W.W. Jacobs

 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.