Chapter 3

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 Maw and Meggins disclaim all responsibility," continued the

other. "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."

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 shriek, the old man smiled faintly, put out his hands like a

sightless man, and dropped, a senseless heap, to the floor.

III.

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 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 sobs 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 in 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 parlour, on the bracket," he replied, marvelling. "Why?" She cried and laughed together, and bending over, kissed his 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 not that 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 bedclothes from his quaking limbs. "Good God,

you are 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 are 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 has 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 felt his way to the parlour, and then to the

mantelpiece. 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. His brow cold with sweat, he felt his way round 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.