Addendum: around the same time I read "The Hand," I read a couple of other stories. Maybe they were in the same collection, I don't know. One was about a rose quartz bell that acted like a monkey's paw. The other was about a man being chased by a vengeful ghost; he knew it was close because the vengeful ghost had a club foot and when he walked, it made a terrible hissing, dragging sound with its limp.
I remember the vengeful ghost one because, the next Saturday morning I woke up to that very same hissing, dragging sound, and it scared me so badly I wet my own bed (I was only eight). Of course it wasn't a limping ghost, it was my mother tearing cloth in the front room (squaring the selvedges of some cloth she was going to be sewing with later that day).