There was no signature, no address, and no date. Well, here was a tangle 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 the game was. 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 consider what I had best do.

At the end of an hour my reasoning had resulted in this conclusion. 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've got a game, or a scheme, or an experiment, of some kind on hand; no way to know what it is - let it go. There's a bet on me; no way to find out what the bet is - let it go. That finishes with the things I do not know about; the remainder of the matter is tangible, solid, and may be classed and labeled 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 it with me. If I tell the truth, they'll put me in the asylum, naturally, 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 immense 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. Neither honest citizen nor highwayman would accept it or meddle with it for anything.