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.
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"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
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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
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found himself alone. The room was in darkness, and the sound of subdued weeping came from the window. He raised himself in
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"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."
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"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
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"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.
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The matches fell from his hand. He stood motionless, his breath suspended until the knock was repeated. Then he turned and
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"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."
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"It's my boy; it's Herbert!" she cried, struggling mechanically. "I forgot it was two miles away. What are you holding me
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"For God's sake don't let it in," cried the old man, trembling.
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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
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