ey? Who would know where his money was
hidden? Who would know that anybody had come to take it away?
He went no further into the subtleties of evidence: the pressing
question“Where is the money?” now took such entire possession
of him as to make him quite forget that the weaver’s death was not
a certainty. A dull mindonce arriving at an inference that flatters
a desireis rarely able to retain the impression that the notion
from which the inference started was purely problematic. And
Dunstan’s mind was as dull as the mind of a possible felon usually
is. There were only three hiding-places where he had ever heard
of cottagers’ hoards being found: the thatchthe bedand a hole in
the floor. Marner’s cottage had no thatch; and Dunstan’s first act
after a train of thought made rapid by the stimulus of cupidity
was to go up to the bed; but while he did sohis eyes travelled
eagerly over the floorwhere the bricksdistinct in the firelight
were discernible under the sprinkling of sand. But not
everywhere; for there was one spotand one onlywhich was quite
covered with sandand sand showing the marks of fingerswhich
had apparently been careful to spread it over a given space.
It was near the treadles of the loom. In
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