The Monkey’s Paw

by W. W. Jacobs

"Be careful what you wish for, you may receive it." – Anonymous

Part I

Outside the night was cold and wet but in the small living room, the curtains were closed and the fire burnt brightly. Father and son were playing chess; the older player, who had radical ideas about  the role of luck in the game, put his king into such unnecessary danger that even the white-haired old lady sitting quietly by the fire made comments on it.

"Listen to the wind," said Mr. White, who, seeing a fatal mistake after it was too late, was trying to prevent his son from noticing it.

"I'm listening," said his son looking at the board. "Check."

"I shouldn’t think that he's coming tonight," said his father, with his hand above the board.

"Mate," replied the son.

"That's the worst of living  so far away from everywhere," shouted Mr. White with sudden  and unexpected violence. "Of all the horrible, out-of-the-way places to live, this is the worst. The path's like a stream and the road's a sea. I don't know what people are thinking. I suppose because only two  houses in the road are let, they think it doesn't matter."

"Never mind, dear," said his wife gently. "Perhaps you'll win the next one."

Mr. White looked up sharply, just in time to see a knowing glance between mother and son. The words died on his lips, and he hid a guilty smile in his thin grey beard.

"There he is," said Herbert White as the gate shut loudly and heavy  footsteps came towards the door.

The old man got up quickly, like a good host and opened the door. Mother and son could hear him  chatting with the new arrival before bringing him in to the living room.

"Sergeant Morris," he said, introducing him to his wife and son.

The sergeant shook hands and, taking the seat by the fire, watched happily as his host  got out whisky and glasses and put a small kettle on the fire.

At the third glass his eyes got brighter and he began to talk, the little family circle looking with interest at this visitor from far away, as he spoke of wild scenes, of wars and strange people.

"Twenty-one years of it," said Mr. White, nodding at his wife and son. "When he went away he was a youth. Now look at him."

"He looks like it has done him good." said Mrs. White politely.

"I'd like to go to India myself," said the old man, “just to look around a bit, you know."

"You’re better where you are," said the sergeant, shaking his head. He put down the empty glass.

"I would like to see those old temples," 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 quickly. "At least nothing worth hearing."

"Monkey's paw?" asked Mrs. White curiously.

"Well, it's just a bit of magic, perhaps." said the sergeant off-handedly.

His three listeners leaned forward. The visitor absent-mindedly  put his empty glass to his lips and then put it down again. His host filled it for him again.

"To look at," said the sergeant, "it's just an ordinary dried little paw."

He took something out of his pocket and offered it to Mrs. White but she moved back with a grimace, though her son examined it with great interest.

"And what’s special about it?" asked Mr. White, as he took it from his son and, having inspected it, placed it on the table.

"It had a spell put on it," said the sergeant, "by a very holy Indian man. He wanted to show that fate  controlled people's lives and that those who interfered with it did so at their own risk. He put a spell on it so that three separate men could each have three wishes from it."

"Well, why don't you have three, sir?" said Mr. White cleverly.

The soldier looked at him the way that middle age sees unthinking youth. "I have," he said quietly and his face whitened.

"And did you really get the  three wishes?" asked Mrs. White.

"I did," said the sergeant.

"And has anybody else wished?" continued the old lady.

"The first man had his three wishes," 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 voice was so grave that silence fell on 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. "I had an idea of selling it but I don't think I will. It has caused me 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 afterwards."

"If you could have another three wishes," said the old man, eyeing him interestedly, "would you have them?"

"I don't know," said the other. "I don't know."

He took the paw and, playing with it between his fingers and thumb, suddenly threw it on the fire. White, with a slight cry, bent down and snatched it.

"Better to let it burn," said the soldier seriously.

"If you don't want it, Morris," said the other, "give it to me."

"I won't," said his friend stubbornly. "I threw it on the fire. If you keep it, don't blame me for what happens. Put it back on the fire like a sensible man."

The other shook his head and examined his new possession closely. "How do you use it?" he asked.

"Hold it up in your right hand and make your wish aloud," said the sergeant, "But I warn you of the consequences."

"Sounds very strange!”, said Mrs. White, as she got up and began to prepare the supper. "You might wish for four hands for me!"

Her husband took the paw from his pocket and all three burst into laughter as the sergeant, with a look of alarm on his face, caught him by the arm.

"If you must wish," he said angrily, "wish for something sensible."

