“Not me! It doesn’t seem real now; more like a nightmare, but it was terrible enough at the time.”
“I can prove it wasn’t a nightmare,” chuckled Vic. “Come along, and I’ll show you something you missed.” He led the way to the laboratory, and unlocked a drawer, one of several, beneath the work table.
“I found this on the floor of the machine,” he said. “Didn’t notice it until later. The rays of the machine caught it and brought it back with us; made it solid matter, as we know it here. Do you recognize it?”
I nodded, shuddering. There was no possibility of mistake.
In a squat, clear bottle of alcohol that Vic had taken from the drawer was a sinister, claw-like brown hand, severed cleanly at the wrist.