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?"