The Monkey's Paw
W. W. Jacobs
Without, the night was
cold and wet, but in the small parlor of Lakesnam Villa the blinds were
drawn and the fire burned brightly. Father and son were at chess, the
former, who possessed ideas about the game involving radical changes,
putting his king into suchm sharp and unnecessary perils that it even
provoked comment from the whitehaired old lady knitting placidly by the
fire.
"Hark at the wind," said Mr. White, who, having seen a fatal
mistake after it was too late, was amiably desirous of preventing his
son from seeing it.
"I'm listening," said the latter, grimly surveying the board as he stretched out his hand. "Check."
"I should hardly think that he'd come tonight," said his father, with his hand poised over the board.
"Mate," replied the son.
"That's
the worst of living so far out," bawled Mr. White, with sudden and
unlooked-for violence; "of all the beastly, slushy, out-of-the-way
places to live in, this is the worst. Pathway's a bog, and the road's a
torrent. I don't know what people are thinking about. I suppose because
only two houses on the road are let, they think it doesn't matter."
"Never mind, dear," said his wife soothingly; "perhaps you'll win the next one."
Mr.
White looked up sharply, just in time to intercept a knowing glance
between mother and son. The words died away on his lips, and he hid a
guilty grin in his thin grey beard.
"There he is," said Herbert White, as the gate banged to loudly and heavy footsteps came toward the door.
The
old man rose with hospitable haste, and opening the door, was heard
condoling with the new arrival. The new arrival also condoled with
himself, so that Mrs. White said, "Tut, tut!" and coughed gently as her
husband entered the room, followed by a tall, burly man, beady of eye
and rubicund of visage.
"Sergeant Major Morris," he said, introducing him.
The
sergeant major shook hands, and taking the proffered seat by the fire,
watched contentedly while his host got out whisky and tumblers and stood
a small copper kettle on the fire.
At the third glass his eyes
got brighter, and he began to talk, the little family circle regarding
with eager interest this visitor from distant parts, as he squared his
broad shoulders in the chair and spoke of strange scenes and doughty
deeds, of wars and plagues and strange peoples.
"Twenty-one years
of it," said Mr. White, nodding at his wife and son. "When he went away
he was a slip of a youth in the warehouse. Now look at him."
"He
don't look to have taken much harm," said Mrs. White politely. "I'd like
to go to India myself," said the old man, "just to look round a bit,
you know."
"Better where you are," said the sergeant major,
shaking his head. He put down the empty glass, and sighing softly, shook
it again.
"I should like to see those old temples and fakirs and
jugglers," said the old man. "What was that you started telling me the
other day about a monkey's paw or something, Morris?"
"Nothing," said the soldier hastily. "Leastways, nothing worth hearing."
"Monkey's paw?" said Mrs. White curiously.
"Well, it's just a bit of what you might call magic, perhaps," said the sergeant major offhandedly.
His
three listeners leaned forward eagerly. The visitor absentmindedly put
his empty glass to his lips and then set it down again. His host filled
it for him.
"To look at," said the sergeant major, fumbling in his pocket, "it's just an ordinary little paw, dried to a mummy."
He
took something out of his pocket and proffered it. Mrs. White drew back
with a grimace, but her son, taking it, examined it curiously.
"And
what is there special about it?" inquired Mr. White, as he took it from
his son, and having examined it, placed it upon the table.
"It
had a spell put on it by an old fakir," said the sergeant major, "a very
holy man. He wanted to show that fate ruled people's lives, and that
those who interfered with it did so to their sorrow. He put a spell on
it so that three separate men could each have three wishes from it."
His manner was so impressive that his hearers were conscious that their light laughter jarred somewhat.
"Well, why don't you have three, sir?" said Herbert White cleverly.
The
soldier regarded him in the way that middle age is wont to regard
presumptuous youth. "I have," he said quietly, and his blotchy face
whitened.
"And did you really have the three wishes granted?" asked Mrs. White.
"I did," said the sergeant major, and his glass tapped against his strong teeth.
"And has anybody else wished?" inquired the old lady.
"The
first man had his three wishes, yes," was the reply. "I don't know what
the first two were, but the third was for death. That's how I got the
paw."
His tones were so grave that a hush fell upon the group.
"If you've had your three wishes, it's no good to you now, then, Morris," said the old man at last. "What do you keep it for?"
The
soldier shook his head. "Fancy, I suppose," he said slowly. "I did have
some idea of selling it, but I don't think I will. It has caused enough
mischief already. Besides, people won't buy. They think it's a fairy
tale, some of them, and those who do think anything of it want to try it
first and pay me afterward."
