by W. W. Jacobs
THE MONKEY'S PAW
*I*
Without, the night was cold and wet, but in the small parlour ofLaburnam Villa the blinds were drawn and the fire burned brightly.Father and son were at chess, the former, who possessed ideas about thegame involving radical changes, putting his king into such sharp andunnecessary perils that it even provoked comment from the white-hairedold lady knitting placidly by the fire.
"Hark at the wind," said Mr. White, who, having seen a fatal mistakeafter it was too late, was amiably desirous of preventing his son fromseeing it.
"I'm listening," said the latter, grimly surveying the board as hestretched out his hand. "Check."
"I should hardly think that he'd come to-night," said his father, withhis hand poised over the board.
"Mate," replied the son.
"That's the worst of living so far out," bawled Mr. White, with suddenand unlooked-for violence; "of all the beastly, slushy, out-of-the-wayplaces to live in, this is the worst. Pathway's a bog, and the road's atorrent. I don't know what people are thinking about. I suppose becauseonly two houses in the road are let, they think it doesn't matter."
"Never mind, dear," said his wife, soothingly; "perhaps you'll win thenext one."
Mr. White looked up sharply, just in time to intercept a knowing glancebetween mother and son. The words died away on his lips, and he hid aguilty grin in his thin grey beard.
"There he is," said Herbert White, as the gate banged to loudly andheavy footsteps came toward the door.
The old man rose with hospitable haste, and opening the door, was heardcondoling with the new arrival. The new arrival also condoled withhimself, so that Mrs. White said, "Tut, tut!" and coughed gently as herhusband entered the room, followed by a tall, burly man, beady of eyeand rubicund of visage.
"Sergeant-Major Morris," he said, introducing him.
The sergeant-major shook hands, and taking the proffered seat by thefire, watched contentedly while his host got out whiskey and tumblersand stood a small copper kettle on the fire.
At the third glass his eyes got brighter, and he began to talk, thelittle family circle regarding with eager interest this visitor fromdistant parts, as he squared his broad shoulders in the chair and spokeof wild scenes and doughty deeds; of wars and plagues and strangepeoples.
"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 lookat 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 rounda bit, you know."
"Better where you are," said the sergeant-major, shaking his head. Heput down the empty glass, and sighing softly, shook it again.
"I should like to see those old temples and fakirs and jugglers," saidthe old man. "What was that you started telling me the other day about amonkey'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 thesergeant-major, offhandedly.
His three listeners leaned forward eagerly. The visitor absent-mindedlyput his empty glass to his lips and then set it down again. His hostfilled it for him.
"To look at," said the sergeant-major, fumbling in his pocket, "it'sjust an ordinary little paw, dried to a mummy."
He took something out of his pocket and proffered it. Mrs. White drewback with a grimace, but her son, taking it, examined it curiously.
"And what is there special about it?" inquired Mr. White as he took itfrom 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, "avery holy man. He wanted to show that fate ruled people's lives, andthat those who interfered with it did so to their sorrow. He put a spellon it so that three separate men could each have three wishes from it."
His manner was so impressive that his hearers were conscious that theirlight 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 regardpresumptuous youth. "I have," he said, quietly, and his blotchy facewhitened.
"And did you really have the three wishes granted?" asked Mrs. White.
"I did," said the sergeant-major, and his glass tapped against hisstrong teeth.
"And has anybody else wished?" persisted the old lady.
"The first man had his three wishes. Yes," was the reply; "I don't knowwhat the first two were, but the third was for death. That's how I gotthe 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 didhave some idea of selling it, but I don't think I will. It has causedenough mischief already. Besides, people won't buy. They think it's afairy tale; some of them, and those who do think anything of it want totry it first and pay me afterward."
"If you could have another three wishes," said the old man, eyeing himkeenly, "would you have them?"
"I don't know," said the other. "I don't know."
He took the paw, and dangling it between his forefinger and thumb,suddenly threw it upon the fire. White, with a slight cry, stooped downand snatched it off.
"Better let it burn," said the soldier, solemnly.
"If you don't want it, Morris," said the other, "give it to me."
"I won't," said his friend, doggedly. "I threw it on the fire. If youkeep it, don't blame me for what happens. Pitch it on the fire againlike a sensible man."
The other shook his head and examined his new possession closely. "Howdo 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 beganto set the supper. "Don't you think you might wish for four pairs ofhands for me?"
Her husband drew the talisman from pocket, and then all three burst intolaughter as the sergeant-major, with a look of alarm on his face, caughthim by the arm.
"If you must wish," he said, gruffly, "wish for something sensible."
Mr. White dropped it back in his pocket, and placing chairs, motionedhis friend to the table. In the business of supper the talisman waspartly forgotten, and afterward the three sat listening in an enthralledfashion to a second instalment of the soldier's adventures in India.
