All my medical instincts rose up against that laugh.
“Stop it!” I cried; “pull yourself together!” and I poured out some water from a carafe.
It was useless, however. He was off in one of those hysterical outbursts which come upon a strong nature when some great crisis is over and gone.
Presently he came to himself once more, very weary and pale-looking.
“I have been making a fool of myself,” he gasped.
“Not at all. Drink this.”
I dashed some brandy into the water, and the colour began to come back to his bloodless cheeks.
“That’s better!” said he. “And now, Doctor, perhaps you would kindly attend to my thumb, or rather to the place where my thumb used to be.”
He unwound the handkerchief and held out his hand. It gave even my hardened nerves a shudder to look at it. There were four protruding fingers and