y to interrupt. At the same time it grew annoying. The door
was taking on the look of a sieve, and the neighbourhood of the
deadlights, Lanyard's sole avenue of escape, was being well peppered.
Something would have to be done about it...

Lanyard completed his preparations by kicking off his shoes and taking
up another notch in the belt that supported his trousers. If the swim
before him proved a long one, he could get rid of his garments in the
water readily enough; if on the other hand the shore proved to be close
at hand, it would be more convenable to land at least half clothed.

Then--the fusillade continuing without intermission save when the man
outside stopped long enough to extract an empty clip and replace it
with one loaded--Lanyard edged along the partition to the door,
calculated the stand of the lunatic in the saloon from the angle at
which the bullets were coming through, and emptied the pistol he had
taken from Phinuit at the panels as fast as he could pull trigger.

There was no more firing...

He tossed aside the empty weapon, made sure of Popinot's on his hip,
approached one of the deadlights, placed a chair, climbed upon it, and
with infinite pains managed to wriggle and squirm head and shoulders
through the opening. It was very fortunate for him indeed that the
Sybarite happened to have been built for pleasure yachting, with
deadlights uncommonly large for the sake of air and light, else he
would have been obliged to run the risk of opening the door to the
saloon and fighting his way out and up to the deck.

As it was, the business was difficult enough. He had to work one of his
arms out after his shoulders and then, twisting round, strain and claw
at the smooth overhang of the stern until able to catch the outer lip
of the scuppers above.

After that he had to lift and drag the rest of him out through the
deadlight and, hanging by fingertips, work his way round, inch by inch,
until it seemed possible to drop into the sea and escape hitting the
screw.

In point of fact, he barely missed splitting himself in two on the
thing, and on coming to the surface clung to it while taking such
observations as one might in that befogged blackness.

Impossible to guess which way to strike out: the fog hung low upon the
water, greying its smooth, gently heaving black surface, he could see
nothing on either beam.

At length, however, he heard through the hissing uproar of escaping
steam a mournful bell