hook. Then they went in to breakfast.






THE MONKEY'S PAW

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.