For a time George steered a zigzag course, the vehicle swaying hither and thither with the constantly changing displacement of the rudder. George wanted to make it appear that he was trying to break through to the Swiss shore, but he, too, was excited by the searchlights. He did not succeed in getting out of their glare for more than a few moments at a time. The boat which was astern only went so slowly now because it was solely concerned with keeping them under view and cutting off their retreat to the German shore. The Morse signals used were secret ones, and neither Mabuse nor George could make them out although, through their frequent trips by water, they were fairly well acquainted with such things. Suddenly the boat to the starboard side of them extinguished its searchlight. Above the infernal noise made by their own motor they could hear the engine of this boat ahead, its sound growing shriller and nearer. Their own motor was exerting its utmost pressure. The shooting had now ceased, and above the sounds made by their boat another noise could be heard. Mabuse bent forward towards it, listening with all his ears, the searchlight falling full upon him. He still wore the police uniform which had made his escape possible. At first the Countess had lain in the boat half-conscious. The shots, the droning of the engines, the haste and excitement of the men beside her, had gradually awakened her, and she began to grasp what was happening. She, too, heard, above the throbbing of the engines, a second sound. She sat up, holding her head over the side whence it came, and listened intently. “What is that?” she asked Mabuse, who was standing near, planted firmly on the deck with his back to the engine and appearing entirely at ease. He could be clearly seen in the searchlight with his hand on the gunwale, listening intently. “Nothing!” he hissed; “be quiet!” “What is it?” she asked again in a sharper tone, and there was something in the sound of her voice that had not been heard for a long time. It seemed as if a stone that had long lain at her heart were now being dissolved into a mass of pulp. To this feeling, still but half-conscious, she yielded herself more and more. By degrees she appeared to realize what was happening within her. Then, rising and standing in front of Mabuse, she suddenly cried out, “Now, at last....” The sounds of the water and the night stole over her like a joy beyond bound or measure. Eagerly she absorbed with heart and mind the light, sweet rustle they made, and she perceived that every moment they became more pronounced. At last she understood. The pursuer was advancing rapidly upon them, and came ever nearer.... “What do you mean by that ‘at last’?” asked Mabuse roughly. “Sit down and keep quiet!” “What is that sound we hear?” she said in a ringing voice. “Death--perhaps!” answered Mabuse calmly.