It happened once upon a time that Mullah Nasruddin was travelling, and arrived at an inn while it was pouring rain. He entered the inn, soaked to the skin, and hoping to warm himself by the fire, but a number of others were crowded around the fireplace, and as they kept their backs turned firmly toward him, he could not get near.
The innkeeper, seeing hm standing dejectedly in the middle of the room, said, “What is wrong Mullah? You look sad.”
“I have lost my purse,” Nasruddin replied.
“Your purse? Was there anything in it?”
“Ten pieces of gold,” Nasruddin replied.
“Do you know where you lost it?” the innkeeper asked.
“Somewhere in the last mile before I reached the inn,” said Nasruddin. “I will search for it in the morning.”
“Not now?” said the innkeeper, surprised.
“”Who would be travelling the road in this rain at night?” the Mullah asked. “It will be safe until tomorrow morning.”
“If I were you,” said the innkeeper, “I would go now. If news of your loss gets around, you will never see your purse again.”
“Ah,” said Nasruddin, “but look – here is my purse after all. So let us warm ourselves by the fire.” For all the other people had already vanished into the darkness.