He took out the drawer again and lifted the bills.  They were so smooth, so compact, so portable.  How little they made, after all.  He decided he would take them.  Yes, he would.  He would put them in his pocket.  Then he looked at that and saw they would not go there.  His hand satchel!  To be sure, his hand satchel.  They would go in that—­all of it would.  No one would think anything of it either.  He went into the little office and took it from the shelf in the corner.  Now he set it upon his desk and went out toward the safe.  For some reason he did not want to fill it out in the big room.  First he brought the bills and then the loose receipts of the day.  He would take it all.  He put the empty drawers back and pushed the iron door almost to, then stood beside it meditating.

The wavering of a mind under such circumstances is an almost inexplicable thing, and yet it is absolutely true.  Hurstwood could not bring himself to act definitely.  He wanted to think about it—­to ponder over it, to decide whether it were best.  He was drawn by such a keen desire for Carrie, driven by such a state of turmoil in his own affairs that he thought constantly it would be best, and yet he wavered.  He did not know what evil might result from it to him—­how soon he might come to grief.  The true ethics of the situation never once occurred to him, and never would have, under any circumstances.

After he had all the money in the handbag, a revulsion of feeling seized him.  He would not do it—­no!  Think of what a scandal it would make.  The police!  They would be after him.  He would have to fly, and where?  Oh, the terror of being a fugitive from justice!  He took out the two boxes and put all the money back.  In his excitement he forgot what he was doing, and put the sums in the wrong boxes.  As he pushed the door to, he thought he remembered doing it wrong and opened the door again.  There were the two boxes mixed.

He took them out and straightened the matter, but now the terror had gone.  Why be afraid?

While the money was in his hand the lock clicked.  It had sprung!  Did he do it?  He grabbed at the knob and pulled vigorously.  It had closed.  Heavens! he was in for it now, sure enough.

The moment he realized that the safe was locked for a surety, the sweat burst out upon his brow and he trembled violently.  He looked about him and decided instantly.  There was no delaying now.

“Supposing I do lay it on the top,” he said, “and go away, they’ll know who took it.  I’m the last to close up.  Besides, other things will happen.”

At once he became the man of action.

“I must get out of this,” he thought.

He hurried into his little room, took down his light overcoat and hat, locked his desk, and grabbed the satchel.  Then he turned out all but one light and opened the door.  He tried to put on his old assured air, but it was almost gone.  He was repenting rapidly.