“If only he hadn’t wandered off into the lanes on that fair day in June! He might even have been drinking beer instead of dying hard.”
The owl perched upon the cottage chimney hooted again. The ice upon Ford’s pond cracked—the midnight frost was abroad.
Mr. Tapper spoke his last words.
“Our Lily, she weren’t murdered by thik young preacher,” said Mr. Tapper.
“Who did kill she?” the old women whispered excitedly.
“’Twas I,” said Mr. Tapper, “because young Wakely never give I thik beer ’e’d promised. I did blame she for it.”
The owl hooted, the old women looked at one another—and Mr. Tapper’s jaw slowly dropped.
THE MONKEY’S PAW
By W. W. JACOBS
From The Lady of the Barge, by W. W. Jacobs. Copyright, 1902, by Dodd, Mead and Company.