Sam Joven was given a simple task that should've taken a few minutes. When delayed by unaccountable circumstances and taking a full day, could he really tell his the truth or should he tell a lie?
On a bright windy day, Sam Joven entered Goldbin & Company Counting House. Placing his bowler hat on its usual peg next to his desk, he sat down to the usual pile of papers. One pile, two piles, three piles... this was daunting. He picked up his feathered pen and was about to dunk it in the inkwell.
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"Sam!" came a gruff voice from the other end of the counting-house. Sam winced a little, the gruff voice was only too familiar to himself and everyone else in the counting-house. Sam tried to calm his fears as he slowly put down his pen and walked as steadily as he could to Mr Goldbin's office. Mr Goldbin was President of Goldbin & Company, a prodigiously fat Bellybob who was certainly more belly than bob. He looked at Sam with his usual cool calculating expression, like a lion looks at his prey. "Come in," Mr. Goldbin said straightforwardly, "Please close the door." "Y-you wanted to see me?" Sam asked, trying not to stutter with fright. "Yes," Mr. Goldbin said, then pushing a thick envelope towards Sam, "I would like you to deliver this to the bank as soon as you can." "Y-yes, yes sir!" Sam said, as a sweeping wave of relief washed over him. He jumped at the letter and darted out of the room. "Right away, sir!"
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Grabbing his hat from the peg he hurried outside. Out in the cool, fresh, morning air he breathed a great sigh of relief and began walking briskly towards the bank, even daring to whistle a little tune. He did not think to look back, why would he? But if he had looked back he would have seen Mr Goldbin watching him from the office window, his keen eyes measuring Sam's step, an evil oily grin playing at the corners of his evil oily lips.
