The Monkey´s Paw
by W. W. JACOBS
W.W. Jacobs / La pata de mono (A Short Story in Spanish)
W.W. Jacobs / A pata do macaco (A Short Story in Portuguese)
W.W. Jacobs / La pata de mono (A Short Story in Spanish)
W.W. Jacobs / A pata do macaco (A Short Story in Portuguese)
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.
"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.
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