The German accompanied him to the seaplane. He might be supposed to be indulging his curiosity. Standing between him and the knoll, Burton said-- "You are interested in aviation. Seat yourself on the right-hand float." The spy made as if to turn round. Burton lifted his revolver. "Don’t waste time," he said. With a groan the spy sat on the spot indicated. Burton seized the strap that bound him to his seat, and rapidly tied the German to the upright connecting the float with the body of the seaplane, calling to Hunter--who, still lying on the ground, had watched these proceedings with excitement--to cover the spy with his revolver. The prisoner had hardly been secured when the Turkish captain cantered over the knoll, followed by two or three men. "Now, Dick!" cried Burton. Hunter sprang up and rushed to his place. "Not there!" said Burton. "Get on to the left-hand float to balance the machine." Meanwhile he had started the engine, in desperate anxiety lest it should not have gathered momentum before the Turks came up. The spy had heard the thudding of their horses’ hoofs as they, seeing the supposed English prisoner spring up, galloped down the knoll. Turning his head, he let out a frenzied shout. But it was too late. Burton had vaulted into his seat, and, just three seconds before the amazed and furious Turks reached the brink of the water, the seaplane was skimming the surface. The spy was now filling the air with his frantic cries. Burton afterwards said it was like the booming of a buzzard. The Turks dismounted, and from the edge of the lake fired at the fast-receding machine. One or two shots pierced the planes, and from a shrill cry of terror from the German, Burton supposed that he had been hit. But he was too busy to think of him. Forcing the engine to the utmost he was already manipulating the elevator. The machine rose steadily. At the first possible moment Burton swung it round to the west. In a minute or two he crossed the Maritza. Climbing ever higher, he shifted his course a point or two to the south, and within twenty minutes the machine swooped down beside the cruiser, a few miles out in the bay, and a number of laughing bluejackets hastened to assist two dripping objects to climb on board. [Illustration: A discomfited spy] IV The cruiser made all speed back to Tenedos. There the spy, a forlorn, chapfallen individual, was taken ashore under an escort of marines. Within a short time a drum-head court-martial was constituted. Papers found on the prisoner left no doubt of his occupation; his protest that he was a subject of King Constantine availed him nothing. When the sentence had been pronounced, he recovered his courage and confessed himself a German, and it was as a German soldier that he paid the final penalty.