"If you could have another three wishes," said the old man, eyeing him keenly, "would you have them?"
"I don't know," said the other. "I don't know."
He
took the paw, and dangling it between his front finger and thumb,
suddenly threw it upon the fire. White, with a slight cry, stooped down
and snatched it off.
"Better let it burn," said the soldier solemnly.
"If you don't want it, Morris," said the old man, "give it to me."
"I
won't," said his friend doggedly. "I threw it on the fire. If you keep
it, don't blame me for what happens. Pitch it on the fire again, like a
sensible man."
The other shook his head and examined his new possession closely. "How do you do it?" he inquired.
"Hold it up in your right hand and wish aloud," said the sergeant major, "but I warn you of the consequences."
"Sounds
like the Arabian Nights," said Mrs. White, as she rose and began to set
the supper. "Don't you think you might wish for four pairs of hands for
me?"
Her husband drew the talisman from his pocket and then all
three burst into laughter as the sergeant major, with a look of alarm on
his face, caught him by the arm.
"If you must wish," he said gruffly, "wish for something sensible."
Mr.
White dropped it back into his pocket, and placing chairs, motioned his
friend to the table. In the business of supper the talisman was partly
forgotten, and afterward the three sat listening in an enthralled
fashion to a second installment of the soldier's adventures in India.
"If
the tale about the monkey's paw is not more truthful than those he has
been telling us," said Herbert, as the door closed behind their guest,
just in time for him to catch the last train, "we shan't make much out
of it."
"Did you give him anything for it, Father?" inquired Mrs. White, regarding her husband closely.
"A trifle," said he, coloring slightly. "He didn't want it, but I made him take it. And he pressed me again to throw it away."
"Likely,"
said Herbert, with pretended horror. "Why, we're going to be rich, and
famous, and happy. Wish to be an emperor, Father, to begin with; then
you can't be henpecked."
He darted around the table, pursued by the maligned Mrs. White armed with an antimacassar.
Mr.
White took the paw from his pocket and eyed it dubiously. "I don't know
what to wish for, and that's a fact," he said slowly. "It seems to me
I've got all I want."
"If you only cleared the house, you'd be
quite happy, wouldn't you?" said Herbert, with his hand on his shoulder.
"Well, wish for two hundred pounds, then; that'll just do it."
His
father, smiling shamefacedly at his own credulity, held up the
talisman, as his son, with a solemn face somewhat marred by a wink at
his mother, sat down at the piano and struck a few impressive chords.
"I wish for two hundred pounds," said the old man distinctly.
A
fine crash from the piano greeted the words, interrupted by a
shuddering cry from the old man. His wife and son ran toward him.
"It
moved," he cried, with a glance of disgust at the object as it lay on
the floor. "As I wished, it twisted in my hand like a snake."
"Well, I don't see the money," said his son, as he picked it up and placed it on the table, "and I bet I never shall."
"It must have been your fancy, Father," said his wife, regarding him anxiously.
He shook his head. "Never mind, though; there's no harm done, but it gave me a shock all the same."
They
sat down by the fire again while the two men finished their pipes.
Outside, the wind was higher than ever, and the old man started
nervously at the sound of a door banging upstairs. A silence unusual and
depressing settled upon all three, which lasted until the old couple
rose to retire for the night.
"I expect you'll find the cash tied
up in a big bag in the middle of your bed," said Herbert, as he bade
them good night, "and something horrible squatting up on top of the
wardrobe watching you as you pocket your ill-gotten gains."
In the
brightness of the wintry sun next morning as it streamed over the
breakfast table, Herbert laughed at his fears. There was an air of
prosaic wholesomeness about the room which it had lacked on the previous
night, and the dirty, shriveled little paw was pitched on the sideboard
with a carelessness which betokened no great belief in its virtues.
"I
suppose all old soldiers are the same," said Mrs. White. "The idea of
our listening to such nonsense! How could wishes be granted in these
days? And if they could, how could two hundred pounds hurt you, Father?"
"Might drop on his head from the sky," said the frivolous Herbert.
"Morris
said the things happened so naturally," said his father, "that you
might, if you so wished, attribute it to coincidence."
"Well,
don't break into the money before I come back," said Herbert, as he rose
from the table. "I'm afraid it'll turn you into a mean, avaricious man,
and we shall have to disown you."
His mother laughed, and
following him to the door, watched him down the road, and returning to
the breakfast table, was very happy at the expense of her husband's
credulity. All of which did not prevent her from scurrying to the door
at the postman's knock, nor prevent her from referring somewhat shortly
to retired sergeant majors of bibulous habits, when she found that the
post brought a tailor's bill.
"Herbert will have some more of his funny remarks, I expect, when he comes home," she said, as they sat at dinner.
