They all leaned over and read together:--

"You have all lost again. Why not give it up? You can never win.

"THE HANDS."

Lenora was perhaps the calmest. She simply nodded with the melancholy air
of satisfaction of one who finds her preconceived ideas confirmed.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed softly. "I knew it at the depot. Craig's time
has not come yet. He may be somewhere near us, even now."

She glanced uneasily around the ward. Quest, who had been examining the
post-mark on the package, threw the papers down.

"The post-mark's all blurred out," he remarked. "There's no doubt about
it, that fellow Craig has the devil's own luck, but we'll get him--we'll
get him yet. I'll just take a stroll up to police head-quarters and make a
few inquiries. You might come with me, Lenora, and Laura can get busy with
her amateur nursing."

"I shall make inquiries," the Professor announced briskly, "concerning the
local museum. There should be interesting relics hereabouts of the
prehistoric Indians."

3.

A man sat on the steps of the range cook wagon, crouching as far back as
possible to take advantage of its slight shelter from the burning sun. He
held before him a newspaper, a certain paragraph of which he was eagerly
devouring. In the distance the mail boy was already disappearing in a
cloud of dust.

"FAMOUS CRIMINOLOGIST IN ALLGUEZ

"Sanford Quest and his assistants, accompanied by Professor Lord
Ashleigh, arrived in Allguez a few days ago to look for John
Craig, formerly servant to the scientist. Craig has not been
seen since the accident to the Limited, a fortnight ago, and by
many is supposed to have perished in the wreck. He was in the
charge of Inspector French, and was on his way to New York to
stand his trial for homicide. French was taken to the hospital,
suffering from concussion of the brain, but is now
convalescent."

The man read the paragraph twice. Then he set down the paper and looked
steadily across the rolling prairie land. There was a queer, bitter little
smile upon his lips.

"So it begins again!" he muttered.

There was a cloud of dust in the distance. The man rose to his feet,
shaded his eyes with his hand and shambled round to the back of the wagon,
where a long table was set out with knives and forks, hunches of bread and
tin cups. He walked a little further away to the fire, and slowly stirred
a pot of stew. The little party of cowboys c