Outside, the night was cold and wet. But in the small room of a house the curtains [′°á±] were closed and the fire burned brightly. Father and son were playing chess. The father thought chess required taking great chances and put his king into such unnecessary [not needed] danger that even the white-haired old lady stitching [·ì] peacefully by the fire made comments [said something].

Mr. White saw that he had made a bad mistake. "Listen to the wind", he said to prevent [stop] his son from seeing it.

"I'm listening," said the the son seriously looking at the board [??°?]. He moved a piece and said "Check mate."

"I don't think he will come tonight, " said his father, with his hand over the board.

"Why do we have to live so far," shouted Mr. White suddenly; "Of all the bad, muddy [?à?￠μ?], far away places to live in, this is the worst. The path's all muddy, and the road's a river. I don't know what people are thinking about. Because only two houses in the road are rented, they think it doesn't matter."

"Never mind, dear," said his wife "perhaps you'll win the next one."

Mr. White looked up suddenly, just in time to catch a knowing look between mother and son. The words stopped on his lips, and he hid a guilty [·?×?μ?] smile in his thin, grey beard.

"There he is," said Herbert White as the gate banged [made a loud noise] loudly and heavy footsteps came toward the door.

The old man rose quickly and opened the door. "Officer Morris, " he said, introducing the visitor.

The officer shook hands, took the seat by the fire and watched with satisfaction [?ú×?] as his host got whiskey and glasses. Mr. White also put a small kettle [o?] on the fire.

After the third glass of whisky, his eyes got brighter and he began to talk. The little family listened with interest as the visitor from distant parts told them of wild scenes and dangerous places, of wars and famines [?￠??] and strange peoples.

"Twenty-one years of it," said Mr. White, nodding at his wife and son. "When he went away he was a boy in the shop. Now look at him."

"He doesn't seem to have been harmed." said Mrs. White politely.

"I'd like to go to India myself," said the old man, just to look around a little."

"Better where you are," said the officer, shaking his head. He put down the empty glass and sighing softly, shook it again.

"I should like to see those old temples, fakirs [monks] and jugglers [?￡°??·μ?è?]," said the old man. "you were about to say something about a monkey's paw [×|×ó], Morris. What was it?"

"Nothing." said the soldier quickly. "Any way, nothing worth hearing."

"Monkey's paw?" said Mrs. White curiously.

"Well, it's just a bit of magic, perhaps." said the officer quietly.

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 again.

"To look at," said the officer, putting his hand in his pocket, "it's just an ordinary little paw that has been dried."

He took something out of his pocket and showed it. Mrs. White looked at it and shivered [2ü??], but her son took it and examined it curiously.

"And what is special about it?" asked Mr. White as he took it from his son. He examined it and placed it on the table.

"It had a spell [??ó?] put on it by an old Fakir," said the officer, "a very holy [é?μ?] man. He wanted to show that fate [?ü??] ruled people's lives, and that those who interefered [′òè?] with it got sorrow [sadness]. He put a spell on it so that three separate men could each have three wishes from it."

The three of them laughed softly but it sounded very strange.

"Well, why didn't you make the three wishes, sir?" asked Herbert White cleverly.

The soldier looked at him very quietly. "I have," he said, and his red face turned white.

"And did you really get the three wishes?" asked Mrs. White.

"I did," said the officer, and his glass hit his strong teeth.

"And has anybody else wished?" asked 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 speech was so serious that the group became very quiet.

"If you've had your three wishes it's no good to you now, Morris," said the old man at last. "Why do you keep it?"

The soldier shook his head. "I like it, I think," he said slowly." I was thinking of selling it, but I don't think I will. It has caused me enough trouble already. Besides, people won't buy. Some of them think it's a fairy tale [imaginary story], others want to try it first and pay me afterwards."

"If you could have another three wishes," said the old man, looking at him with great interest," would you have them?"

"I don't know," said the other. "I don't know."

He took the paw, and holding it between his finger and thumb, suddenly threw it into the fire. White, with a cry, bent down and removed it from the fire.

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

"If you don't want it Morris," said the other, "give it to me."

"I won't." said his friend. "I threw it into the fire. If you keep it, don't blame me for what happens. Throw it in the fire like a sensible [clever] man."

The other shook his head and examined the paw carefully. "How do make a wish?" he asked.

"Hold it up in your right hand, and wish aloud," said the officer, "But I warn you, you won't like the results."

"Sounds like the 'Arabian Nights' [ò??§á?ò?ò1].", said Mrs. White, as she rose and began to arrange [°2??] dinner. "Don't you think you could wish for four pairs of hands for me."

Her husband removed the paw from his pocket and all three started laughing. But the officer, with a look of alarm [sudden fear] on his face, caught him by the arm.

"If you must wish," he said in a rough voice, "Wish for something sensible"

Mr. White dropped it back in his pocket, and arranging chairs, asked his friend to come to the table. At dinner the paw was forgotten and afterwards the three sat listening with great interest to the second part of the soldier's adventures in India.

Much later, the officer left the house to catch the last train. Mrs. Herber said "We won't get much out of the monkey's paw."

"Did you give him anything for it?" asked Mrs. White, looking at her husband closely [carefully].

"Very little," said he, colouring slightly, "He didn't want it, but I made him take it. And he asked me again to throw it away."

"Likely," said Herbert, with pretended [acting] horror. "Why, we're going to be rich, and famous, and happy. Wish to be an emperor [king], father, to begin with; then you can't be henpecked [??à???μ?]."

He ran around the table, chased by the angry Mrs White armed with a pan.

Mr. White took the paw from his pocket and looked at 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."

"If you had a little more money, you'd be quite happy, wouldn't you!" said Herbert, with his hand on his shoulder. "Well, wish for two hundred pounds, then. That should be nice."

His father, smiling shamefacedly, held up the paw. His son, with a serious face, but winking [?￡??] at his mother, sat down at the piano and played a few notes [ò?·?].

"I wish for two hundred pounds," said the old man loudly.

A big noise came from the piano and the old man cried with a shiver. His wife and son ran toward him.

"It moved," he cried, with a look of hatred at the thing as it lay on the floor. "When I wished, it twisted [·-×a] 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, "and I bet I never shall."

"It must have been your imagination," said his wife, looking at him anxiously.

He shook his head. "Never mind, though. There's no harm done, but it gave me a bad shock [?e?a]."

They sat down by the fire again while the two men finished smoking. Outside, the wind was stronger than ever and the old man was startled [surprised] by the sound of a door banging upstairs. An unusual and depressing [sad] silence settled on all three, which lasted until the old couple [two people] rose to go to bed.

"I think you'll find the cash [money] tied up in a big bag in the middle of your bed," said Herbert, as he wished them goodnight, " and something horrible sitting on top of your cupboard watching you as you take the money."

He sat alone in the darkness, staring at the dying fire, and saw faces in it. The last was so horrible and so monkey-like that he stared at it in wonder. It got so clear that, with a little frightened laugh, he felt [?t?÷] for a glass of water on the table to throw over it. But his hand touched the monkey's paw and with a little shiver he wiped his hand on his coat and went up to bed.