Chapter 26 monkey paw

Outside, the night was cold and damp, but in the small drawing room at Wrexnam Cottage, the curtains were drawn and the fire was roaring.Father and son were playing chess, and the father thought that the game was about to change radically, and put the king on his side in dire and needless peril, which even elicited a comment from the gray-haired old lady, who was quietly talking by the fire. Knitting yarn work. "Listen to the wind," said Mr. White, who saw that he had made a game-changing wrong move, but it was too late, and he kindly tried to keep his son from discovering the mistake.

"I'm listening," said the son, looking grimly at the board, holding out his hand, "checkmate." "I can't believe he's coming tonight," Dad said, hesitating with his hand on the chessboard. "Checkmate," replied the son. "It's a terrible thing to live in so far out," cried Mr. White, with a sudden and unexpected fit of temper. "This is the worst of all the dreadful, muddy and remote dwellings. The lanes are marshes, the There’s a rapid on the road and I don’t know what people are thinking. I guess since there are only two houses for rent on the main road, they think it’s okay.”

"Never mind, dear," his wife reassured him, "maybe you'll win the next game." Mr. White looked up keenly, just in time to see the mother and son exchange a knowing glance, the words disappeared on the lips, and he hid his guilty smile with his sparse gray beard. "Here he is," said Herbert White, as the door slammed and heavy steps came towards the door. The old man stood up quickly and courteously, and opened the door, only to hear him say hard work to the newcomer.The newcomer also thanked himself for his hard work, causing Mrs. White to say "Tut, tut!" when a tall, strong man with a ruddy complexion and small bright eyes followed her husband into the room. When the door came, she coughed lightly.

"Master Sergeant Morris," Mr. White introduced. The sergeant-major shook hands with them, and took the seat reserved for him by the fire, while his master produced whiskey and a tumbler, and set a small copper kettle on the fire, which he watched with satisfaction. On the third cup, his eyes sparkled, he began to talk, and as he sat in his chair with broad shoulders, he talked of strange sights, and heroic deeds, and wars, and pestilences, and strange peoples, and this little family Watching this guest from afar with eager interest. "Twenty-one years," said Mr. White, nodding to his wife and children. "He went away as a gangly lad in the warehouse. But look at him now."

"He doesn't look too traumatized," said Mrs. White politely. "I'd like to go to India myself," said the old man, "just to look around, you understand." "You'd better stay where you are," said the sergeant major, shaking his head.He put down the empty glass, sighed softly, and shook his head again. "I want to see the old temples and the dervishes and the jugglers," said the old man. "You talked about monkey's paw the other day. What's the matter, Maurice?" "Nothing," said the soldier hastily, "at least, nothing worth hearing."

"Monkey's paw?" said Mrs. White curiously. "Well, maybe, it's kind of like what you'd call magic," the sergeant major said without thinking. His three listeners moved forward eagerly.The guest absently brought the empty glass to his lips and put it down again.His master filled him with wine. "It looks," said the sergeant major, groping in his pocket, "that it's just a normal little paw, shriveled into a mummified body." He offered them something from his pocket, and Mrs. White drew it back with a distasteful contortion, but her son took it and examined it curiously.

"What's so special about it?" asked Mr. White, taking the thing from his son, looking at it carefully for a moment, and putting it on the table again. "An old dervish put a spell over it," said the sergeant-major. "He was a very holy man. He wanted to show that fate rules men's lives, and that those who interfere with fate bring misfortune to themselves." .He put a spell on it, so that each of the three people can realize their three wishes through it." His air was so touching that his listeners realized that there was something incongruous in their soft laughter.

"Well, why don't you make three wishes, sir?" asked Herbert White tactfully. The sergeant major looked at him with the eyes that middle-aged people are used to looking at presumptuous young people. "I propose," he said quietly, his blotchy face turning white. "Did your three wishes come true?" asked Mrs. White. "Done," said the Master Sergeant, his cup tapping lightly against his solid teeth. "Is there anyone else wishing?" the old lady asked. "Yes, the first man had his three wishes granted," he answered. "I don't know what the first two were, but the third was for death. Then I got the monkey's paw."

His tone was so heavy that the whole party fell silent. "If you've got three wishes, it's no good for you now, Maurice," said the old man at last. "Then what do you keep it for?" The soldier shook his head. "For fantasy, I guess," he said slowly, "I did think about selling it, but I don't feel like selling it right now. It's done enough harm. Besides, people won't buy it. They think It's a myth, and some of them, and some of those who actually kind of believe it, are going to try it before paying me." "If you could make three other wishes," said the old man, looking at him piercingly, "would you?"

