"I’ll wait for Price and O’Shaunessey," thought Hythe, and still keeping his face towards the unknown diver he laboriously retraced his steps. As he did so the stranger did likewise. "I wonder----" thought the sub, and raising his right arm he saw the unknown diver simultaneously raise his left. Hythe was confronted by a magnified reflection of himself. The sides of the submarine were made of a mirror-like substance. Keeping a respectful distance from the submerged craft Hythe walked towards, but parallel to, the bows. Presently he became aware that he was passing under the lowermost edge of the net, that, with elongated meshes, was stretched tightly across the upper portion of the stem of the submarine. Since nothing had attempted to molest him, Hythe’s sense of confidence rose. "No, they wouldn’t dare play the fool now," he reasoned. "There’s no escape for them, and they will make the best of a bad job by surrendering at discretion as soon as the lighters sling her clear of the bottom. I wonder where her cable is?" No signs of the submarine’s anchor and chain were visible. There were hawse-pipes--two on the starboard bow and one on the port bow, but in none of them was a stockless anchor, or indeed one of any description. The hawsepipes were partly concealed by the nets, but the meshes were sufficiently distended to make the sub certain on that point. Keeping his eyes fixed upon the ground Hythe walked on, thinking that, from the position of the vessel, he would eventually stumble over an anchor and chain lying half-buried in the sand. At length he came to the limit of his life-line, his search unrewarded. "That’s completely stumped me--middle wicket, by Jove!" he muttered. "A looking-glass submarine fixed as tight as a limpet to the sand, and not an anchor to be seen! All in good time, I suppose. When we get her into Plymouth we’ll find out all we want to learn soon enough." With that he turned and began to make his way round the submarine once more. "Oh, there’s O’Shaunessey!" he said to himself, as a huge helmeted figure came shambling along through the semi-transparent water. "I wonder what---- Great Scott!" Arnold Hythe came to an abrupt stop. The diver approaching him was not O’Shaunessey. The Irishman’s helmet was provided with an air-tube, and a life-line encircled his chest; this fellow had neither. He was one of the crew of Captain Restronguet’s submarine. The sub was not devoid of personal courage. The sight of the strange diver advancing in his direction aroused all the bull-dog fighting instinct in him. "All right, my fine fellow!" he muttered. "I’ll see if I can’t tackle you." Unhesitatingly he advanced towards the stranger. The latter, pausing a brief instant, held up one hand as if warning off his rival, but seeing that Hythe was intent upon grappling with him he stood on his guard.