THE LADY OF THE BARGE
AND OTHER STORIES

THE MONKEY’S PAW

I.

Without, the night was cold and wet, but in the small parlour of Laburnam Villathe blinds were drawn and the fire burned brightly. Father and son were atchess, the former, who possessed ideas about the game involving radicalchanges, putting his king into such sharp and unnecessary perils that it evenprovoked 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 itwas too late, was amiably desirous of preventing his son from seeing it.

“I’m listening,” said the latter, grimly surveying the board as he stretchedout his hand. “Check.”

“I should hardly think that he’d come to-night,” said his father, with his handpoised over the board.

“Mate,” replied the son.

“That’s the worst of living so far out,” bawled Mr. White, with sudden andunlooked-for violence; “of all the beastly, slushy, out-of-the-way places tolive in, this is the worst. Pathway’s a bog, and the road’s a torrent. I don’tknow what people are thinking about. I suppose because only two houses in theroad are let, they think it doesn’t matter.”

“Never mind, dear,” said his wife, soothingly; “perhaps you’ll win the nextone.”

Mr. White looked up sharply, just in time to intercept a knowing glance betweenmother and son. The words died away on his lips, and he hid a guilty grin inhis thin grey beard.

“There he is,” said Herbert White, as the gate banged to loudly and heavyfootsteps came toward the door.

The old man rose with hospitable haste, and opening the door, was heardcondoling with the new arrival. The new arrival also condoled with himself, sothat Mrs. White said, “Tut, tut!” and coughed gently as her husband entered theroom, 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 whiskey and tumblers and stood asmall copper kettle on the fire.

At the third glass his eyes got brighter, and he began to talk, the littlefamily circle regarding with eager interest this visitor from distant parts, ashe squared his broad shoulders in the chair and spoke of wild scenes anddoughty deeds; of wars and plagues and strange peoples.

“Twenty-one years of it,” said Mr. White, nodding at his wife and son. “When hewent 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 downthe empty glass, and sighing softly, shook it again.

“I should like to see those old temples and fakirs and jugglers,” said the oldman. “What was that you started telling me the other day about a monkey’s pawor 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 thesergeant-major, offhandedly.

His three listeners leaned forward eagerly. The visitor absent-mindedly put hisem

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