The Monkey's Paw by W.W. Jacobs Summary

 

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

PART ONE

Outside, the night was cold and wet, but in the small living room the curtains were closed and the fire burned brightly. Father and son were playing chess; the father, whose ideas about the game involved some very unusual moves, putting his king into such sharp and unnecessary danger that it even brought comment from the white-haired old lady knitting quietly by the fire.

“Listen to the wind,” said Mr. White who, having seen a mistake that could cost him the game after it was too late, was trying to stop his son from seeing it.

“I’m listening,” said the son, seriously studying the board as he stretched out his hand. “Check.”

Mr. White was extremely disappointed in his failure.

“Never mind, dear,” said his wife calmly; “perhaps you’ll win the next one.

As the gate banged shut loudly and heavy footsteps came toward the door.

 

The old man rose quickly and opening the door.

 

“Sergeant-Major Morris,” he said, introducing him to his wife and his son, Herbert.

The Sergeant-Major shook hands and, taking the offered seat by the fire, watched with satisfaction as Mr. White got out whiskey and glasses.

 

After the third glass his eyes got brighter and he began to talk. The little family circle listened with growing interest to this visitor from distant parts, as he squared his broad shoulders in the chair and spoke of wild scenes and brave acts; of wars and strange people.

 

“Twenty-one years of it,” said Mr. White, looking at his wife and son. “When he went away he was a thin young man. Now look at him.”

 

“I’d like to go to India myself,” said Mr. White, 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 sighing softly, shook it again.

 

“I should like to see those old temples and fakirs and the street entertainers,” said Mr. White. “What was that 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?” said Mrs. White curiously.

“Well, it’s just a bit of what you might call magic, perhaps,” said the Sergeant-Major,

 

His three listeners leaned forward excitedly. Deep in thought, the visitor put his empty glass to his lips and then set it down again. Mr. White filled it for him again. “To look at it,” said the Sergeant-Major, feeling about in his pocket, “it’s just an ordinary little paw, dried to a mummy.”

 

He took something out of his pocket and held it out for them. Mrs. White drew back with a look of disgust, but her son, taking it, examined it curiously.

 

“And what is there special about it?” asked 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 put a spell on it so that three different men could each have three wishes from it.”

 

The way he told the story showed that he truly believed it and his listeners became aware that their light laughter was out of place and had hurt him a little.

“Well, why don’t you have three, sir?” said Herbert, cleverly.

“And did you really have the three wishes granted?” asked Mrs. White.

 

“And has anybody else wished?” continued 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 voice was so serious that the group fell quiet.

 

 

“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 me enough trouble already. Besides, people won’t buy.

 

He took the paw, and holding it between his front finger and thumb, suddenly threw it upon the fire. Mr. White, with a slight cry, quickly bent down and took it off.

“Better let it burn,” said the soldier sadly, but in a way that let them know he believed it to be true.

 

“If you don’t want it Morris,” said the other, “give it to me.”

“I won’t.” said his friend with stubborn determination. “I threw it on the fire. If you keep it, don’t hold me responsible for what happens. Throw it on the fire like a sensible man.”

“How can we work with this?”  asked Mr. white

 

“Hold it up in your right hand, and state your wish out loud so that you can be heard,” said the Sergeant-Major, “But I warn you of what might happen.”

“Sounds like the ‘Arabian Nights’”, said Mrs. White, as she rose and began to set the dinner.

 

Mr. White took the paw from his pocket and eyed it doubtfully. “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.”

 

Herbert said, with his hand on his shoulder. “Well, wish for two hundred pounds, then; that’ll just do it.”

 

“I wish for two hundred pounds,” said the old man clearly.

 

A fine crash from the piano greeted his words, broken by a frightened cry from the old man. His wife and son ran toward him. “It moved,” he cried, with a look of horror 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.

 

He shook his head. “Never mind, though; there’s no harm done, but it gave me a shock all the same.”

 

An unusual and depressing silence settled on all three, which lasted until the old couple got up to go to bed.

 

 

PART TWO

“I suppose all old soldiers are the same,” said Mrs. White. “The idea of our listening to such nonsense!

 

“Morris said the things happened so naturally,” said Mr. White.

 

“Well don’t break into the money before I come back,” said Herbert as he rose from the table to go to work.

 

His mother laughed, and following him to the door, watched him go down the road, and returning to the breakfast table.

She was watching the mysterious movements of a man outside, who, looking 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 shiny newness. Three times he stopped briefly at the gate, and then walked on again. The fourth time he stood with his hand upon it, and then with sudden firmness of mind pushed it open and walked up the path. Mrs White at the same moment placed her hands behind her, hurriedly untied the strings of her apron, and put it under the cushion of her chair.

 

She brought the stranger, who seemed a little uncomfortable, into the room.

 

“I – was asked to call,” he said at last, and bent down and picked a piece of cotton from his trousers. “I come from ‘Maw and Meggins.’

“The old lady jumped suddenly, as in alarm. “Is anything the matter?” she asked breathlessly. “Has anything happened to Herbert? What is it? What is it?”