Mr. White dropped it back in his pocket and asked his friend to the table. As they ate supper, the paw was partly forgotten and afterwards the three sat listening to the soldier's adventures in India.

"If the paw is not any  better than his adventures,” said Mr. White, as the door  closed behind their guest just in time to catch the last train, "we shan't make much out of it."

"Did you give him anything for it?" asked Mrs. White, looking at her husband closely.

"A little," said he, colouring slightly, "He didn't want it, but I made him take it. And he told me again to throw it away."

"Why, we're going to be rich and famous and happy. I’ll wish to be an emperor to begin with; then I won’t be controlled by my wife."

He ran around the table, followed by Mrs. White, armed with a fork.

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."

"Well, wish for two hundred pounds, then. That'll just do it", said his son.

His father, ashamed of his own credulity, held up the paw, as his son sat down at the piano.

"I wish for two hundred pounds," said the old man and then cried out. His wife and son ran towards him.

"It moved," he cried, with a glance at the object on the floor. "As I wished, it moved 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 never shall."

"It must have been your imagination," said his wife, looking at him anxiously.

He shook his head. "Never mind, though; there's no harm done, but it gave me a shock."

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 jumped nervously at the sound of a door banging upstairs. A silence – unusual and depressing – lasted until the old couple  went to bed for the night.

"I expect you'll find the cash in a big bag in the middle of your bed," said Herbert, as he said goodnight, "and something horrible  sitting on top of your wardrobe watching you as you pocket your money."

He sat alone in the darkness, gazing at the dying fire and seeing faces in it. The last was so horrible  and so similar to a monkey that he looked at it in amazement. It got so vivid that, with a little uneasy laugh, he felt on the table for a  glass with a little water to throw over it. His hand though touched the monkey's paw, and with a little shiver he cleaned his hand on his  coat and went up to bed.

Part II

In the brightness of the wintry sun next morning as it shone over the breakfast table, he laughed at his fears. There was an air of normalness about the room which the weather and the  darkness the previous night had made them forget, and the dirty little paw was  thrown on the coffee table with a carelessness which showed  no great belief in its power.

"I suppose all old soldiers are the same," said Mrs. White. "How could wishes come true these days? And if they could, how could two hundred pounds hurt you?"

"It might drop on his head from the sky," said Herbert.

"Morris said the things happened so naturally," said his father, "that they seemed like coincidence."

"Well don't spend all the  money before I come back," said Herbert as he got up from the table. "I'm afraid it'll turn you into a mean man and we shall have to leave you."

His mother laughed and, following him to the door, watched him walk down the road. Returning to the breakfast table, she laughed at her husband's credulity. But this did not prevent her from hurrying to the door at the postman's knock nor prevent her from mentioning the drinking habits of retired sergeants when she found that the post brought a bill.

"Herbert will make more funny remarks, I expect, when he comes home," she said as they sat at dinner.

"I expect so," said Mr. White, pouring himself out some more tea; "but, for all that, the thing moved in my hand, I promise."

"You thought it did," said the old lady gently.

"I say it did," he replied. "There was no doubt about it. I had just – What's the matter?"

His wife made no reply. She was watching a man moving  around strangely outside. He was looking in an undecided way at the house and seemed to be trying to  make up his mind to enter. Thinking for a moment about  the two hundred pounds, she noticed that the stranger was well dressed. Three times he paused at the gate and then walked on again. The fourth time he stood with his hand on it and then with sudden decision opened it and walked up the path.

She brought the stranger, who seemed uncomfortable, into the room. He listened in a preoccupied  way as the old lady apologised for the appearance of the room. She then waited as patiently as she could for him to mention his business, but he was at first strangely silent.

"I – was asked to call," he said at last, 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 interrupted. "Sit down and don't jump to conclusions. You've not brought bad news, I'm sure sir."

"I'm sorry – " began the visitor.

"Is he hurt?" demanded the mother wildly.

The visitor nodded. "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 stopped as she slowly understood. Turning to her husband, she put her trembling hand on his. There was a long silence.

"He was caught in the machinery," said the visitor at last in a low voice.

"Caught in the machinery," repeated Mr. White, dazed, "yes."

He sat staring out the window and, taking his wife's hand between his own, pressed it as he had nearly forty years before.

"He was the only one," he said, turning gently to the visitor. "It is hard."

