She unlocked the safe, and transferred part of its contents, money, stamps, and so forth, to their proper drawers. The money gave her a sickish feeling; so much of it—the price of her salvation over and over again—her freedom in a fraction of it. . . . Violently she shut the drawer and turned to the desk.
A child came in with a letter and a penny, and, a little later, a woman with a parcel. Then there was a longish blank till an elderly man entered. He made a brief remark on the weather and proceeded to fill up a money order request-form. Presently he pushed it across the counter along with the money, £27, in three five-pound and twelve one-pound notes, also an eightpence to pay the charge. Laying the money on the desk, she collected her wits and carefully wrote out the order. Her sleeve brushed the notes separate without her noticing.
The man wanted to know when a letter would be delivered in a certain outlying place in Ireland, and she took the “Post-office guide” to the counter and found him the information contained therein. He went out, leaving the door open. The brisk current of morning air was welcome. Before she could turn from the counter a girl came in with a few shillings for her savings account. . . .
When the girl had gone Kitty put her hands to her head, which was now throbbing painfully. Some little time elapsed before she returned to the desk. Observing the notes, she gathered them up and placed them in the proper drawer for money order and postal order transactions. She locked the drawer with a key on the bunch hanging from her belt. Often this drawer contained fairly large sums. Once more she attacked her clerical work.
Somehow the morning passed. At noon she was relieved for half an hour, by her uncle. He peered about, but made no remark, and without even glancing at him she passed through the short passage leading to the shop and thence to the cottage. Her dinner was waiting on the table. Miss Corrie, who had put it there, had gone back to the shop; she dined with her brother later.
Kitty could not eat. After a while she went up to her room and lay down for ten minutes. The pity was that she did not spend the whole of her half-hour upstairs.
The first thing Corrie did on being left to himself, was to snatch from the floor, under the shadow of the desk, a five-pound note. Holding it stretched between his hands, he stood transfixed, while the clock ticked nearly a hundred seconds. Then his hands began to shake and sweat appeared on his face. . . . Two minutes later he left the office to take care of itself, going out by the public way. Keeping close to the wall he passed round behind the office and shop and into the yard at the back of the house. The place was not overlooked by neighbours, but he glanced keenly about him before he turned his gaze upwards. Above the ivy an attic window was wide open.
He tiptoed to an out-house; he tiptoed back with a ladder. He placed the ladder in position and climbed a few bars, halted, and made a show of doing something to the ivy. Ascending further, he repeated the performance. At last he was at the window. For a few seconds he remained with his body bent and stretched into the room, then he withdrew, descended the ladder, replaced it in the out-house, and returned to the office.
At 12.30 his niece appeared. He moved towards the shop, seemed to change his mind, and came back. He cleared his throat, and said—
“I’ll check the cash.”