W.W.雅各布斯/W.W.Jacobs
W.W.雅各布斯（W.W.Jacobs，1863—1943），英国小说家，生于伦敦，毕业于伯克拜克大学。他是一个多产的小说家，写过大量的讽刺小说和恐怖小说。其中最著名的恐怖小说是《猴爪》（1901），曾被多次改编为电影和剧本，斯蒂芬·金的小说《宠物公墓》深受其影响。
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 fre.
“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.
“Im listening，”said the latter, grimly surveying the board as he stretched out his hand.“Check.”
“I should hardly think that hed come tonight，”said his father, with his hand poised over the board.
“Mate，”replied the son.
“Thats 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 youll 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.