But as soon as his customer had quitted the shop, Michael turned eagerly to the envelope. What was his amazement when he drew from it five Bank of England notes for ten pounds each! He could hardly believe his eyes. He looked at them carefully, holding each note up to the light. There could be no doubt that they were genuine. Fifty pounds! What a treasure to light upon!
But how did the notes come to be within the old book? Who had put them there? Had they belonged to Professor Lavers?
In the first surprise of his discovery, Michael had not a doubt as to the ownership of the money. His first impulse was to return them to Mrs. Lavers forthwith. She certainly had the first right to anything found within the books that he had purchased of her. The thing to be done was clear enough to Michael in the earliest moments which followed his great surprise.
But later, as he looked at the notes and shook them in his hand, and thought of all that might be done with them, various doubts and possibilities presented themselves to his mind. Who could say that the professor had put the notes where he found them? The notes were not fresh and crisp; they were soiled, and one was a little torn. They might have lain for years within the thick volume. They might have been there when Professor Lavers bought the encyclopædia. Michael knew that he bought many of his books second-hand. Besides, if he had left the notes there, they would have been missed, and questions asked and search made. Evidently no one had missed the money.
Why, then, Michael asked himself, need he proclaim what he had found? If a man found a sum of money, he had a right to keep it till some one claimed it, and could prove that it was his. If Mrs. Lavers came and told him that she had lost this money, he would restore it to her at once. But till then he had a perfect right to retain it. At any rate, he would do nothing hastily. He would wait and see what happened. So Michael locked the notes within his desk and tried to go on with his work as usual. But this was not easy. He could not forget that the notes were there, though he tried hard to do so. Nor, in spite of the many excellent arguments by which he strove to persuade himself that he was acting rightly, could he get the better of an uneasy sense that he was swerving from the path of rectitude.
A week passed by, and the roll of notes remained within Michael's desk. He was still trying to persuade himself that he was justified in retaining them, and he still found that the voice of conscience would not endorse his arguments. There were moments when that voice would say to him that his action in keeping money that was not his was little better than stealing.
One evening Michael Betts, goaded by these irritating suggestions, started to walk up Gower Street, with the half-formed intention of calling at Mrs. Lavers' house and asking to see her, that he might tell her what he had found in the old encyclopædia. The struggle within him was still so strong, the love of gain contending so fiercely with the love of integrity, that it is probable he would in any case have turned back when he reached Mrs. Lavers' house. But when he came to the door he found the steps littered with straw and paper; there was no light in the windows, and when he lifted the knocker, its fall resounded hollowly through the now empty house. Mrs. Lavers and her children had gone away, and the house was no longer a home.
Michael's feeling was one of relief.
"Now there's an end to the matter," he said to himself. "She's gone away, I don't know where, and it's not in my power to tell her. It's clear she knows nothing about the money, and she does not want it. I have therefore a perfect right to keep it."
And hugging this thought to his heart, and congratulating himself on the lucky thing he had done when he purchased the professor's library, Michael turned homewards.