with breaking voice.

They all looked at one another.

"Craig must be here amongst us," Quest muttered.

"And the bouillon," Lenora cried, clasping Quest's arm, "the bouillon was
meant for you!"...

There seemed to be, somehow, amongst all of them, a curious indisposition
to discuss this matter. Suddenly Lenora, who was sitting on the lounge
underneath the porthole, put out her hand and picked up a card which was
lying by her side. She glanced at it, at first curiously. Then she
shrieked.

"A message!" she cried. "A message from the Hands! Look!"

They crowded around her. In that same familiar handwriting was scrawled
across the face of the card these few words--

"To Sanford Quest.

"You have escaped this time by a chance of fortune, not because
your wits are keen, not because of your own shrewdness; simply
because Fate willed it. It will not be for long."

Underneath was the drawing of the clenched hands.

"There is no longer any doubt," Lenora said calmly. "Craig is on board. He
must have been on deck a few minutes ago. It was his hand which placed
this card in the porthole.... Listen! What's that?"

There was a scream from the deck. They all recognised Laura's voice.
Harris was out of the stateroom first but they were all on deck within ten
seconds. Laura was standing with one hand clasping the rail, her hand
fiercely outstretched towards the lower part of the promenade deck.
Through the darkness they heard the sound of angry voices.

"What is it, Laura?" Lenora cried.

She swung round upon them.

"Craig!" she cried. "Craig! I saw his face as I sat in my chair there,
talking to the Captain. I saw a man's white face--nothing else. He must
have been leaning over the rail. He heard me call out and he disappeared."

The Captain came slowly out of the shadows, limping a little and followed
by his steward, who was murmuring profuse apologies.

"Did you find him?" Laura demanded eagerly.

"I did not," the Captain replied, a little tersely. "I ran into Brown here
and we both had a shake-up."

"But he was there--a second ago!" Laura cried out.

"I beg your pardon, miss," Brown ventured, "but the deck's closed at the
end, as you can see, with sail-cloth, and I was leaning over the rail
myself when you shrieked. There wasn't any one else near me, and no one
can possibly have passed round the deck, as you can see plainly for
yourself."

Laura stood quite still.

"What doors are there