She heard the Professor running after her.
"Ann," he called, "Ann! Stay! This is—most—unnecessary!"
She flew on.
"At least take the lift!" bawled the Professor.
She hurried on and reached the steps, pausing an instant to glance back.
The Professor had stopped at the lift, and was waving to her with his umbrella.
She could never remember running down those steps. In what seemed but a moment from the time she reached them, she found herself stumbling painfully down the steep slope of shingle to the water's edge.
The lift, bearing the Professor, had just begun to crawl down the face of the cliff. She could see him gesticulating through the glass windows.
The crowd on the shore, chiefly composed of rough men, was thickest round the base of a wide stone breakwater, jutting out into the sea. On this break-water stood an empty stretcher. A coast-guardsman marched up and down, keeping the crowd off the breakwater.
Christobel reached the outskirts of the crowd, and could get no farther.