FIND AND BRING TO JUSTICE, THE
CRIMINAL."]

He, too, approached the bed and reverently lifted the covering. Lord
Ashleigh was lying there, his body a little doubled up, his arms wide
outstretched. On his throat were two black marks.

"Where is the valet--Williams?" Quest asked, as he turned away.

The man came forward.

"Tell us at once what you know?" Quest demanded.

"I came in, as usual, to call his lordship before I called you," the man
replied. "He did not answer, but I thought, perhaps, that he was sleepy. I
filled his bath, which, as you see, opens out of the room, and then came
to attend on you. When you went down to breakfast, I returned to his
lordship's room expecting to find him dressed. Instead of that the room
was silent, the bath still unused. I spoke to him--there was no answer.
Then I lifted the sheet!"

They had led Lady Ashleigh from the room. The Professor and Quest stood
face to face. The former's expression, however, had lost all his amiable
serenity. His face was white and pinched. He looked shrivelled up. It was
as though some physical stroke had fallen upon him.

"Quest! Quest!" he almost sobbed. "My brother!--George, whom I loved like
nobody else on earth! Is he really dead?"

"Absolutely!"

The Professor gripped the oak pillar of the bedstead. He seemed on the
point of collapse.

"The mark of the Hands is upon his throat," Quest pointed out.

"The Hands! Oh, my God!" the Professor groaned.

"We must not eat or drink or sleep," Quest declared fiercely, "until we
have brought this matter to an end. Craig must be found. This is the
supreme horror of all. Pull yourself together, Mr. Ashleigh. We shall need
every particle of intelligence we possess. I begin to think that we are
fighting against something superhuman."

The butler made an apologetic appearance. He spoke in a hushed whisper.

"You are wanted downstairs, gentlemen. Middleton, the head-keeper, is
there."

As though inspired with a common idea, both Quest and the Professor
hurried out of the room and down the broad stairs. Their inspiration was a
true one. The gamekeeper welcomed them with a smile of triumph. By his
side, the picture of abject misery, his clothes torn and muddy, was Craig!

"I've managed this little job, sir," Middleton announced, with a smile of
slow triumph.

"How did you get him?" Quest demanded.

"Little idea of my own," the gamekeeper continued. "I guessed pretty well
what he'd be up to. He'd