He was deadly cold, but had hardly noticed the fact. It was all
so incredible, so impossible. He expected to wake up and wondered
if the prison was also part of the dream.

Now he saw the point for which Kara was making.

A white steam yacht, long and narrow of beam, was steaming slowly
westward. He could see the feathery wake in her rear, and as the
aeroplane fell he had time to observe that a boat had been put
off. Then with a jerk the monoplane flattened out and came like a
skimming bird to the surface of the water; her engines stopped.

"We ought to be able to keep afloat for ten minutes," said Kara,
"and by that time they will pick us up."

His voice was high and harsh in the almost painful silence which
followed the stoppage of the engines.

In less than five minutes the boat had come alongside, manned, as
Lexman gathered from a glimpse of the crew, by Greeks. He
scrambled aboard and five minutes later he was standing on the
white deck of the yacht, watching the disappearing tail of the
monoplane. Kara was by his side.

"There goes fifteen hundred pounds," said the Greek, with a smile,
"add that to the two thousand I paid the warder and you have a
tidy sum-but some things are worth all the money in the world!"