"I daresay," said Mr. White, pouring himself out some beer; "but for all that, the thing moved in my hand; that I'll swear to."
"You thought it did," said the old lady soothingly.
"I say it did," replied the other. "There was no thought about it; I had just-- What's the matter?"
His
wife made no reply. She was watching the mysterious movements of a man
outside, who, peering in an undecided fashion at the house, appeared to
be trying to make up his mind to enter. In mental connection with the
two hundred pounds, she noticed that the stranger was well dressed and
wore a silk hat of glossy newness. Three times he paused at the gate,
and then walked on again. The fourth time he stood with his hand upon
it, and then with sudden resolution flung it open and walked up the
path. Mrs. White at the same moment placed her hands behind her, and
hurriedly unfastening the strings of her apron, put that useful article
of apparel beneath the cushion of her chair.
She brought the
stranger, who seemed ill at ease, into the room. He gazed furtively at
Mrs. White, and listened in a preoccupied fashion as the old lady
apologized for the appearance of the room, and her husband's coat, a
garment which he usually reserved for the garden. She then waited as
patiently as her sex would permit for him to broach his business, but he
was at first strangely silent.
"I--was asked to call," he said at
last, and stooped and picked a piece of cotton from his trousers. "I
come from Maw and Meggins."
The old lady started. "Is anything the
matter?" she asked breathlessly. "Has anything happened to Herbert?
What is it? What is it?"
Her husband interposed. "There, there,
Mother," he said hastily. "Sit down, and don't jump to conclusions.
You've not brought bad news, I'm sure, sir," and he eyed the other
wistfully.
"I'm sorry--" began the visitor.
"Is he hurt?" demanded the mother.
The visitor bowed in assent. "Badly hurt," he said quietly, "but he is not in any pain."
"Oh, thank God!" said the old woman, clasping her hands. "Thank God for that! Thank--"
She
broke off suddenly as the sinister meaning of the assurance dawned upon
her and she saw the awful confirmation of her fears in the other's
averted face. She caught her breath, and turning to her slower-witted
husband, laid her trembling old hand upon his. There was a long silence.
"He was caught in the machinery," said the visitor at length, in a low voice.
"Caught in the machinery," repeated Mr. White, in a dazed fashion, "yes."
He
sat staring blankly out at the window, and taking his wife's hand
between his own, pressed it as he had been wont to do in their old
courting days nearly forty years before.
"He was the only one left to us," he said, turning gently to the visitor. "It is hard."
The
other coughed, and rising, walked slowly to the window. "The firm
wished me to convey their sincere sympathy with you in your great loss,"
he said, without looking around. "I beg that you will understand I am
only their servant and merely obeying orders."
There was no reply;
the old woman's face was white, her eyes staring, and her breath
inaudible; on the husband's face was a look such as his friend the
sergeant might have carried into his first action.
"I was to say
that Maw and Meggins disclaim all responsibility," continued the other.
"They admit no liability at all, but in consideration of your son's
services they wish to present you with a certain sum as
compensation."
Mr.
White dropped his wife's hand, and rising to his feet, gazed with a
look of horror at his visitor. His dry lips shaped the words, "How
much?"
"Two hundred pounds," was the answer.
Unconscious of
his wife's shriek, the old man smiled faintly, put out his hands like a
sightless man, and dropped, a senseless heap, to the floor.
In the
huge new cemetery, some two miles distant, the old people buried their
dead, and came back to a house steeped in shadow and silence. It was all
over so quickly that at first they could hardly realize it, and
remained in a state of expectation, as though of something else to
happen--something else which was to lighten this load, too heavy for old
hearts to bear. But the days passed, and expectation gave place to
resignation--the hopeless resignation of the old, sometimes miscalled
apathy. Sometimes they hardly exchanged a word, for now they had nothing
to talk about, and their days were long to weariness.
It was
about a week after that that the old man, waking suddenly in the night,
stretched out his hand and found himself alone. The room was in
darkness, and the sound of subdued weeping came from the window. He
raised himself in bed and listened.
"Come back," he said tenderly. "You will be cold."
"It is colder for my son," said the old woman, and wept afresh.
The
sound of her sobs died away on his ears. The bed was -warm, and his
eyes heavy with sleep. He dozed fitfully, and then slept until a sudden
cry from his wife awoke him with a start.
"The monkey's paw!" she cried wildly. "The monkey's paw!"
He
started up in alarm. "Where? Where is it? What's the matter?" She came
stumbling across the room toward him. "I want it," she said quietly.
"You've not destroyed it?"
"It's in the parlor, on the bracket," he replied, marveling. "Why?"
