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- Herausgeber: Swish
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
Step into the eerie world of W.W. Jacobs' The Monkey’s Paw, a timeless masterpiece of suspense and horror. First published in 1902, this short story explores the dark consequences of tampering with fate. A mysterious talisman grants three wishes to its holder, but each comes with unforeseen and chilling repercussions. This edition faithfully preserves the original text and offers a haunting tale that continues to captivate readers with its themes of greed, destiny, and the human condition. Perfect for fans of classic literature and supernatural stories.
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Table of Contents
Contents
Table of Contents
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Monkey's Paw
THE MONKEY’S PAW
By W. W. Jacobs
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
The Monkey’s Paw by W. W. Jacobs is a public domain text.
First published in 1902.
This version has been formatted for digital publication without altering the original text.
This eBook is independently formatted from the original public domain text of The Monkey’s Paw by W. W. Jacobs.
"This edition has been formatted to improve readability on digital devices, preserving the original text."
I confirm that this eBook, titled The Monkey’s Paw, contains only the original text traditionally attributed to W. W. Jacobs, which is in the public domain worldwide.
No additional copyrighted materials, such as images, annotations, forewords, or other supplementary content, have been included. The formatting and layout adjustments have been applied solely to enhance readability on digital devices without altering the original text.
THE MONKEY’S PAW
By W. W. Jacobs
CHAPTER I.
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.
“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.
“I’m listening,” said the latter, grimly surveying the board as he stretched out his hand. “Check.”
“I should hardly think that he’d come to-night,” said his father, with his hand poised over the board.
“Mate,” replied the son.
“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.”
“Never mind, dear,” said his wife, soothingly; “perhaps you’ll win the next one.”
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.
“There he is,” said Herbert White, as the gate banged to loudly and heavy footsteps came toward the door.
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.
“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 a small copper kettle on the fire.
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.
“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.”
“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 down the empty glass, and sighing softly, shook it again.
“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?”
“Nothing,” said the soldier, hastily. “Leastways nothing worth hearing.”
“Monkey’s paw?” said Mrs. White, curiously.
