Works of W. W. Jacobs

by Jacobs, W. W.

  Mrs. White: You don’t look to’ve taken much harm — except (Indicates his empty sleeve. She takes kettle to table, then returns to fire.)

  Sergeant (showing a medal hidden under his coat): And that I got this for. No, marm. Tough. Thomas Morris is tough. (Mr. White is holding a glass of grog under the

  Sergeant’s nose.) And sober. What’s this now?

  Mr. White: Put your nose in it; you’ll see.

  Sergeant: Whisky? And hot? And sugar? And a slice o’ lemon? No. I said I’d never — but seein’ the sort o’ night. Well! (Waving the glass at them) Here’s another thousand a years!

  Mr. White (sits r. of table, also with a glass): Same to you, and many of ’em.

  Sergeant (to Herbert, who has no glass): What? Not you?

  Herbert (laughing and sitting across chair, c): Oh ’tisn’t for want of being sociable. But my work don’t go with it. Not if ’twas ever so little. I’ve got to keep a cool head, a steady eye, and a still hand. The fly-wheel might gobble me up.

  Mrs. White: Don’t, Herbert. (Sits in armchair below fire.)

  Herbert (laughing): No fear, mother.

  Sergeant: Ah! You electricians! — Sort o’ magicians, you are. Light! says you — and light it is. And, power! says you — and the trams go whizzin’. And, knowledge! says you — and words go ‘ummin’ to the ends o’ the world. It fair beats me — and I’ve seen a bit in my time, too.

  Herbert (nudges his father): Your Indian magic? All a fake, governor. The fakir’s fake.

  Sergeant: Fake, you call it? I tell you, I’ve seen it.

  Herbert (nudging his father with his foot). Oh, come, now! Such as what? Come, now!

  Sergeant: I’ve seen a cove with no more clothes on than a babby, (to Mrs. White) if you know what I mean – take an empty basket — empty, mind! — as empty as — as this here glass.

  Mr. White: Hand it over, Morris. (Hands it to Herbert, who goes quickly behind table and fills it.)

  Sergeant: Which was not my intentions, but used for illustration.

  Herbert (while mixing): Oh, I’ve seen the basket trick; and I’ve read how it was done. Why, I could do it myself, with a bit o’ practice. Ladle out something stronger.

  (Herbert brings him the glass.)

  Sergeant: Stronger? — What do you say to an old fakir chuckin’ a rope up in the air — in the air, mind you! — and swarming up it, same as if it was ‘ooked on — and vanishing clean out o’ sight ? — I’ve seen that.

  (Herbert goes to table, plunges a knife into a bun and offers it to the Sergeant with exaggerated politeness.)

  Sergeant (eyeing it with disgust): Bun — what for?

  Herbert: That yarn takes it.

  (Mr. and Mrs. White delighted.)

  Sergeant: Mean to say you doubt my word?

  Mrs. White: No, no! He’s only taking you off. — You shouldn’t, Herbert.

  Mr. White: Herbert always was one for a bit o’fun!

  (Herbert puts bun back on table, comes round in front, and moving the chair out of the way, sits cross-legged on the floor at his father’s side.)

  Sergeant: But it’s true. Why, if I chose, I could tell you things. But there! You don’t get no more yarns out o’ me.

  Mr. White: Nonsense, old friend. (Puts down his glass.) You’re not going to get shirty about a bit o’ fun. (Moves his chair nearer Morris’s.) What was that you started telling me the other day about a monkey’s paw, or something? (Nudges Herbert, and winks at Mrs. White.)

  Sergeant (gravely): Nothing. Leastways, nothing worth hearing.

  Mrs. White (with astonished curiosity): Monkey’s paw?

  Mr. White: Ah — you was tellin’ me —

  Sergeant: Nothing. Don’t go on about it (Puts his empty glass to his lips — then stares at it.) What? Empty again? There! When I begin thinkin’ o’ the paw, it makes me that absentminded.

  Mr. White (rises and fills glass): You said you always carried it on you.

  Sergeant: So I do, for fear o’ what might happen. (Sunk in thought.) Ay! — ay!

  Mr. White (handing him his glass refilled): There. (Sits again in same chair.)

  Mrs. White: What’s it for?

  Sergeant: You wouldn’t believe me, if I was to tell you.

  Herbert: I will, every word.

  Sergeant: Magic, then! — Don’t you laugh!

  Herbert: I’m not. Got it on you now?

  Sergeant: Of course.

  Herbert: Let’s see it.