"If the tale about the monkey's paw is not more truthful than those hehas been telling us," said Herbert, as the door closed behind theirguest, just in time for him to catch the last train, "we sha'nt makemuch out of it."
"Did you give him anything for it, father?" inquired Mrs. White,regarding her husband closely.
"A trifle," said he, colouring slightly. "He didn't want it, but I madehim take it. And he pressed me again to throw it away."
"Likely," said Herbert, with pretended horror. "Why, we're going to berich, and famous and happy. Wish to be an emperor, father, to beginwith; then you can't be henpecked."
He darted round the table, pursued by the maligned Mrs. White armed withan antimacassar.
Mr. White took the paw from his pocket and eyed it dubiously. "I don'tknow what to wish for, and that's a fact," he said, slowly. "It seems tome 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 hundredpounds, then; that'll just do it."
His father, smiling shamefacedly at his own credulity, held up thetalisman, as his son, with a solemn face, somewhat marred by a wink athis mother, sat down at the piano and struck a few impressive chords.
"I wish for two hundred pounds," said t
he old man distinctly.
A fine crash from the piano greeted the words, interrupted by ashuddering 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 layon 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 andplaced it on the table, "and I bet I never shall."
"It must have been your fancy, father," said his wife, regarding himanxiously.
He shook his head. "Never mind, though; there's no harm done, but itgave 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 startednervously at the sound of a door banging upstairs. A silence unusual anddepressing settled upon all three, which lasted until the old couplerose to retire for the night.
"I expect you'll find the cash tied up in a big bag in the middle ofyour bed," said Herbert, as he bade them good-night, "and somethinghorrible squatting up on top of the wardrobe watching you as you pocketyour ill-gotten gains."
He sat alone in the darkness, gazing at the dying fire, and seeing facesin it. The last face was so horrible and so simian that he gazed at itin amazement. It got so vivid that, with a little uneasy laugh, he felton the table for a glass containing a little water to throw over it. Hishand grasped the monkey's paw, and with a little shiver he wiped hishand on his coat and went up to bed.
*II.*
In the brightness of the wintry sun next morning as it streamed over thebreakfast table he laughed at his fears. There was an air of prosaicwholesomeness about the room which it had lacked on the previous night,and the dirty, shrivelled little paw was pitched on the sideboard with acarelessness which betokened no great belief in its virtues.
"I suppose all old soldiers are the same," said Mrs. White. "The idea ofour listening to such nonsense! How could wishes be granted in thesedays? 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, "thatyou might if you so wished attribute it to coincidence."
"Well, don't break into the money before I come back," said Herbert ashe 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 theroad; and returning to the breakfast table, was very happy at theexpense of her husband's credulity. All of which did not prevent herfrom scurrying to the door at the postman's knock, nor prevent her fromreferring somewhat shortly to retired sergeant-majors of bibulous habitswhen she found that the post brought a tailor's bill.
"Herbert will have some more of his funny remarks, I expect, when hecomes home," she said, as they sat at dinner.
"I dare say," said Mr. White, pouring himself out some beer; "but forall 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 hadjust--- What's the matter?"
His wife made no reply. She was watching the mysterious movements of aman outside, who, peering in an undecided fashion at the house, appearedto be trying to make up his mind to enter. In mental connection with thetwo hundred pounds, she noticed that the stranger was well dressed, andwore 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 uponit, and then with sudden resolution flung it open and walked up thepath. Mrs. White at the same moment placed her hands behind her, andhurriedly unfastening the strings of her apron, put that useful articleof apparel beneath the cushion of her chair.
She brought the stranger, who seemed ill at ease, into the room. Hegazed at her furtively, and listened in a preoccupied fashion as the oldlady apologized for the appearance of the room, and her husband's coat,a garment which he usually reserved for the garden. She then waited aspatiently as her sex would permit, for him to broach his business, buthe was at first strangely silent.
"I--was asked to call," he said at last, and stooped and picked a pieceof cotton from his trousers. "I come from 'Maw and Muggins.'"
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. "Sitdown, and don't jump to conclusions. You've not brought bad news, I'msure, sir;" and he eyed the other wistfully.
"I'm sorry--" began the visitor.
"Is he hurt?" demanded the mother, wildly.
The visitor bowed in assent. "Badly hurt," he said, quietly, "but he isnot in any pain."
"Oh, thank God!" said the old woman, clasping her hands. "Thank God forthat! Thank--"
She broke off suddenly as the sinister meaning of the assurance dawnedupon her and she saw the awful confirmation of her fears in the other'saverted face. She caught her breath, and turning to her slower-wittedhusband, 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 lowvoice.
"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 handbetween his own, pressed it as he had been wont to do in their oldcourting-days nearly forty years before.
"He was the only one left to us," he said, turning gently to thevisitor. "It is hard."
The other coughed, and rising, walked slowly to the window. "The firmwished me to convey their sincere sympathy with you in your great loss,"he said, without looking round. "I beg that you will understand I amonly 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 hisfriend 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 inconsideration of your son's services, they wish to present you with acertain sum as compensation."
