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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:39:02 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:39:02 -0700 |
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diff --git a/12122-h/12122-h.htm b/12122-h/12122-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4042384 --- /dev/null +++ b/12122-h/12122-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,868 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Monkey’s Paw, by W. W. Jacobs</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12122 ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:55%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<h1>THE LADY OF THE BARGE<br/> +AND OTHER STORIES</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">By W. W. Jacobs</h2> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>THE MONKEY’S PAW</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>I.</h2> + +<p> +Without, the night was cold and wet, but in the small parlour of Laburnam 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 it even +provoked comment from the white-haired old lady knitting placidly by the fire. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m listening,” said the latter, grimly surveying the board as he stretched +out his hand. “Check.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should hardly think that he’d come to-night,” said his father, with his hand +poised over the board. +</p> + +<p> +“Mate,” replied the son. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the worst of living so far out,” bawled 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. Pathway’s a bog, and the road’s a torrent. I don’t +know what people are thinking about. I suppose because only two houses in the +road are let, they think it doesn’t matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind, dear,” said his wife, soothingly; “perhaps you’ll win the next +one.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. White looked up sharply, just in time to intercept a knowing glance between +mother and son. The words died away on his lips, and he hid a guilty grin in +his thin grey beard. +</p> + +<p> +“There he is,” said Herbert White, as the gate banged to loudly and heavy +footsteps came toward the door. +</p> + +<p> +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, “Tut, tut!” and coughed gently as her husband entered the +room, followed by a tall, burly man, beady of eye and rubicund of visage. +</p> + +<p> +“Sergeant-Major Morris,” he said, introducing him. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 wild scenes and +doughty deeds; of wars and plagues and strange peoples. +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty-one years of it,” said Mr. White, nodding at his wife and son. “When he +went away he was a slip of a youth in the warehouse. Now look at him.” +</p> + +<p> +“He don’t look to have taken much harm,” said Mrs. White, politely. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to go to India myself,” said the old man, “just to look round a bit, +you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Better where you are,” said the sergeant-major, shaking his head. He put down +the empty glass, and sighing softly, shook it again. +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to see those old temples and fakirs and jugglers,” said the old +man. “What was that you started telling me the other day about a monkey’s paw +or something, Morris?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” said the soldier, hastily. “Leastways nothing worth hearing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monkey’s paw?” said Mrs. White, curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it’s just a bit of what you might call magic, perhaps,” said the +sergeant-major, offhandedly. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“To look at,” said the sergeant-major, fumbling in his pocket, “it’s just an +ordinary little paw, dried to a mummy.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“And what is there special about it?” inquired Mr. White as he took it from his +son, and having examined it, placed it upon the table. +</p> + +<p> +“It had a spell put on it by an old fakir,” 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.” +</p> + +<p> +His manner was so impressive that his hearers were conscious that their light +laughter jarred somewhat. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, why don’t you have three, sir?” said Herbert White, cleverly. +</p> + +<p> +The soldier regarded him in the way that middle age is wont to regard +presumptuous youth. “I have,” he said, quietly, and his blotchy face whitened. +</p> + +<p> +“And did you really have the three wishes granted?” asked Mrs. White. +</p> + +<p> +“I did,” said the sergeant-major, and his glass tapped against his strong +teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“And has anybody else wished?” persisted the old lady. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +His tones were so grave that a hush fell upon the group. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +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 enough +mischief already. Besides, people won’t buy. They think it’s a fairy tale; some +of them, and those who do think anything of it want to try it first and pay me +afterward.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you could have another three wishes,” said the old man, eyeing him keenly, +“would you have them?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” said the other. “I don’t know.” +</p> + +<p> +He took the paw, and dangling it between his forefinger and thumb, suddenly +threw it upon the fire. White, with a slight cry, stooped down and snatched it +off. +</p> + +<p> +“Better let it burn,” said the soldier, solemnly. +</p> + +<p> +“If you don’t want it, Morris,” said the other, “give it to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t,” said his friend, doggedly. “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.” +</p> + +<p> +The other shook his head and examined his new possession closely. “How do you +do it?” he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold it up in your right hand and wish aloud,” said the sergeant-major, “but I +warn you of the consequences.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sounds like the <i>Arabian Nights</i>,” 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?” +</p> + +<p> +Her husband drew the talisman from 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. +</p> + +<p> +“If you must wish,” he said, gruffly, “wish for something sensible.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. White dropped it back in his pocket, and placing chairs, motioned his +friend to the table. In the business of supper the talisman was partly +forgotten, and afterward the three sat listening in an enthralled fashion to a +second instalment of the soldier’s adventures in India. +</p> + +<p> +“If the tale about the monkey’s 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 sha’nt make much out of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you give him anything for it, father?” inquired Mrs. White, regarding her +husband closely. +</p> + +<p> +“A trifle,” said he, colouring slightly. “He didn’t want it, but I made him +take it. And he pressed me again to throw it away.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 henpecked.” +</p> + +<p> +He darted round the table, pursued by the maligned Mrs. White armed with an +antimacassar. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish for two hundred pounds,” said the old man distinctly. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“It moved,” he cried, with a glance of disgust at the object as it lay on the +floor. +</p> + +<p> +“As I wished, it twisted in my hand like a snake.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“It must have been your fancy, father,” said his wife, regarding him anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. “Never mind, though; there’s no harm done, but it gave me a +shock all the same.