  (Seeing the Sergeant embarrassed with his glass, Mrs. White rises, takes it from him, places it on mantelpiece and remains standing.)

  Sergeant: Oh, it’s nothing to look at. (Hunting in his pocket) Just an ordinary — little paw — dried to a mummy. (Produces it and holds it towards Mrs. White.) Here.

  Mrs. White (who has leant forward eagerly to see it, starts back with a little cry of disgust): Oh!

  Herbert: Give us a look. (Morris passes the paw to Mr. White, from whom Herbert takes it.) Why, it’s all dried up!

  Sergeant: I said so.

  (Wind.)

  Mrs. White (with a slight shudder): Hark at the wind! (Sits again in her old place.)

  Mr. White (taking the paw from Herbert): And what might there be special about it?

  Sergeant (impressively): That there paw has had a spell put upon it!

  Mr. White: No? (In great alarm he thrusts the paw back into Morris’s hand.)

  Sergeant (pensively, holding the paw in the palm of his hand). Ah! By an old fakir. He was a very holy man. He’d sat all doubled up in one spot, goin’ on for fifteen year; thinkin’ o’ things. And he wanted to show that fate ruled people. That everything was cut and dried from the beginning, as you might say. That there warn’t no gettin’ away from it. And that, if you tried to, you caught it hot. (Pauses solemnly) So he put a spell on this bit of a paw. It might ha’ been anything else, but he took the first thing that came handy. Ah! He put a spell on it, and made it so that three people (looking at them and with deep meaning) could each have three wishes.

  (All but Mrs. White laugh rather nervously)

  Mrs. White: Ssh! Don’t!

  Sergeant (more gravely): But! But, mark you, though the wishes was granted, those three people would have cause to wish they hadn’t been.

  Mr. White: But how could the wishes be granted?

  Sergeant: He didn’t say. It would all happen so natural, you might think it a coincidence if so disposed.

  Herbert: Why haven’t you tried it, sir?

  Sergeant (gravely, after a pause): I have.

  Herbert (eagerly): You’ve had your three wishes?

  Sergeant (gravely): Yes.

  Mrs. White: Were they granted?

  Sergeant (staring at the fire): They were.

  (A pause.)

  Mr. White: Has anybody else wished?

  Sergeant: Yes. The first owner had his three wishes. (Lost in recollection) Yes, oh yes, he had his three wishes all right. I don’t know what his first two were, (very impressively) but the third was for death. (All shudder.) That’s how I got the paw.

  (A pause.)

  Herbert (cheerfully): Well, seems to me you’ve only got to wish for things that can’t have any bad luck about ’em (Rises.)

  Sergeant (shaking his head): Ah!

  Mr. White (tentatively): Morris — if you’ve had your three wishes — it’s no good to you, now — what do you keep it for?

  Sergeant (still holding the paw; looking at it): Fancy, I s’pose. I did have some idea of selling it but I don’t think I will. It’s done mischief enough already. Besides, people won’t buy. Some of ’em think it’s a fairy tale. And some want to try it first, and pay after.

  (Nervous laugh from the others.)

  Mrs. White: If you could have another three wishes, would you?

  Sergeant (slowly — weighing the paw in his hand, and looking at it): I don’t know — I don’t know — (Suddenly, with violence, flinging it in the fire.) No! I’m damned if I would!

  (Mo
vement from all.)

  Mr. White (rises and quickly snatches it out of the fire): What are you doing?

  (White goes r. c.)

  Sergeant (rising and following him and trying to prevent him): Let it burn! Let the infernal thing burn!

  Mrs. White (rises): Let it burn, father!

  Mr. White (wiping it on his coat sleeve): No. If you don’t want it, give it to me.

  Sergeant (violently): I won’t! I won’t! My hands are clear of it. I threw it on the fire. If you keep it, don’t blame me, whatever happens. Here! Pitch it back again.

  Mr. White (stubbornly): I’m going to keep it. What do you say, Herbert?

  Herbert (l. c., laughing): I say, keep it if you want to. Stuff and nonsense, anyhow.

  Mr. White (looking at the paw thoughtfully): Stuff and nonsense. Yes. I wonder — (casually) I wish — (He was going to say some ordinary thing, like “I wish I were certain.”)

  Sergeant (misunderstanding him; violently): Stop! Mind what you’re doing. That’s not the way.

  Mr. White: What is the way?

  Mrs. White (moving away, up r. c. to back of table, and beginning to put the tumblers straight, and the chairs in their places): Oh, don’t have anything to do with it, John.

