They read it
together:
"Fools, all of you! The cunning of the ages defeats your puny
efforts at every turn.
"THE HANDS!"
Even the Professor's lips blanched a little as he read. Quest, however,
seemed suddenly furious. He tore the card and the box to pieces, flung
them into a corner of the tent and drew a revolver from his pocket.
"This time," he exclaimed, "we are going to make an end of the Hands! Out
you go now, girls. You can leave me to finish things up."
One by one they stole along the path. Quest came out and watched them
disappear. Then he gripped his revolver firmly in his hand and turned
towards Craig's tent. There was something in the breathless stillness of
the place, at that moment, which seemed almost a presage of coming
disaster. Without knowing exactly why, Quest's fingers tightened on the
butt of his weapon. Then, from the thick growth by the side of the
clearing, he saw a dark shape steal out and vanish in the direction of
Craig's tent. He came to a standstill, puzzled. There had been rumours of
lions all day, but the Professor had been incredulous. The nature of the
country, he thought, scarcely favoured the probability of their presence.
Then the still, heavy air was suddenly rent by a wild scream of horror.
Across the narrow opening the creature had reappeared, carrying something
in its mouth, something which gave vent all the time to the most awful
yells. Quest fired his revolver on chance and broke into a run.
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