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ceased, leaving us in complete silence below deck. We heard it straight
away, the soft whirr of a vessel on the starboard side. To our surprise, it seemed to be
approaching.
    Sam and Rodrigo leapt up immediately and rushed to the deck. The rest of us followed. I
was more curious than alarmed; after what I had just experienced, I could afford to take a few
things in my stride.
    A warm gust dispelled the lingering chill as the five of us stood, bunched, to observe the
vessel. A dense fog bank rolled in from the north, concealing the strange boat completely. Would
she steer close enough for us to identify her at all? A hundred yards apart is a thousand leagues
astray in the grip of an impenetrable sea mist.
    "Best not take any chances," said Sam to Rodrigo.
    " Sí ," replied the Cuban, making immediately for his cabin, from where
he delivered a double blast of the yacht's horn. There was no reply. Again, he made our presence
known. No reply. On the first boom of the third call, however, a slightly higher-pitched echo
overlapped, prompting us to listen more carefully. After a few seconds, a loud reply volleyed
through the fog.
    "Well, at least she knows where we are," Sam explained.
    No sooner had he finished when Dumitrescu pointed through the mist.
    "Yes!" he said, guiding our eyes to a trail of light which seeped through the edge of the
bank. "There she is!"
    Sam Croft, ever wont to take the initiative, cupped his hands over his mouth to deliver a
second course of maritime etiquette. " Ahoy! "
    A deep, accented voice responded in kind from across the gulf. I winced as I recognized
the awful timbre, and the man to match. It was none other than my Highland colleague,
MacDuff.
    "Oh, boy," Ethel mumbled, "we've got some explaining to do."
    "What do you mean?" I replied.
    "He's been sniffing around for the past five days or so, diving at a none-too-discreet
distance, though we haven't seen him for a while. No doubt he heard about your disappearance.
Who knows, perhaps he's just been waiting for us to leave. But something tells me he won't
swallow your resurrection without a dose of skepticism. What shall we say?"
    "Whatever it is, there's no accounting for me being here, at the very place where I
vanished. Not after eight days."
    The yacht drew nearer and I could think of no viable story. Dumitrescu then stepped in.
"Let me handle this."
    As the Scotsman maneuvered his vessel alongside ours, Dumitrescu leapt across with
great agility.
    The Romanian spent a good ten minutes aboard with MacDuff, and though out of earshot
I felt I could translate every tick and turn of their interactions, so much importance had I attached
to the Scotsman's presence.
    Had I left the time machine for him to find? Had I interfered with its camouflage
somehow, rendering it more visible?
    Might his party have the same urge I had had--to wander down for a closer inspection of
the sea bed?
    Could I risk him discovering it? I thought not. But what could any of us do if he
stayed in the vicinity, or even chose to dive there and then?
    Whatever Dumitrescu told him, I could not afford to leave the time machine unguarded.
Not for another moment.
    Suddenly, the hairs on my neck bristled with excitement. I gasped and, studying my
friends in turn, tried to figure which of them might participate, that night, in an impromptu
getaway... Through time...

Chapter 5
    Dumitrescu, ever the diplomat, neither smiled nor frowned as he jumped back aboard. I
was surprised to see MacDuff wave to us as he disengaged; to my knowledge, the gesture was a
new one in his repertoire. Despite waving back, I was unmoved.
    "You see, even a snake can be charmed," whispered Sam.
    "But the venom can't," replied Ethel.
    "I don't like it," I said. "He suspects something."
    Dumitrescu nodded. "I told him how you had drifted too far after being injured, and were
lucky to happen upon a fishing boat that second day, and how they barely managed to revive you.
Then, just as you said, he enquired as to