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

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 it 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.

The old man rose with hospitable haste, and opening the door, was heard condoling with the new arrival.

Mrs. White drew back with a grimace, but her son, taking it, examined it curiously.

He wanted to show that fate ruled people's lives, and that those who interfered with it did so to their sorrow.

His tones were so grave that a hush fell upon the group.

"Better let it burn," said the soldier, solemnly.

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

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.

He darted round the table, pursued by the maligned Mrs. White armed with an antimacassar.

Mr. White took the paw from his pocket and eyed it dubiously.

His father, smiling shamefacedly 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 chords.

The last face was so horrible and so simian that he gazed at it in amazement.

There was an air of prosaic wholesomeness about the room which it had lacked on the previous night, and the dirty, shrivelled little paw was pitched on the sideboard with a carelessness which betokened no great belief in its virtues.

"Morris said the things happened so naturally," said his father, "that you might if you so wished attribute it to coincidence."

"I'm afraid it'll turn you into a mean, avaricious man, and we shall have to disown you."

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 other's averted face.

"The firm wished me to convey their sincere sympathy with you in your great loss," he said, without looking round.

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.

"They admit no liability at all, but in consideration of your son's services, they wish to present you with a certain sum as compensation."

But the days passed, and expectation gave place to resignation—the hopeless resignation of the old, sometimes miscalled, apathy.

The room was in darkness, and the sound of subdued weeping came from the window.

"Good God, you are mad!" he cried, aghast.

The talisman was in its place, and a horrible fear that the unspoken wish might bring his mutilated son before him ere he 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.

"It is foolish and wicked," he faltered.

The candle-end, which had burned 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 darkness was oppressive, and after lying for some time screwing up his courage, he 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.

A perfect fusillade 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.