  (Takes glasses on tray to dresser, l., busies herself there, rinsing them in a bowl of water on the dresser, and wiping them with a cloth.)

  Sergeant: That’s what I say, marm. But if I warn’t to tell him, he might go wishing something he didn’t mean to. You hold it in your right hand, and wish aloud. But I warn you! I warn you!

  Mrs. White: Sounds like the Arabian Nights. Don’t you think you might wish me four pair of hands?

  Mr. White (laughing): Right you are, mother! — I wish —

  Sergeant (pulling his arm down): Stop it! If you must wish, wish for something sensible. Look here! I can’t stand this. Gets on my nerves. Where’s my coat? (Goes into alcove)

  (Mr. White crosses to fireplace and carefully puts the paw on mantelpiece. He is absorbed in it to the end of the tableau)

  Herbert: I’m coming your way, to the works, in a minute. Won’t you wait? (Goes up c, helps Morris with his coat)

  Sergeant (putting on his coat): No. I’m all shook up. I want fresh air. I don’t want to be here when you wish. And wish you will as soon’s my back’s turned. I know. I know. But I’ve warned you, mind.

  Mr. White (helping him into his coat): All right, Morris. Don’t you fret about us. (Gives him money) Here.

  Sergeant (refusing it): No, I won’t.

  Mr. White (forcing it into his hand): Yes, you will. (Opens door)

  Sergeant (turning to the room): Well, good-night all. (To White.) Put it in the fire.

  All: Good-night.

  (Exit Sergeant. Mr. White closes door, comes towards fireplace, absorbed in the paw)

  Herbert (down l.): If there’s no more in this than there is in his other stories, we shan’t make much out of it.

  Mrs. White (comes down r.c. to White): Did you give him anything for it, father?

  Mr. White: A trifle. He didn’t want it, but I made him take it.

  Mrs. White: There, now! You shouldn’t. Throwing your money about.

  Mr. White (looking at the paw which he has picked up again): I wonder —

  Herbert: What?

  Mr. White: I wonder, whether we hadn’t better chuck it on the fire?

  Herbert (laughing): Likely! Why, we’re all going to be rich and famous, and happy.

  Mrs. White: Throw it on the fire, indeed, when you’ve given money for it! So like you, father.

  Herbert: Wish to be an Emperor, father, to begin with. Then you can’t be henpecked!

  Mrs. White (going for him front of table with a duster): You young . . . (Follows him to back of table.)

  Herbert (running away from her round behind table): Steady with that duster, mother!

  Mr. White: Be quiet, there! (Herbert catches Mrs. White in his arms and kisses her): I wonder . . . (He has the paw in his hand,) I don’t know what to wish for, and that’s a fact. (He looks about him with a happy smile.) I seem to’ve got all I want.

  Herbert (with his hands on the old man’s shoulders): Old dad! If you’d only cleared the debt on the house, you’d be quite happy, wouldn’t you? (Laughing) Well — go ahead! — wish for the two hundred pounds; that’ll just do it.

  Mr. White (half laughing): Shall I?

  (Crosses to R. c.)

  Herbert: Go on! Here! — I’ll play slow music. (Crosses to piano.)

  Mrs. White: Don’t ‘ee, John. Don’t have nothing to do with it!

  Herbert: Now, dad! (Plays)

  Mr. White: I will! (Holds up the paw, as if half ashamed.) I wish for two hundred pounds.

  (Crash on the piano. At the same instant Mr. White utters a cry and lets the paw drop.)

  Mrs. White: What’s the matter?

  Mr. White (gazing with horror at the paw): It moved! As I wished, it twisted in my hand like a snake.

  Herbert (goes down r., and picks the paw up): Nonsense, dad. Why, it’s as stiff as a bone. (Lays it on the mantelpiece)

  Mrs. White: Must have been your fancy, father.

  Herbert (facing away): Well? (Looking round the room) I don’t see the money; and I bet I never shall.

  Mr. White (relieved): Thank God, there’s no harm done! But it gave me a shock.

  Herbert: Half-past eleven. I must get along. I’m on at midnight. (Goes up c., fetches his coat, etc.) We’ve had quite a merry evening.

  Mrs. White: I’m off to bed. Don’t be late for breakfast, Herbert.

  Herbert: I shall walk home as usual. Does me good. I shall be with you about nine. Don’t wait, though.

  Mrs. White: You know your father never waits.