 

Her husband spoke before he could answer. “There there mother,” he said hurriedly. “Sit down, and don’t jump to a conclusion. 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 lowered and raised his head once in agreement.” Badly hurt,” he said quietly, “but he is not in any pain.” “Oh thank God!” said the old woman, pressing her hands together tightly. “Thank God for that! Thank – ”

 

The man had turned his head slightly so as not to look directly at her, but she saw the awful truth in his face. She caught her breath, and turning to her husband, who did not yet understand the man’s meaning, laid her shaking hand on 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, too shocked to think clearly, “yes.”

 

“He was the only one left to us,” he said, turning gently to the visitor. “It is hard.”

 

“I was to say that Maw and Meggins accept no responsibility,” continued the other. “But, although they don’t believe that they have a legal requirement to make a payment to you for your loss, in view of your son’s services they wish to present you with a certain sum.”

 

“How much?”

“Two hundred pounds,” was the answer.

Without hearing his wife’s scream, the old man smiled weakly, put out his hands like a blind man, and fell, a senseless mass, to the floor.

 

 

PART THREE

In the huge new cemetery, some two miles away, the old people buried their dead, and came back to the house which was now full of shadows and silence.

But the days passed, and they realized that they had to accept the situation.

It was about a week after that the old man, waking suddenly in the night, stretched out his hand and found himself alone. The room was in darkness, and he could hear the sound of his wife crying quietly at 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, who began crying again.

He slept lightly at first, and then was fully asleep until a sudden wild cry from his wife woke him with a start.

“THE PAW!” she cried wildly. “THE MONKEY’S PAW!” He started up in alarm. “Where? Where is it? What’s the matter?”

She almost fell as she came hurried across the room toward him.

“I want it,” she said quietly. “You’ve not destroyed it?”

“It’s in the living room, on the shelf above the fireplace,” he replied. “Why?”

 

“I 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.”

“Was not that enough?” he demanded angrily.

 

“No,” she cried excitedly; “We’ll have one more. Go down and get it quickly, and wish our boy alive again.”

 

“Get it,” she said, breathing quickly; “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,” his voice shaking. “You don’t know what you are saying.”

“We had the first wish granted,” said the old woman, desperately; “why not the second?”

 

The old man turned and looked at her, and his voice shook. “He has been dead ten days, and besides he – I would not tell you before, 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 pulled him towards the door.

 

“WISH!” she cried in a strong voice.

“It is foolish and wicked,” he said weakly.

“WISH!” repeated his wife.

He raised his hand. “I wish my son alive again.”

The talisman fell to the floor, and he looked at it fearfully. Then he sank into a chair and the old woman, with burning eyes, walked to the window and opened the curtains.

They heard nothing else other than the normal night sounds. The darkness was depressing, and at the same moment a knock sounded on the front door. It was so quiet that it could only be heard downstairs.

He stood motionless, not even breathing, until the knock was repeated. Then he turned and ran quickly back to his room, and closed the door behind him. A third knock sounded through the house.

“WHAT’S THAT?” cried the old woman, sitting up quickly.

“A rat,” said the old man shakily – “a rat. It passed me on the stairs.”

His wife sat up in bed listening. A loud knock echoed through the house.

“It’s Herbert!” she screamed. “It’s Herbert!”

 

She ran to the door, but her husband was there before her, and catching her by the arm, held her tightly. “What are you going to do?” he asked in a low, scared voice.

 

“It’s my boy; it’s Herbert!” she cried, struggling automatically.

“I forgot it was two miles away. What are you holding me for?

Let me go. I must open the door.”

“For God’s sake don’t let it in,” cried the old man, shaking with fear.

“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 pull broke free and ran from the room. Her husband followed to the top of the stairs, and called after her as she hurried down. He heard the chain pulled back and the bottom lock open. Then the old woman’s voice, desperate and breathing heavily.

 

But her husband was on his hands and knees feeling around wildly on the floor in search of the paw. If only he could find it before the thing outside got in. The knocks came very quickly now echoing through the house, and he heard the noise of his wife moving a chair and putting it down against the door. He heard the movement of the lock as she began to open it, and at the same moment he found the monkey’s paw, and frantically breathed his third and last wish. The knocking stopped suddenly, although the echoes of it were still in the house. He heard the chair pulled back, and the door opened. A cold wind blew up the staircase, and a long loud cry of disappointment and pain from his wife gave him the courage to run down to her side, and then to the gate. The streetlight opposite shone on a quiet and deserted road.

 

 QUESTIONS

1. Who is Mr. White?
2. What happened to their son, Mr. Herbert?
3. What was the power of the Monkey’s Paw?
4. How did the Whites get the Monkey’s Paw?
5. What were the three wishes made by Mr. White in the story?
6. What was the final wish?
7. Comment on the ending of the story The Monkey’s Paw?
8. Describe the weather and its influence on the theme of the
story?
9. Does fate rule our lives or do we have some control over
what happens to us? Explain your viewpoint based on the
story The Monkey’s Paw