The other coughed and walked slowly to the window. "The firm wishes to show their  sympathy to you in your great loss," he said, without looking round. "I am only an employee and  following instructions."

There was no reply; the old woman’s face was white, her eyes staring, and her breath inaudible.

"I was asked to say that Maw and Meggins," continued the other, "accept no liability at all. They wish to give you some money 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 scream, the old man smiled faintly, put out his hands like a blind man and fell to the floor.

Part III

In the new cemetery, the old people buried their son and came back to the house standing in shadows and silence. It was all over so quickly that at first they could not understand and expected something else to happen – something else to ease their load, too heavy for old hearts.

But the days passed and  expectations became resignation – the hopeless resignation of the old. Sometimes they hardly said a word, for now they had nothing to talk about and their days were long.

It was about a week after that the old man, waking suddenly in the night, found himself alone. The room was in darkness and  the sound of quiet crying came from the window. He sat up in bed and listened.

"Come back," he said gently. "You will be cold."

"It is colder for my son," said the old woman, and cried again.

The sounds of her crying became softer. The bed was warm and his eyes were heavy with sleep. He dozed until a sudden wild cry from his wife woke him up suddenly.

"THE PAW!" she cried wildly. "THE MONKEY'S PAW!"

He shouted in alarm. "Where? Where is it? What’s the matter?"

She came across the room towards him. "I want it," she said quietly. "You've not destroyed it?"

"It's in the living room," he replied. "Why?"

She cried and laughed at the same time and kissed his cheek.

"I’ve only just thought of it," she said. "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 quickly. "We've only had one."

"Wasn’t that enough?" he demanded angrily.

"No," she cried; "We'll have one more. Go down and get it quickly and wish our boy alive again."

The man sat up in bed. "Good God, you’re mad!"

"Get it, get it quickly, and wish – Oh my boy, my boy!"

Her husband lit the candle. "Get back to bed,” he said unsteadily. “You don't know what you’re saying."

"We got the first wish," said the old woman; "why not the second?"

"A coincidence," whispered the old man.

"Go and get it and wish," cried his wife with excitement.

The old man turned and looked at her and his voice shook. "He has been dead ten days, and besides he – I didn’t want to tell you, but – I could only recognize him by his clothing. If he was too terrible for you to see then, imagine what he will look like now."

"Bring him back," cried the old woman and pulled him towards the door. "Do you think I’m afraid of the child I have brought up?"

He went down in the darkness and felt his way to the living room. The paw was in its place and a horrible fear that the unspoken wish might bring his mutilated son to him before he could escape from the room made him rush to the door. Cold with sweat, he felt his way round the table and along the wall until he was in the small passage with the paw in his hand.

Even his wife's face seemed changed as he entered the room. It was white and expectant with an unnatural look on it. He was afraid of her.

"WISH!" she screamed.

"It is stupid and wrong," he muttered.

"WISH!" repeated his wife.

He raised his hand. "I wish my son alive again."

The paw fell to the floor. Then he sank trembling into  a chair as the old woman, with burning eyes, walked to the window.

He sat until he was cold, glancing occasionally at the old woman staring through the window. The old man, relieved about the failure  of the paw to work its magic, crept back to his bed and a minute afterwards the old woman came silently and apathetically beside him.

Neither spoke but lay silently  listening to the clock. The darkness was oppressive and, after lying for some time to get his courage back, he went downstairs for a candle. When he was at the bottom of the stairs, a knock came so quietly on the front door that it was almost inaudible. He stood motionless until the knock was repeated. Then he turned and ran quickly back to his room and closed the door behind him.

"WHAT'S THAT?" cried the old woman, getting up.

"A rat," said the old man in a shaking voice, "a rat. It passed me on the stairs."

His wife sat up in bed listening. "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.

"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 push broke free and ran from the room. Her husband followed and called after her as she hurried downstairs.

"The lock," she cried loudly. "Come down. I can't open it."

But her husband was on his  hands and knees on the floor in search of the paw. If only he could find it before the thing outside got in. He heard the lock as it came slowly back and, at the same moment, he found the monkey's paw and breathed his third and last wish.

The knocking stopped suddenly, although its echoes were still in the house. He heard the lock and the door opened. A cold wind rushed up the  stairs and a long loud cry of disappointment and misery from his wife gave him the courage to run down to her side and then to the gate. The street lamp opposite them shone on a quiet and deserted road.