[English Story] The Monkey's Paw

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 such 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.