I had no positive apprehensions about the safety of the deposit placed in my hands, but it was one of the odd points in my character then (and I think it is still) to feel an unreasonably strong objection to charging myself with money responsibilities of any kind, even to suit the convenience of my dearest friends.

As soon as I was left alone, the very sight of the pocketbook behind the glass door of the book-case began to worry me, and instead of returning to my work, I puzzled my brains about finding a place to lock it up in, where it would not be exposed to the view of any chance passers-by who might stray into the Black Cottage.
This was not an easy matter to compass in a poor house like ours, where we had nothing valuable to put under lock and key.

After running over various hiding-places in my mind, I thought of my tea-caddy, a present from Mrs.Knifton, which I always kept out of harm's way in my own bedroom.

Most unluckily--as it afterward turned out--instead of taking the pocketbook to the tea-caddy, I went into my room first to take the tea-caddy to the pocketbook.

I only acted in this roundabout way from sheer thoughtlessness, and severely enough I was punished for it, as you will acknowledge yourself when you have read a page or two more of my story.
I was just getting the unlucky tea-caddy out of my cupboard, when I heard footsteps in the passage, and, running out immediately, saw two men walk into the kitchen--the room in which I had received Mr.and Mrs.
Knifton.