A few moments later the entire cabin was strewn with salvers, goblets, bowls, epergnes, gold and silver dishes, plates, cups, knives, forks, and almost every example of the goldsmith’s art. In his choice Carne was not guided by what was handsomest or most delicate in workmanship or shape. Weight was his only standard. Silver he discarded altogether, for it was of less than no account. In something under ten minutes he had made his selection, and the stout canvas bags they had brought with them for that purpose were full to their utmost holding capacity. "We can carry no more," said Carne to his faithful retainer, as they made the mouth of the last bag secure. "Pick up yours and let us get back to the Emperor’s stateroom." Having locked the door of the cabin, they returned to the place whence they had started. There they found the unfortunate steward lying on the settee. Placing the bags he carried upon the ground, Carne crossed to him, and, before doing anything else, carefully examined the bonds with which he was secured. Having done this, he went to the stern windows, and, throwing one open, stepped into the gallery outside. Fortunately for what he intended to do, it was still raining heavily, and in consequence the night was as dark as the most consummate conspirator could have desired. Returning to the room, he bade Belton help him carry the bags into the gallery, and, when this had been done, made fast the swivel-hooks to the rings in the mouth of each. "Take up your bags as quietly as possible," he said, "and lower them one by one into the water, but take care that they don’t get entangled in the propeller. When you’ve done that, slip the rings at the other end of the lines through your belt, and buckle the latter tightly." Belton did as he was ordered, and in a few moments the six bags were lying at the bottom of the sea. "Now off with these wigs and things, and say when you’re ready for a swim." Their disguises having been discarded and thrown overboard, Carne and Belton clambered over the rails of the gallery and lowered themselves until their feet touched the water. Next moment they had both let go, and were swimming in the direction of Carne’s own yacht. Much exhausted, they reached the yacht’s stern and clutched at the rope ladder which Carne had himself placed there before he had set out on the evening’s excursion. In less time than it takes to tell, he had mounted it and gained the deck, followed by his faithful servant. They presented a sorry spectacle as they stood side by side at the taffrail, the water dripping from their clothes and pattering upon the deck. "Thank goodness we are here at last," said Carne, as soon as he had recovered his breath sufficiently to speak. "Now slip off your belt, and hang it over this cleat with mine."