"I don't know," said the other, "I don't know." He took the monkey's paw, dangling it between his forefinger and thumb, and suddenly threw it on the fire.White yelled softly, bent down and hastily removed it. "Better let it burn," said the soldier gravely. "If you don't want it, Maurice," said the old man, "give it to me." "I won't," said his friend obstinately, "I'll throw it into the fire. If you keep it, don't blame me for what happens. Like a wise man, throw it into the fire again." In the fire."

The other party shook his head, carefully inspecting his new things. "How do you wish?" he asked. "Take the monkey's paw in your right hand and wish loudly," said the sergeant major, "but I warn you that there will be serious consequences." "Sounds like the Arabian Nights," said Mrs. White, rising to set the table, "do you think you might wish me four hands?" Her husband took the talisman from his pocket, and the sergeant-major, with a warning look on his face, seized Mr. White's arm, and all three of the family laughed. "If you must wish," he said gruffly, "make some reasonable wishes." Mr. White put the monkey's paw back in his pocket, arranged the chairs, and beckoned his friend to the table.The talisman was somewhat forgotten at supper, after which the three of them sat fascinated listening to the sergeant major talk about the second part of his adventures in India. "If the story about the monkey's paw is not truer than what he has just told us," said Herbert, as the door closed behind his visitor, leaving him just in time to catch the last train, "we will go from it." Can't make many famous halls." "What did you give him with this thing, Daddy?" asked Mrs. White, examining her husband carefully. "Small thing," he said, flushing slightly. "He didn't want it, but I let him have it. He made me throw it away." "Very likely," said Herbert with affected terror. "Hey, we're about to get rich, famous, and happy. Dad, let's start by wishing you an emperor, then you won't be angry with your wife anymore." He sprinted around the table, pursued by the maligned Mrs. White with a sofa-back cover.Mr. White took the monkey's paw from his pocket and looked at it dubiously. "I don't know what to wish for, really," he said slowly, "I think I've got everything I want." "You'll be happy when you've paid off this house, won't you?" said Herbert, putting his hand on his shoulder. "Well, then pray for two hundred pounds, just to pay that bill." The father, smiling ashamedly at his own credulity, took up the talisman, while his son, with an air which would have been more solemn had he not winked at his mother, sat down at the piano. , played a few touching chords. "I would like two hundred pounds," said the old man clearly. A violent blast from the piano greeted the words, but was interrupted by a shuddering cry from the old man.His wife and son ran to him. "It moved," he cried, casting a disgusted glance at the thing lying on the ground, "and it writhed in my hand like a snake as I wished." "Well, I don't see the money," said his son, picking it up and putting it on the table, "I bet I'll never see the money." "This must be your hallucination, Daddy," said his wife, looking at him anxiously. He shook his head. "It's okay, though; it didn't hurt, but it freaked me out anyway." They sat down by the fire again, and the two men finished their pipes.Outside, the wind picked up and the upstairs door slammed and the old man moved nervously.An unnatural, dreary silence enveloped the family of three until the old couple got up and went to bed. "I hope you'll find that money bundled up in a big bag in the middle of your bed," said Herbert, as he bade them good night, "and there will be some There's a horrible thing squatting on top of the wardrobe and watching you." When the winter sun fell on the breakfast table the next morning, Herbert laughed at his fears in the bright sunlight.There was a dull security in the room that had been lacking the night before, and the filthy, shriveled little monkey's paw had been set haphazardly on the sideboard in a sign of less confidence in its efficacy. "I think all veterans are the same," Mrs. White said. "We should listen to such nonsense! How can there be any wish fulfillment now? If it can be fulfilled, how can two hundred pounds hurt you, father?" "Perhaps it will fall on his head," said the frivolous Herbert. "Maurice says it happened so naturally," said his father, "that you might think it was a coincidence, though you wished it that way." "Well, don't touch that money till I come back," said Herbert, rising from the table. "I'm afraid that will make you a selfish and greedy person, so we have no choice but to deny that it has anything to do with you." His mother smiled, followed him to the door, watched him on his way, and returned to the breakfast table to amused herself by her husband's gullibility.But that didn't stop her from rushing to the door when the postman knocked, or making a somewhat harsh reference to the retired sergeant major's drinking habits when she found the postman had brought a tailor's bill. When they sat down to supper she said, "I think there will