Swaine proceeded on the submarine work alone. Although glad of Villier's company, he realized that the latter was far from being fit for the strenuous toil demanded of a diver. He, Swaine, could do sufficient work below to keep the surface-party busy, and the task of recovering the treasure was now within measureable distance of conclusion. It was yet early. The morning mists had not entirely dispersed when Swaine waded into the water, awkwardly at first, but with more freedom as the leaden-weighted suit dipped beneath the surface. Swaine wasted no time in getting on board the wreck and setting to work. He had now a fair amount of elbow-room, since most of the metal-lined boxes had been removed, and a thousand pounds worth of gold was being sent up every five minutes. He felt in fine fettle and, to use his own expression, "full of beans". So intent was he upon his task that the time slipped by rapidly, until a slight buzzing noise in his ears warned him that the self-contained air-reservoir was not far off a state of exhaustion. In fifteen minutes the supply would be "dud", and it usually took him twenty minutes to reach the shore. He "knocked off" in a hurry; at the same time, he realized that if things came to a pitch he could blow himself to the surface. This he was loth to do, as the sudden ascent generally incapacitated a diver for several hours. Slipping over the side of the wreck and grasping the guide-rope, Swaine began to make his way ashore as rapidly as the resistance of the water permitted. "Current's frightfully strong to-day," he soliloquized, as the rush of water almost swept his feet from under him. As it was, he had to hang on like grim death to the rope and haul himself along hand over hand until he had crossed the track of the submarine stream. Here the lagoon shoaled considerably. There was sufficient depth to allow a pale-green light to penetrate to five or six fathoms of water, while visibility increased a distance of ten or twelve feet. Happening to turn his head within the immobile helmet and to glance through the side plate-glass window, Swaine came to a sudden halt and gave a gasp of surprise. Within three yards of him, and floundering along on a slightly converging course, was a man in a self-contained diver's suit. "So Villiers has got into harness after all," he thought. "Wonder how he came to lose touch with the direction-rope?" He raised one hand in greeting, at the same time holding up the rope that served as a guide between the wreck and the shore. Then to his utter astonishment he discovered that it was not Jack Villiers, nor indeed any of the _Titania's_ men, indulging in a little submarine expedition. The diving-dress was different in certain details.