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    The Beast Of Five Fingers
    The Beast Of Five Fingers
    The Beast Of Five Fingers
    Ebook36 pages25 minutes

    The Beast Of Five Fingers

    By W.f.harvey

    ()

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    About this ebook

    The Beast with Five Fingers is a short story written by W. F. Harvey and first published in The New Decameron (1919).
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherW.f.harvey
    Release dateJan 10, 2016
    ISBN9788892540774
    The Beast Of Five Fingers

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      Book preview

      The Beast Of Five Fingers - W.f.harvey

      The Beast With Five Fingers

      by

      W. F. Harvey

      To the best of our knowledge, the text of this

      work is in the Public Domain.

      HOWEVER, copyright law varies in other countries, and the work may still be under

      copyright in the country from which you are accessing this website. It is your

      responsibility to check the applicable copyright laws in your country before

      downloading this work.

      When I was a little boy I once went with my father to call on Adrian Borlsover. I played on the floor with a black spaniel while my father appealed for a subscription. Just before we left my father said, Mr. Borlsover, may my son here shake hands with you? It will be a thing to look back upon with pride when he grows to be a man.

      I came up to the bed on which the old man was lying and put my hand in his, awed by the still beauty of his face. He spoke to me kindly, and hoped that I should always try to please my father. Then he placed his right hand on my head and asked for a blessing to rest upon me. Amen! said my father, and I followed him out of the room, feeling as if I wanted to cry. But my father was in excellent spirits.

      That old gentleman, Jim, said he, is the most wonderful man in the whole town. For ten years he has been quite blind.

      But I saw his eyes, I said. They were ever so black and shiny; they weren’t shut up like Nora’s puppies. Can’t he see at all?

      And so I learnt for the first time that a man might have eyes that looked dark and beautiful and shining without being able to see.

      Just like Mrs. Tomlinson has big ears, I said, and can’t hear at all except when Mr. Tomlinson shouts.

      Jim, said my father, it’s not right to talk about a lady’s ears. Remember what Mr. Borlsover said about pleasing me and being a good boy.

      That was the only time I saw Adrian Borlsover. I soon forgot about him and the hand which he laid in blessing on my head. But for a week I prayed that those dark tender eyes might see.

      His spaniel may have puppies, I said in my prayers, and he will never be able to know how funny they look with their eyes all closed up. Please let old Mr. Borlsover see.

      Adrian Borlsover, as my father had said, was a wonderful man. He came of an eccentric family. Borlsovers’ sons, for some reason, always seemed to marry very ordinary women, which perhaps accounted for the fact that no Borlsover had been a genius, and only one Borlsover had been mad. But they were great champions of little causes, generous patrons of odd sciences, founders of querulous sects, trustworthy guides to the bypath

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