be more interesting discussions when Herbert comes home." "Nevertheless," said Mr. White, pouring himself a little beer, "I dare say the thing moved in my hand; I'll swear it." "You think it moved," the old lady reassured him. "I said it moved," replied the other, "I didn't think of it then; I just—what happened?" His wife didn't answer.She was watching the mysterious movements of a man outside, who peered into the room hesitantly, as if making up his mind to enter.She thought of the two hundred pounds, and noticed that the stranger was well dressed, with a shiny new silk cap on his head.Three times he stopped at the door, then moved on.For the fourth time he stood there with his hand on the door, and then with a sudden determination he opened it and walked up the path.At the same moment Mrs. White put her hands behind her, unfastened the strings of her apron, and tucked the useful garment under the cushion. She brings the stranger into the house, and he seems disturbed.He peered furtively at Mrs. White, and listened intently as the old lady apologized for being in the house, and for her husband's usual garden coat.Then she waited with all the patience a woman could allow for his announcement, but he was strangely silent at first. "I'm—ordered to call," he said at last, and stooped again to pluck a length of cotton thread from his trousers. "I'm from Maw McKinsey." The old lady was taken aback. "What happened?" She held her breath. "Has anything happened to Herbert? What is it? What is it?" Her husband interrupted. "Ah, ah, mother," he said hastily. "Sit down, and don't jump to conclusions. I trust you have no bad news, sir," and he looked eagerly at the other. "I'm sorry—" the guest began. "Is he hurt?" asked the mother. The guest nodded. "It hurts badly," he said quietly, "but he's not in any pain." "Oh, thank God!" said the old woman, clasping her hands. "Thank God for that! Thank—" She stopped suddenly, and she began to understand the ominous significance of the assurance, and saw in the other man's evasive look that her fears were horribly confirmed.Holding her breath, she turned to her less intelligent husband, and placed her old, trembling hand in his.There was a long silence in the room. "He's caught in the machine," the visitor whispered at last. "Caught by the machine," repeated Mr. White, bewildered, "yes." He sat staring blankly out of the window, taking his wife's hand in his own, and squeezing it tightly, as he had wont to do when they were courting each other nearly forty years before. "He is the only child left with us," he said, turning softly to his guest, "this is cruel." The other coughed a few times and stood up, walking slowly towards the window. "The company would like me to convey to you their sincere sympathy for your great loss," he said, without looking around him. "I ask for your understanding. I am only their servant, and I just obey their orders." There was no answer; the old woman's face was pale, and her breathing could not be heard from her eyes, and her husband had the look on his friend's sergeant-major when he first went into battle. "I will state that the Maw McKinsey Company disclaims any responsibility," continued the other party, "and they do not assume any obligation, but in consideration of your son's service to the company, they are willing to give you a sum of money as compensation." Mr. White dropped his wife's hand and stood up, gazing at his guest in horror.His dry lips moved, forming two words: "How much?" The answer was "two hundred pounds". Unaware of his wife's screams, the old man smiled feebly, stretched out his hands like a blind man, and fell to the ground like a heap of insentient things. In the vast new cemetery about two miles from their home, the old couple buried their dead son and returned to the house immersed in shadow and silence.It all passed so quickly that at first they barely realized it, and remained in a state of anticipation, as if something else was going to happen—something else that would lighten the burden that was so important to the old man. The heart is too heavy. But the days passed, and anticipation gave way to resignation—a hopeless obedience to what was past, sometimes mistakenly called indifference.Sometimes the two of them hardly spoke a word, because now they had nothing to talk about, and their days were long and tiresome. One night about a week after that, the old man woke up suddenly, reached out his hand, and found himself alone.The room was dark, and there was a soft cry from the window.He got up on the bed and listened. "Come back," he said softly, "you'll be cold." "It's colder for my son," said the old woman, and wept again. Her sobbing gradually faded from his ears.The bed was warm, and sleepiness made his eyelids heavy.He dozed and fell asleep in fits and starts, until a sudden frantic cry from his wife awakened him. "Monkey's paw!" she cried furiously, "Monkey's paw!" He jumped up in horror. "Where? Where is it? What happened?" She stumbled towards him from the other side of the room. "I want it," she said quietly. "You didn't destroy it, did you?" "In the parlour, above the bay," he