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 up +on top of the wardrobe watching you as you pocket your ill-gotten gains.” +</p> + +<p> +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’s +paw, and with a little shiver he wiped his hand on his coat and went up to bed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>II.</h2> + +<p> +In the brightness of the wintry sun next morning as it streamed over the +breakfast table he 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, shrivelled little paw was pitched on the sideboard with a carelessness +which betokened no great belief in its virtues. +</p> + +<p> +“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 you, father?” +</p> + +<p> +“Might drop on his head from the sky,” said the frivolous Herbert. +</p> + +<p> +“Morris said the things happened so naturally,” said his father, “that you +might if you so wished attribute it to coincidence.” +</p> + +<p> +“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, avaricious man, and we +shall have to disown you.” +</p> + +<p> +His mother laughed, and following 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 bill. +</p> + +<p> +“Herbert will have some more of his funny remarks, I expect, when he comes +home,” she said, as they sat at dinner. +</p> + +<p> +“I dare say,” said Mr. White, pouring himself out some beer; “but for all that, +the thing moved in my hand; that I’ll swear to.” +</p> + +<p> +“You thought it did,” said the old lady soothingly. +</p> + +<p> +“I say it did,” replied the other. “There was no thought about it; I had +just—What’s the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +His wife made no reply. She was watching the mysterious movements of a man +outside, who, peering 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 +flung it 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“I—was asked to call,” he said at last, and stooped and picked a piece of +cotton from his trousers. “I come from ‘Maw and Meggins.’” +</p> + +<p> +The old lady started. “Is anything the matter?” she asked, breathlessly. “Has +anything happened to Herbert? What is it? What is it?” +</p> + +<p> +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;” and +he eyed the other wistfully. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry—” began the visitor. +</p> + +<p> +“Is he hurt?” demanded the mother, wildly. +</p> + +<p> +The visitor bowed in assent. “Badly hurt,” he said, quietly, “but he is not in +any pain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank God!” said the old woman, clasping her hands. “Thank God for that! +Thank—” +</p> + +<p> +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. +She caught her breath, and turning to her slower-witted husband, laid her +trembling old hand upon his. There was a long silence. +</p> + +<p> +“He was caught in the machinery,” said the visitor at length in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Caught in the machinery,” repeated Mr. White, in a dazed fashion, “yes.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“He was the only one left to us,” he said, turning gently to the visitor. “It +is hard.” +</p> + +<p> +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 and +merely obeying orders.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Two hundred pounds,” was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>III.</h2> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 +the sound of subdued weeping came from the window. He raised himself in bed and +listened. +</p> + +<p> +“Come back,” he said, tenderly. “You will be cold.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is colder for my son,” said the old woman, and wept afresh. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>The paw!</i>” she cried wildly. “The monkey’s paw!” +</p> + +<p> +He started up in alarm. “Where? Where is it? What’s the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +She came stumbling across the room toward him. “I want it,” she said, quietly. +“You’ve not destroyed it?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s in the parlour, on the bracket,” he replied, marvelling. “Why?” +</p> + +<p> +She cried and laughed together, and bending over, kissed his cheek. +</p> + +<p> +“I only just thought of it,” she said, hysterically. “Why didn’t I think of it +before? Why didn’t <i>you</i> think of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Think of what?” he questioned. +</p> + +<p> +“The other two wishes,” she replied, rapidly. “We’ve only had one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was not that enough?” he demanded, fiercely. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she cried, triumphantly; “we’ll have one more. Go down and get it +quickly, and wish our boy alive again.” +</p> + +<p> +The man sat up in bed and flung the bedclothes from his quaking limbs. “Good +God, you are mad!” he cried, aghast. +</p> + +<p> +“Get it,” she panted; “get it quickly, and wish—Oh, my boy, my boy!” +</p> + +<p> +Her husband struck a match and lit the candle. “Get back to bed,” he said, +unsteadily. “You don’t know what you are saying.” +</p> + +<p> +“We had the first wish granted,” said the old woman, feverishly; “why not the +second?” +</p> + +<p> +“A coincidence,” stammered the old man. +</p> + +<p> +“Go and get it and wish,” cried his wife, quivering with excitement. +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Bring him back,” cried the old woman, and dragged him toward the door. “Do you +think I fear the child I have nursed?” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Wish!</i>” she cried, in a strong voice. +</p> + +<p> +“It is foolish and wicked,” he faltered. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Wish!</i>” repeated his wife. +</p> + +<p> +He raised his hand. “I wish my son alive again.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 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 +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 apathetically beside him. +</p> + +<p> +Neither spoke, but 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, he took +the box of matches, and striking one, went downstairs for a candle. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +The matches fell from his hand and spilled in the passage. 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. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/002.jpg" width="416" height="600" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<p> +“<i>What’s that?</i>” cried the old woman, starting up. +</p> + +<p> +“A rat,” said the old man in shaking tones—“a rat. It passed me on the stairs.” +</p> + +<p> +His wife sat up in bed listening. A loud knock resounded through the house. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s Herbert!” she screamed. “It’s Herbert!” +</p> + +<p> +She ran to the door, but her husband was before her, and catching her by the +arm, held her tightly. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you going to do?” he whispered hoarsely. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“For God’s sake don’t let it in,” cried the old man, trembling. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re afraid of your own son,” she cried, struggling. “Let me go. I’m coming, +Herbert; I’m coming.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“The bolt,” she cried, loudly. “Come down. I can’t reach it.” +</p> + +<p> +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 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 then to the gate beyond. The +street lamp flickering opposite shone on a quiet and deserted road. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12122 ***</div> +</body> + +</html> diff --git a/12122-h/images/002.jpg b/12122-h/images/002.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a0dd110 --- /dev/null +++ b/12122-h/images/002.jpg diff --git a/12122-h/images/cover.jpg b/12122-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9e92184 --- /dev/null +++ b/12122-h/images/cover.jpg |
