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.