answered, surprised. "why?" She cried and laughed, bending down to kiss his cheek. "I just thought of it," she said hysterically. "Why didn't I think of it before? Why didn't you think of it?" "Thought what?" he asked. "Two other wishes," she replied quickly. "We only wished once." "Isn't that enough?" he asked fiercely. "No," she exclaimed triumphantly, "we will bless once more. Go down and fetch it, and bless our child again." The old man sat up from the bed and lifted the quilt to reveal his trembling lower limbs. "My God, you're crazy!" he exclaimed, petrified. "Go and fetch it," she panted, "fetch it quickly, wish--oh, my boy, my boy!" Her husband struck a match and lit a candle. "Come back to bed," he said tentatively, "you don't know what you're talking about." "Our first wish has come true," said the old woman enthusiastically, "why won't the second one come true?" "A coincidence," stammered the old man. "Go and bless it," cried the old woman, dragging him toward the door. He went downstairs in the darkness, groped into the drawing room, then groped to the mantelpiece.The talisman was in the same place, and he was terrified that that unspoken wish might bring his crippled son to him before he escaped from the house, and when he found himself unable to find the way to the door, I can't even catch my breath.Cold sweat broke out on his brow, and he groped around the table and along the walls until he found himself in the little aisle with the nasty thing in his hand. Even his wife's face seemed to change when he entered the room.The face was pale and expectant, and what frightened him was that it seemed to have an unnatural expression.He was afraid of her. "Best wishes!" she cried, her voice forceful. "It's stupid and wicked," he said in a trembling voice. "Best wishes!" said his wife again. He held up his hands. "I wish my son the resurrection." The talisman fell to the floor, and he looked at it tremblingly.When the old woman walked to the window and lifted the curtain with fiery eager eyes, he fell tremblingly on the chair. He sat, occasionally watching the figure of the old woman peeping out of the window, until he was chilled.The ends of the candles burning under the rims of the ceramic candlesticks cast dancing shadows on the ceiling and walls until the flames flickered violently and went out.The old man, inexpressibly relieved by the failure of the amulet, crawled into bed, and a minute or two later the old woman slipped into bed, and lay indifferent beside him. No one spoke, and the couple listened quietly to the ticking of the clock.A staircase creaked, and a creaking mouse scurried noisily across the wall.The darkness was oppressive, and after lying down for a while, the husband mustered up his courage, picked up the matchbox, lit a match, and went downstairs for a candle. At the foot of the stairs the match went out and he stopped to strike another match when at the same moment there was a knock on the front door so soft it was almost inaudible. The match fell from his hand.He stood motionless and stopped breathing until he heard another knock at the door.So he turned and ran quickly back to the room, closing the door behind him.A third knock rang through the house. "What's that?" cried the old woman, raising herself up abruptly. "A mouse," said the old man, in a trembling voice--"a mouse, it ran past me on the stairs." His wife sat up in bed to listen.A loud knock on the door echoed throughout the house. "It's Herbert!" she screamed. "It's Herbert!" She ran for the door, but her husband was ahead of her, and he grabbed her arm and held her tightly. "What are you doing?" he whispered hoarsely. "It's my child, it's Herbert!" she cried, struggling mechanically. "I just forgot the graveyard was two miles away. What are you holding me for? Let me go, I have to 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 yelled, struggling. "Let me go. I'm coming, Herbert; I'm coming." Another knock on the door, and another.The old woman twisted suddenly, pulled away, and ran out of the house.As she hurried down the stairs, her husband ran to the landing and begged for her.He heard the rattle of the door chain as the lower latch was slowly and laboriously pulled out of the socket.Then came the strained, panting voice of the old woman. "Latch," she cried, "come down, I can't reach it." But her husband was on all fours, frantically groping around, looking for the monkey's paw.If only he could find it before the thing outside came in.A series of violent knocks echoed through the house, and he heard the scraping of chairs as his wife put them down against the door in the passage.He heard the creak of the latch slowly coming out, and at the same moment he found the monkey's paw, and whispered his third and last wish frantically. The knocking died away suddenly, though its echo still echoed through the house.He heard the chair pulled back and the door open.A cold wind rushed up the stairs, and his wife let out a long, loud wail of despair and anguish, which roused him to run down to her, and then to the door.The flickering street lamps on the opposite side illuminate the silent and desolate road.