第12章 猴爪(2)
日子一天天过去，期待渐渐变成绝望，两位老人变得麻木不仁，有时会叫错对方的名字，有时则相对无言，几乎一言不发。因为他们现在没什么可说的，日子漫长得让他们难以忍受。
大约一星期后，一天夜里，老头突然醒来，伸出手，发现那边的床是空的。室内一片漆黑，窗边传来压抑的哭泣声，他从床上坐起来倾听着。
“回来吧，”他温和地说，“你会着凉的。”
“儿子会更冷的。”老太太说着，又抽噎起来。
她的哭泣声在他的耳边渐渐消失。床很暖和，睡意使他的眼皮非常沉重。他断断续续地打着盹，直到他妻子突然惊叫一声，发出疯狂的呼喊，他才醒了过来。
“猴爪！”她疯狂地喊道，“那只猴爪！”
他惊恐地抬起身：“哪里？它在哪里？怎么了？”
她跌跌撞撞地穿过房间向他走过来。“我想要它，”她平静地说，“你没毁掉它吧？”
“它在客厅里，在餐具柜上。”他答道，感到惊讶，“你要做什么？”
她悲喜交加，俯身在他的脸颊上吻了一下。
“我刚刚才想到它。”她大声说着，“为什么我以前没想到？为什么你没想到它？”
“想到什么？”他问。
“另外两个心愿。”她迅速地说着，“我们只提了一个。”
“那还不够吗？”他愤怒地问。
“不，”她得意地叫道，“我们还能再提一个。下去，快把它拿来，祈求咱们的儿子复活。”
老头坐在床上，四肢发抖地掀开被子。“仁慈的上帝，你疯了！”他惊骇地叫道。
她喘着气，大声说，“快拿过来，祈求上帝——哦，我的孩子，我的孩子！”
她的丈夫划了一根火柴点燃蜡烛。“回到床上去。”他有点儿犹豫地说，“你不知道你在说什么。”
“我们的第一个愿望实现了。”老太太兴奋地说，“为什么不提第二个？”
“那不过是巧合！”老头结结巴巴地说道。
“去拿来求呀。”他妻子叫道，激动得颤抖起来。
老头转身注视着她，声音颤抖了：“他已经死了十天了，而且他——我不想告诉你别的——我只能凭借他的衣服认出他。如果他的样子让你觉得很可怕，那该怎么办？”
“带他回来。”老太太叫道，拖他到门口。“你难道以为我会害怕自己养大的孩子？”
他在黑暗中走下楼来，摸索到客厅，再到壁炉。那神物果然在原处。他感到极度恐惧，想到那个未说出的、把他残缺不全的儿子带到面前的愿望，他就恨不得逃出这个屋子。想着想着，他找不到门口的方向了。他呼吸急促，眉上冒着冷汗，感到自己正在绕着桌子兜圈。于是，他摸索着墙走。直到发现自己在小过道里，手里拿着那个讨厌的东西。
他进卧室时，他妻子的脸色好像变了，苍白而又有所期待，似乎以一种异乎寻常的眼光望着那个东西，他有点儿怕她了。
“许愿呀！”她叫道，声音坚决。
“这真是又愚蠢又邪恶！”他颤抖着说道。
“许愿！”他妻子重复道。
他举起手：“我祈求我的儿子复活。”
那个神物掉到地上，他以一种充满恐惧的眼神注视着它，然后战栗着让自己的身体陷进一把椅子里。老太太却两眼通红，走到窗边拉开窗帘。
他坐在那儿，只觉得凉意逼人，时不时地，他也会瞥一眼盯着窗外的老太太的身影。蜡烛已经烧到尽头，火苗在陶瓷烛台的边缘跳动，把影子投在天花板和墙壁上，闪出一个较大的火花之后便熄灭了。本着一种对神物失灵的无可言状的宽慰感，他回到了床上。一两分钟后，老太太一言不发地上了床，躺在他身旁。
两个人都没有说话，他们静静地躺着，听着钟的滴答声。楼梯嘎吱一响，一只吱吱叫着的老鼠急匆匆地跑过墙。沉重的黑暗压得人难以喘息，躺了一会儿，他鼓起勇气，拿了一盒火柴，划着一根，下楼去点蜡烛。
走到楼梯脚，火柴熄了，他停下来又划一根。就在这时，从大门口传来一阵敲门声，轻微而又隐秘，几乎无法听见。
火柴滑落掉在过道里。他站着不敢动，屏息倾听。敲门声再度响起。他急速转身逃回卧室，关上身后的门。第三下敲门声响彻了整座房子。
“是什么？”老太太惊叫起来，猛然起身。
“一只老鼠。”老头用颤抖的声音说，“一只老鼠，在楼梯上从我的身边跑过。”
他的妻子坐在床上听着，又一下重重的敲门声响彻了整座房子。
“是赫伯特！”她尖叫道，“是赫伯特！”
她奔向门口，但她的丈夫已经抢在她的前面，抓住了她的手臂，紧紧抓着她。
“你想干什么？”他声音嘶哑地低声问。
“是我的孩子，是赫伯特！”她叫道，机械地反抗着，“我忘记坟墓离这里有两英里远了，你抓住我干什么？让我去，我一定要开门！”
“看在上帝的份儿上，别让他进来。”老头颤抖地叫道。
“你难道怕自己的儿子？”她叫着，挣扎着，“让我去。我来了，赫伯特，我来了！”
敲门声又响了一下，接着又是一下，老太太突然猛力挣脱，从卧室跑了出去。她丈夫追了几步，恳求地叫着她，她却飞快地冲下楼。他听到链锁嘎啦嘎啦的声音，她正缓慢地、不灵活地从插座中拔门闩。他听到老太太紧张的喘息声。
“门闩，”她嚷着，“你下来，我拉不开！”
但是，她的丈夫这时正手忙脚乱在地板上急急地摸索，寻找那只爪子。他一心想着，如果在外边那个东西进来之前找到它，就能得救了。又一连串猛烈的敲门声回荡在整座房子里，他听到链锁的刮擦声，他的妻子正把它从门上拆下来，他还听到门闩正嘎吱作响地慢慢往外移动。正在这时，他发现了猴爪，慌张地喊出他第三个，也是最后一个心愿。
敲门声戛然而止，回声还在屋子里回荡，他听到链锁拽掉了，门打开了，一股寒风冲上楼梯，他的妻子发出了一声长长的、失望而又痛苦的哭喊声。妻子的惨叫使他鼓足勇气跑下楼，来到大门外妻子的身旁，却发现四周空荡荡的。他见到的只有对面闪烁的街灯，以及灯光下那条寂静而又荒凉的大路。
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 tonight，"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 on 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 whisky 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 strange 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.
"Well， it's just a bit of what you might call magic， perhaps，"said the sergeant-major off-handedly.
His three listeners leaned forward eagerly. The visitor absentmindedly put his empty glass to his lips and then set it down again.His host filled it for him.
"To look at，" said the sergeant-major， fumbling in his pocket，"it's just an ordinary little paw， dried to a mummy."