The Monkey's Paw by W. W. Jacobs Without The night was cold and
wet, but in the small part of Laburnum 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 had even provoked comment from the white haired old
lady knitting placidly by the fire. Hark at the wind, said mister 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 to night, said his father,
with his hand poised over the board. Mate replied the son. That's the
worst of living so far out, bawled mister White, with sudden and unlooked
for violence. Of all the beastly, slushy, out of the way places
to live in, this is the worst pathways a bog and the roads 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.
Mister 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 gray beard. There he is, said Herbert
White. As the gate banged 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 missus White said and coughed gently. As her husband entered the room,
followed by a tall, burly man, beady of eye and rube and
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 whiskey 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 people's twenty one
years of it, said mister 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 missus White politely. I'd like to go to Indy em myself, said
the old man, just to look around 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. Leastwise, it's nothing
worth hearing monkey's paw, said missus White curiously. Well it's just a bit
of what you might call magi, perhaps, said the Sergeant Major off handedly.
His three listeners leaned forward eagerly. The visitor, absent mindedly 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. Missus White drew back
with a grimace. But her son, taking it, examined it curiously.
And what is there special about it? Inquired mister 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 won't regard presumptuous youth. I have, he said, quietly,
and his blotchy face whitened, And did you really have the three wishes
granted? Asked missus 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 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. 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 quite 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 exact and his new possession closely. Ah ah, 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 all the consequences.
Sounds like the Arabian nights, said missus 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. Mister 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 afterwards
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 Paw is not more truthful
than those he has been telling us, said Herbert, as the door clothed
behind their guests, just in time for him to catch the last train.
We sha'n't make much out of it. Did you give him anything for it?
Father inquired Missus 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 hen packed He darted round the table, pursued by the malign Missus White,
armed with an Auntie Macassar. Mister 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,
shamefaced 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 hands 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 on top of
the wardrobe, watching you as you pocket your ill gotten gains. He sat
alone in the darkness, gazing at the dying fire and seeing faces in it.
The last face was so horrible and so Simian, that he gazed at
it in amazement. It got so vivid that, with a little uneasy laugh,
he felt on the table for a glass containing a little water to throw
over it. His hand grasped the monkey paw, and with a little shiver,
he wiped his hand on his coat and went up to bed. 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 pa 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 missus 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 happen 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 followed him to the door, watched him down the road,
and, returning to the breakfast table, was very happy at the expense of
her husband 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 Major's of bibulous habits when she found that the post brought a tailor's bell.
Herbert will have some more of his funny remarks I expect when he comes
home, she said, as they sat at dinner. I dare say,
said mister White pouring himself out some beer. But for all of 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 glosses 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. Missus 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 at her furtively 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 Meggin's. 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 goodness, said the old woman, clasping her hands. Thank goodness 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 slore 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 mister White in a day's
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 and
your great loss, he said, without looking round. 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 Megannus disclaim all responsibility, continued the other. They admit no liability
at all, but in consideration of your son's services, they wished to present
you with a certain sum as compensation. Mister 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, ha, 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
their 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 wild 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 wanted, she said, quietly. You've not destroyed
it. It's in the pardor 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 that not 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, heavens, you're 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,
quivering with excitement. The old man turned and regarded her, and his
voice shook. He has been dead ten days, and besides he I would
not tell you else, but I could only recognize him by his clothing.
If he was too terrible for you to see, 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 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 round 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
who his fears seemed to have an unnatural look upon it. He was afraid
of her wish, she cried in a strong voice. It is a 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 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
burnt 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
afterwards, 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 what are you going to
do, he whispered hoarsely. It's my boy. It's Herbert, she cried,
struggling mechanically. I forgot God, it was two miles away. What
are you holding me for? Let go? I must open the door for
Heaven'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 fusillat of knocks reverberated through
the house, and he heard the scraping of a chair as he 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 bend to the gate beyond the
street. Lamp flickering opposite shone on a quiet and deserted road end of the Monkey's Paw