Daily Short Stories - Mystery & Suspense

The Monkey's Paw

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Duration:: 25m
Broadcast on:: 07 Jul 2024
Audio Format:: mp3

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For a limited time, you can get a one-month free trial to our premium, ad-free service. Imagine having unlimited access to over 500 audiobooks, meditative sounds, and exclusive shows, all at your fingertips. Just head over to Saulgoodmedia.com and sign up to start your free trial today. No ads, no interruptions just pure, immersive audio content. Don't miss out. Transform your listening experience with Saulgoodmedia. Visit Saulgoodmedia.com and start your free trial now. We can't wait for you to join our audio community. Happy listening. The Monkey's Paw by W.W. Jacobs. Without the night was cold and wet, but in the small part of La Burnham 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 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, bald 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. 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." Mr. White looked up sharply, just in time, to intercept a gnawing glance between mother and son. The words died away on his lips, and he hit 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 Mrs. White said, and coughed gently as her husband entered the room, followed by a tall, burly man, beady of eye, and rubicand of visage. "Sargent 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 dowdy deeds of wars and plagues and strange peoples. "21 years of it," said Mr. White, nodding as his wife and son. When he went away he was a slip of 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 around a bit, you know. Better where you are," said the sergeant major, shaking his head. He put down the empty glass, and sang softly, shook it again. "I should like to see those old temples and fuckers and jugglers," said the old man. "What was that you started telling me the other day about a monkey's paw or something more us?" "Nothing," said the soldier hastily. "Least why is nothing worth hearing?" "Monkeys paw," said Mrs. White curiously. "Well, it's just a bit of what you might call magic," 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. Mrs. White drew back with a grimace, but her son, taking it, examined it curiously. "And what is their special about it?" inquired Mr. White as he took it from his son, and having examined it placed upon the table. "It had a spell put on it by an old fucker," 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 heroes 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 ages 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 Mrs. White. "I did," said the sergeant major, and his glass tapped against the 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. "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, awkwardly. "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 all 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," she 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 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 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 hand-packed." He darted around the table, pursued by the malign Mrs. White, armed with an Auntie McCosser. 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 shame-facedly 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 cords. "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 paw was pitched on the sideboard with a carelessness which betoken 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 your 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, aboricious 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'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 bell. Herbert will have some more of these funny remarks I expect when he comes home, she said, as they sat at dinner. "I dare say," said Mr. 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, appearing 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 flinging 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 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 Ma and Meghan'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, any idea other, wistfully." "I'm sorry," began the visitor. "Is he hurt?" demanded the mother. The visitor bowed in a scent. "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 others averted face. She caught her breath and, turning to her floor, with her 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 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 in your great loss," he said, without looking round. "I beg that you will understand I am only their servant in 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 Ma and Meghan's 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. Mr. White dropped his wife's hand and rising to his feet, gazed with a look of horror at his visitor. His dry lip 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 the 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 sobbed 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 an 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 parter on the bracket," he replied, marveling. "Why?" She cried and laughed together and bending over Kisty's 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 bed close 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're 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 had 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 fell his way to the parter and then to the mantelpiece. The talisman was in its place, and a horrible fear that the unspoken wish might bring his mutilated sun before him. Eric 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, was swept. 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 the 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 afterward, the old woman came silently and apothetically 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 horsley. "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 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 fuselage 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 bend to the gate beyond. The street lamp, flickering opposite, shown on a quiet, and deserted road. End of the monkey's paw.