“Here’s another lot!” exclaimed the young man, holding up a second packet, while a few minutes later Miller himself discovered two fat packets, each note for one thousand francs. A fourth packet was discovered containing English twenty-pound notes and some German paper money.
Those were exciting moments. The men scrambled and snatched the packets from each other, tearing them open in their fierce eagerness to ascertain whether they contained notes. In the eyes of all three was that terrible lust for gold that impels men to great crimes, that fierce passion that renders men unconscious of their actions.
Time after time smaller packets were discovered, which they thrust into their pockets uncounted.
There was wealth there—wealth that would place all three of them beyond the necessity of those subterfuges by which they had previously lived—an ill-gotten hoard of bank-notes which I calculated to be of the value of many thousands of English pounds sterling.
And I was witness of their unexpected good fortune, for which the poor unfortunate man in charge had been foully done to death.
Miller suddenly discovered a large packet of thousand-franc notes in the back of the cupboard and pocketed them—a packet double the size of the first—whereupon a fierce quarrel instantly ensued.
Both the doctor and the young man declared that the money should be properly divided, while Miller flatly refused.
Hot words arose—quick accusations and recriminations, the men raising their voices all unconsciously, when of a sudden something entirely unexpected occurred.
The men were silent in an instant—silent in awe.
The clock, hitherto unnoticed by them, had stopped ticking.