Hood's evil conscience led him to regard with apprehension every unusual event.

Dagworthy's unwonted earliness was still troubling his mind, when a messenger summoned him to the private room.

There was nothing extraordinary in this, but Hood, as he crossed the passage, shook with fear; before knocking and pushing open the door, he dashed drops from his forehead with his hand.

Dagworthy was alone, sitting at the desk.
'Shut the door,' he said, without turning his eyes from a letter he was reading.
The clerk obeyed, and stood for a full minute before anything more was addressed to him.

He knew that the worst had come.
Dagworthy faced half round.
'One day early last week,' he began, averting his eyes after a single glance, 'I was looking over one of these ledgers'-- he pointed to the shelf--'and left an envelope to mark a place.