By that time the light was beginning to turn into shadow.
"I suppose it couldn't be anyone else!" ventured Christobel, twisting round in the stern seat to look up at the motionless watcher.