She cried and laughed together, and bending over, kissed his cheek.
"I only just thought of it," she said hysterically. "Why didn't I think of it before? Why didn't you think of it?"
"Think of what?" he questioned.
"The other two wishes," she replied rapidly. "We've only had one."
"Was not that enough?" he demanded fiercely.
"No," she cried triumphantly; "we'll have one more. Go down and get it quickly, and wish our boy alive again."
The man sat up in bed and flung the bedclothes from his quaking limbs. "Good God, you are mad!" he cried, aghast.
"Get it," she panted; "get it quickly, and wish-- Oh, my boy, my boy!"
Her husband struck a match and lit the candle. "Get back to bed," he said unsteadily. "You don't know what you are saying."
"We had the first wish granted," said the old woman feverishly; "why not the second?"
"A coincidence," stammered the old man.
"Go and get it and wish," cried the old woman, and dragged him toward the door.
He
went down in the darkness, and felt his way to the parlor, and then to
the mantelpiece. The talisman was in its place, and a horrible fear that
the unspoken wish might bring his mutilated son before him ere he could
escape from the room seized upon him, and he caught his breath as he
found that he had lost the direction of the door. His brow cold with
sweat, he felt his way around the table, and groped along the wall until
he found himself in the small passage with the unwholesome thing in his
hand.
Even his wife's face seemed changed as he entered the room.
It was white and expectant, and to his fears seemed to have an
unnatural look upon it. He was afraid of her.
"Wish!" she cried, in a strong voice.
"It is foolish and wicked," he faltered.
"Wish!" repeated his wife.
He raised his hand. "I wish my son alive again."
The
talisman fell to the floor, and he regarded it shudderingly. Then he
sank trembling into a chair as the old woman, with burning eyes, walked
to the window and raised the blind.
He sat until he was chilled
with the cold, glancing occasionally at the figure of the old woman
peering through the window. The candle end, which had burned below the
rim of the china candlestick, was throwing pulsating shadows on the
ceiling and walls, until, with a flicker larger than the rest, it
expired. The old man, with an unspeakable sense of relief at the failure
of the talisman, crept back to his bed, and a minute or two afterward
the old woman came silently and apathetically beside him.
Neither
spoke, but both lay silently listening to the ticking of the clock. A
stair creaked, and a squeaky mouse scurried noisily through the wall.
The darkness was oppressive, and after lying for some time screwing up
his courage, the husband took the box of matches, and striking one, went
downstairs for a candle.
At the foot of the stairs the match went
out, and he paused to strike another, and at the same moment a knock,
so quiet and stealthy as to be scarcely audible, sounded on the front
door.
The matches fell from his hand. He stood motionless, his
breath suspended until the knock was repeated. Then he turned and fled
swiftly back to his room, and closed the door behind him. A third knock
sounded through the house.
"What's that?" cried the old woman, starting up.
"A rat," said the old man, in shaking tones, "a rat. It passed me on the stairs."
His wife sat up in bed listening. A loud knock resounded through the house.
"It's Herbert!" she screamed. "It's Herbert!"
She ran to the door, but her husband was before her, and catching her by the arm, held her tightly.
"What are you going to do?" he whispered hoarsely.
"It's
my boy; it's Herbert!" she cried, struggling mechanically. "I forgot it
was two miles away. What are you holding me for? Let go. I must open
the door."
"For God's sake don't let it in," cried the old man, trembling.
"You're afraid of your own son," she cried, struggling. "Let me go. I'm coming, Herbert; I'm coming."
There
was another knock, and another. The old woman with a sudden wrench
broke free and ran from the room. Her husband followed to the landing,
and called after her appealingly as she hurried downstairs. He heard the
chain rattle back and the bottom bolt drawn slowly and stiffly from the
socket. Then the old woman's voice, strained and panting.
"The bolt," she cried loudly. "Come down. I can't reach it."
But
her husband was on his hands and knees groping wildly on the floor in
search of the paw. If he could only find it before the thing outside got
in. A perfect fusillade of knocks reverberated through the house, and
he heard the scraping of a chair as his wife put it down in the passage
against the door. He heard the creaking of the bolt as it came slowly
back, and at the same moment, he found the monkey's paw, and frantically
breathed his third and last wish.
The knocking ceased suddenly,
although the echoes of it were still in the house. He heard the chair
drawn back and the door opened. A cold wind rushed up the staircase, and
a long, loud wail of disappointment and misery from his wife gave him
courage to run down to her side, and then to the gate beyond. The
streetlamp flickering opposite shone on a quiet and deserted road.
Source:http://www.englishclub.com/reading/story-monkeys-paw.htm