Mr. White dropped his wife's hand, and rising to his feet, gazed with alook of horror at his visitor. His dry lips shaped the words, "Howmuch?"
"Two hundred pounds," was the answer.
Unconscious of his wife's shriek, the old man smiled faintly, put outhis hands like a sightless man, and dropped, a senseless heap, to thefloor.
*III.*
In the huge new cemetery, some two miles distant, the old people buriedtheir dead, and came back to a house steeped in shadow and silence. Itwas all over so quickly that at first they could hardly realize it, andremained in a state of expectation as though of something else to happen--something else which was to lighten this load, too heavy for oldhearts to bear.
But the days passed, and expectation gave place to resignation--thehopeless resignation of the old, sometimes miscalled, apathy. Sometimesthey 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 the old man, waking suddenly in thenight, stretched out his hand and found himself alone. The room was indarkness, and the sound of subdued weeping came from the window. Heraised 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 hiseyes heavy with sleep. He dozed fitfully, and then slept until a suddenwild cry from his wife awoke him with a start.
"The 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,qui
etly. "You've not destroyed it?"
"It's in the parlour, on the bracket," he replied, marvelling. "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 thinkof 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 itquickly, 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," hesaid, unsteadily. "You don't know what you are saying."
"We had the first wish granted," said the old woman, feverishly; "whynot the second?"
"A coincidence," stammered the old man.
"Go and get it and wish," cried his wife, quivering with excitement.
The old man turned and regarded her, and his voice shook. "He has beendead ten days, and besides he--I would not tell you else, but--I couldonly recognize him by his clothing. If he was too terrible for you tosee then, how now?"
"Bring him back," cried the old woman, and dragged him toward the door."Do you think I fear the child I have nursed?"
He went down in the darkness, and felt his way to the parlour, and thento the mantelpiece. The talisman was in its place, and a horrible fearthat the unspoken wish might bring his mutilated son before him ere hecould escape from the room seized upon him, and he caught his breath ashe found that he had lost the direction of the door. His brow cold withsweat, he felt his way round the table, and groped along the wall untilhe found himself in the small passage with the unwholesome thing in hishand.
Even his wife's face seemed changed as he entered the room. It was whiteand expectant, and to his fears seemed to have an unnatural look uponit. 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 fearfully. Then hesank trembling into a chair as the old woman, with burning eyes, walkedto the window and raised the blind.
He sat until he was chilled with the cold, glancing occasionally at thefigure of the old woman peering through the window. The candle-end,which had burned below the rim of the china candlestick, was throwingpulsating shadows on the ceiling and walls, until, with a flicker largerthan the rest, it expired. The old man, with an unspeakable sense ofrelief at the failure of the talisman, crept back to his bed, and aminute or two afterward the old woman came silently and apatheticallybeside him.
Neither spoke, but lay silently listening to the ticking of the clock. Astair creaked, and a squeaky mouse scurried noisily through the wall.The darkness was oppressive, and after lying for some time screwing uphis courage, he took the box of matches, and striking one, wentdownstairs for a candle.
At the foot of the stairs the match went out, and he paused to strikeanother; and at the same moment a knock, so quiet and stealthy as to bescarcely audible, sounded on the front door.
The matches fell from his hand and spilled in the passage. He stoodmotionless, his breath suspended until the knock was repeated. Then heturned and fled swiftly back to his room, and closed the door behindhim. A third knock sounded through the house.
"What's that?" cried the old woman.]
"What's that?" cried the old woman, starting up.
"A rat," said the old man in shaking tones--"a rat. It passed me on thestairs."
His wife sat up in bed listening. A loud knock resounded through thehouse.
"It's Herbert!" she screamed. "It's Herbert!"
She ran to the door, but her husband was before her, and catching her bythe arm, held her tightly.
"What are you going to do?" he whispered hoarsely.
"It's my boy; it's Herbert!" she cried, struggling mechanically. "Iforgot it was two miles away. What are you holding me for? Let go. Imust 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'mcoming, Herbert; I'm coming."
There was another knock, and another. The old woman with a sudden wrenchbroke free and ran from the room. Her husband followed to the landing,and called after her appealingly as she hurried downstairs. He heard thechain rattle back and the bottom bolt drawn slowly and stiffly from thesocket. 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 floorin search of the paw. If he could only find it before the thing outsidegot 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 thepassage against the door. He heard the creaking of the bolt as it cameslowly back, and at the same moment he found the monkey's paw, andfrantically breathed his third and last wish.
The knocking ceased suddenly, although the echoes of it were still inthe house. He heard the chair drawn back, and the door opened. A coldwind rushed up the staircase, and a long loud wail of disappointment andmisery from his wife gave him courage to run down to her side, and thento the gate beyond. The street lamp flickering opposite shone on a quietand deserted road.
