A Night in a HotelInside the kitchen, I drank one glass of water after another, before ripping off my sweat-drenched clothes and taking a long cool shower. Back in the kitchen, I ripped open a can of tuna and slopped it, oil and all, onto a hunk of stale bread. A mash with a fork and I sank my teeth into the salty fishy bread and chewed rapidly. I could feel panic setting in and I knew the best thing I could do was call the police and hand in the rucksack and tell all. I would look like an i***t or an opportunist and possibly an outright liar, but at least I would have done the right thing. The money was not mine, and I would feel morally bankrupt keeping cash meant for a charity. If anything, I was the hero of the piece, for if I hadn't stumbled on that rucksack, the world would be impove
