She looked in the obvious places, in the storeroom just off the kitchen, in the cellar, then in the house itself, in Mac's room and through his things, and even in the attic, though she knew it couldn't be there. She became frantic then, paced by the alien's necessity for his hand, and did not bother to straighten things up after she looked. It simply couldn't be in the house. But where else? She went out and told the alien she could not find it but that she would look in the barn.
In the end she could find it nowhere and when she told the alien he seemed as disappointed as she.
"I have seen you searching," he said. "I want to thank you for your trouble."
"I'm awfully sorry," she said. "I don't know where Mac could have hid it. When he comes home I'll ask him."
"I'll wait for him," the alien said. "It's imperative we have the hand. It is the only thing standing in the way of our leaving your planet. Your husband will know where it is and return it to us."
"I'm sure he will," she said, hoping she was right but knowing how stubborn Mac could be. Then she got to worrying about what would happen if he would refuse and as she went back to the house with Dobie at her side she was overcome with the shakes.
She did not get her composure back until she had drunk a cup of steaming hot coffee. Then she looked at the clock, saw it was eleven and that she had spent nearly two hours looking for the hand. She saw, too, that the figure was still in the yard, standing there motionless, like something carved out of stone.
Her husband drove in at mid-night and it seemed an eternity between the time the engine stopped and he entered the house.
From the way he looked at her he was surprised to find her still in the kitchen.
"You still up?" His face was flushed, his tongue thick.