  Herbert: Good-night, mother. (Kisses her. She lights candle on dresser, l., goes up stairs and exits)

  Herbert (coming to his father, r., who is sunk in thought): Good-night, dad. You’ll find the cash tied up in the middle of the bed.

  Mr. White (staring, seizes Herbert’s hand): It moved, Herbert.

  Herbert: Ah! And a monkey hanging by his tail from the bed-post, watching you count the golden sovereigns.

  Mr. White (accompanying him to the door): I wish you wouldn’t joke, my boy.

  Herbert: All right, dad. (Opens door.) Lord! What weather! Good-night. (Exit.)

  (The old man shakes his head, closes the door, locks it, puts the chain up, slips the lower bolt, has some difficulty with the upper bolt.)

  Mr. White: This bolt’s stiff again. I must get Herbert to look to it in the morning.

  (Comes into the room, puts out the lamp, crosses towards steps, but is irresistibly attracted towards fireplace. Sits down and stares into the fire. His expression changes: he sees something horrible.)

  Mr. White (with an involuntary cry): Mother! Mother!

  Mrs. White (appearing at the door at the top of the steps with a candle): What’s the matter? (Comes down R. c.)

  Mr. White (mastering himself. Rises): Nothing — I — ah — I saw faces in the fire.

  Mrs. White: Come along.

  (She takes his arm and draws him towards the steps. He looks back frightened towards fireplace as they reach the first step.)

  Tableau Curtain

  Scene II

  (Bright sunshine. The table, which has been moved nearer the window, is laid for breakfast, Mrs. White busy about the table, Mr. White standing in the window looking off R. The inner door is open, showing the outer door.)

  Mr. White: What a morning Herbert’s got for walking home!

  Mrs. White (l. c): What’s o’clock? (Looks at clock on mantelpiece) Quarter to nine, I declare. He’s off at eight. (Crosses to fire.)

  Mr. White: Takes him half-an-hour to change and wash. He’s just by the cemetery now.

  Mrs. White: He’ll be here in ten minutes.

  Mr. White (coming to the table): What’s for breakfast?

  Mrs. White: Sausages. (At the mantelpiece) Why, if here isn’t
that dirty monkey’s paw! (Picks it up, looks at it with disgust, puts it back. Takes sausages in dish from before fire and places them on table.) Silly thing! The idea of us listening to such nonsense!

  Mr. White (goes up to window again): Ay — the Sergeant-Major and his yarns! I suppose all old soldiers are alike.

  Mrs. White: Come on, father. Herbert hates us to wait.

  (They both sit and begin breakfast.)

  Mrs. White: How could wishes be granted, nowadays?

  Mr. White: Ah! Been thinking about it all night, have you?

  Mrs. White: You kept me awake, with your tossing and tumbling.

  Mr. White: Ay, I had a bad night.

  Mrs. White: It was the storm, I expect. How it blew!

  Mr. White: I didn’t hear it. I was asleep and not asleep, if you know what I mean.

  Mrs. White: And all that rubbish about its making you unhappy if your wish was granted! How could two hundred pounds hurt you, eh, father?

  Mr. White: Might drop on my head in a lump. Don’t see any other way. And I’d try to bear that. Though, mind you, Morris said it would all happen so naturally that you might take it for a coincidence, if so disposed.

  Mrs. White: Well — it hasn’t happened. That’s all I know. And it isn’t going to. (A letter is seen to drop in the letter-box) And how you can sit there and talk about it (Sharp postman’s knock; she jumps to her feet.) What’s that?

  Mr. White: Postman, o’ course.

  Mrs. White (seeing the letter from a distance; in an awed whisper): He’s brought a letter, John!

  Mr. White (laughing): What did you think he’d bring? Ton o’ coals?

  Mrs. White: John — John — Suppose?

  Mr. White: Suppose what?

  Mrs. White: Suppose it was two hundred pounds!

  Mr. White (suppressing his excitement): Eh! — Here! Don’t talk nonsense. Why don’t you fetch it?

  Mrs. White (crosses and takes letter out of the box): It’s thick, John — (feels it) — and — and it’s got something crisp inside it. (Takes letter to White, r. c.)

  Mr. White: Who — who’s it for?

  Mrs. White: You.

  Mr. White: Hand it over, then. (Feeling and examining it with ill-concealed excitement.) The idea! What a superstitious old woman you are! Where are my specs?

  Mrs. White: Let me open it.

  Mr. White: Don’t you touch it. Where are my specs?