The noise of oars, which had been continually drawing nearer during the dialogue, ceased. They knew by this that the boat had arrived at the base of the cliff.
“Your vehicle waits below. You can go, Rantaine.”
Rantaine advanced towards the steps of stones, and rapidly disappeared.
Clubin moved cautiously towards the edge of the escarpment, and watched him descending.
The boat had stopped near the last stage of the rocks, at the very spot where the coast-guardman had fallen.
Still observing Rantaine stepping from stone to stone, Clubin muttered:
“A good number 619. He thought himself alone. Rantaine thought there were only two there. I alone knew that there were three.”
He perceived at his feet the telescope which had dropped from the hands of the coast-guardman.
The sound of oars was heard again. Rantaine had stepped into the boat, and the rowers had pushed out to sea.
When Rantaine was safely in the boat, and the cliff was beginning to recede from his eyes, he arose again abruptly. His features were convulsed with rage; he clenched his fist and cried: