f fate's
providing. If only he could bring himself to the lie direct and
shameless.

After all, a lie that would injure no mortal. As far as Dagworthy was
concerned, the money had long since become the property of nobody;
Dagworthy did not even know that this sum existed; if ever missed, it
must have been put out of mind long ago. And very possibly it had never
belonged to Dagworthy; some cashier or other clerk might just as well
have lost it. Hood played with these speculations. He did not put to
himself the plain alternative: Shall I keep the money, or shall I give
it up? He merely let a series of reflections pass over his mind, as he
lay back on the cushioned seat, experiencing an agreeable drowsiness. At
the moment of finding the note, he would have handed it over to his
employer without a thought; it would perhaps not even have occurred to
him to regret that it was not his own. But during the last three hours a
singular chain of circumstances had led to this result: it was just as
possible as not that Hood would keep the coins in his pocket and say
nothing about them.

It was time to go to the train. Almost with the first moving of the
carriages he fell into a doze. A sense of mental uneasiness roused him
now and then, but only for a few moments together; he slumbered on till
Dunfield was reached.

At the entrance to the mill he was in fierce conflict with himself. As
is usually the case in like circumstances, the sleepy journey had
resulted in bodily uneasiness; he had a slight headache, was thirsty,
felt indisposed to return to work. When he had all but crossed the
threshold, he turned sharply back, and entered a little public-house a
few yards away; an extraordinary thing for him to do, but he felt that a
small glass of spirits would help him to quieter nerves, or at all
events would sustain his unusual exhilaration till the interview with
Dagworthy was over. At the very door of the office he had not decided
whether it should be silence or restitution.

'That you, Hood?' Dagworthy asked, looking up from a letter he was
writing. 'Been rather a long time, haven't you?'

The tone was unusually indulgent. Hood felt an accession of confidence;
he explained naturally the cause of his delay.

'All right,' was the reply, as Dagworthy took the note which his
correspondent had sent.

Hood was in his own room, and--the money was still in his pocket....

He did not set out to walk home with his usual cheerfulness