Adderley sank down again upon the settee.
“My God!” he whispered, “his hand! His hand! He has sent me his hand!”
He began laughing. Whereupon, since I could see that the man was practically hysterical because of his mysterious fears:
“Stop that,” I said sharply. “Pull yourself together, Adderley. What the deuce is the matter with you?”
“Take it away!” he moaned, “take it away. Take the accursed thing away!”
“I admit it is an unpleasant gift to send to anybody,” I said, “but probably you know more about it than I do.”
“Take it away,” he repeated. “Take it away, for God's sake, take it away, Knox!”
He was quite beyond reason, and therefore:
“Very well,” I said, and wrapped the casket in the brown paper in which it had come. “What do you want me to do with it?”
“Throw it in the river,” he answered. “Burn it. Do anything you like with it, but take it out of my sight!”