The million pound banknote

There was no signature on the letter, no address, and no date. Well, here was a strange situation to be in! You know what had gone on before all this, but I did not. It was just a deep, dark puzzle to me. I hadn't the least idea what was going on. I did not know whether harm was meant to me or kindness. I went into a park, and sat down to try to think it out. I needed to work out the best thing to do.

At the end of an hour this is what I had decided. Maybe those men want something good for me, maybe they do not. There is no way to decide which is correct - so let it go. They are up to some game, or scheme, or experiment, of some kind. There is no way to know what it is - let it go. There's a bet on me. But I have no way to find out what the bet is - let it go. That finishes with the things I do not know about. All the rest is solid, and may be put into place with certainty. I can ask the Bank of England to put this banknote into the account of the man it belongs to. They'll do it, for they know him, although I don't. But they will ask me how I came to have the banknote with me. If I tell the truth, they'll put me in the asylum, and a lie will get me into jail.

The same thing will happen if I try to put the money in a bank somewhere or to borrow money on it. I have got to carry this great burden around until those men come back, whether I want to or not. It is useless to me, as useless as a handful of ashes. Yet I must take care of it, and watch over it, while I beg for my living. I couldn't give it away if I tried. No honest man would accept it or any robber want anything to do with it.