Complete Plays of John Galsworthy Part 104

WALTER. I know; but the intention was obviously to exclude that bit of common ground.

c.o.kESON. We needn't worry about that. We're the right side of the law.

WALTER. I don't like it,

c.o.kESON. [With an indulgent smile] We shan't want to set ourselves up against the law. Your father wouldn't waste his time doing that.

As he speaks JAMES How comes in from the partners' room. He is a shortish man, with white side-whiskers, plentiful grey hair, shrewd eyes, and gold pince-nez.

JAMES. Morning, Walter.

WALTER. How are you, father?

c.o.kESON. [Looking down his nose at the papers in his hand as though deprecating their size] I'll just take Boulter's lease in to young Falder to draft the instructions. [He goes out into FALDER'S room.]

WALTER. About that right-of-way case?

JAMES. Oh, well, we must go forward there. I thought you told me yesterday the firm's balance was over four hundred.

WALTER. So it is.

JAMES. [Holding out the pa.s.s-book to his son] Three--five--one, no recent cheques. Just get me out the cheque-book.

WALTER goes to a cupboard, unlocks a drawer and produces a cheque-book.

JAMES. Tick the pounds in the counterfoils. Five, fifty-four, seven, five, twenty-eight, twenty, ninety, eleven, fifty-two, seventy-one. Tally?

WALTER. [Nodding] Can't understand. Made sure it was over four hundred.

JAMES. Give me the cheque-book. [He takes the check-book and cons the counterfoils] What's this ninety?

WALTER. Who drew it?

JAMES. You.

WALTER. [Taking the cheque-book] July 7th? That's the day I went down to look over the Trenton Estate--last Friday week; I came back on the Tuesday, you remember. But look here, father, it was nine I drew a cheque for. Five guineas to Smithers and my expenses. It just covered all but half a crown.

JAMES. [Gravely] Let's look at that ninety cheque. [He sorts the cheque out from the bundle in the pocket of the pa.s.s-book] Seems all right. There's no nine here. This is bad. Who cashed that nine-pound cheque?

WALTER. [Puzzled and pained] Let's see! I was finishing Mrs.

Reddy's will--only just had time; yes--I gave it to c.o.keson.

JAMES. Look at that 't' 'y': that yours?

WALTER. [After consideration] My y's curl back a little; this doesn't.

JAMES. [As c.o.kESON re-enters from FALDER'S room] We must ask him.

Just come here and carry your mind back a bit, c.o.keson. D'you remember cashing a cheque for Mr. Walter last Friday week--the day he went to Trenton?

c.o.kESON. Ye-es. Nine pounds.

JAMES. Look at this. [Handing him the cheque.]

c.o.kESON. No! Nine pounds. My lunch was just coming in; and of course I like it hot; I gave the cheque to Davis to run round to the bank. He brought it back, all gold--you remember, Mr. Walter, you wanted some silver to pay your cab. [With a certain contemptuous compa.s.sion] Here, let me see. You've got the wrong cheque.

He takes cheque-book and pa.s.s-book from WALTER.

WALTER. Afraid not.

c.o.kESON. [Having seen for himself] It's funny.

JAMES. You gave it to Davis, and Davis sailed for Australia on Monday. Looks black, c.o.keson.

c.o.kESON. [Puzzled and upset] why this'd be a felony! No, no!

there's some mistake.

JAMES. I hope so.

c.o.kESON. There's never been anything of that sort in the office the twenty-nine years I've been here.

JAMES. [Looking at cheque and counterfoil] This is a very clever bit of work; a warning to you not to leave s.p.a.ce after your figures, Walter.

WALTER. [Vexed] Yes, I know--I was in such a tearing hurry that afternoon.

c.o.kESON. [Suddenly] This has upset me.

JAMES. The counterfoil altered too--very deliberate piece of swindling. What was Davis's ship?

WALTER. 'City of Rangoon'.

JAMES. We ought to wire and have him arrested at Naples; he can't be there yet.

c.o.kESON. His poor young wife. I liked the young man. Dear, oh dear! In this office!

WALTER. Shall I go to the bank and ask the cashier?

JAMES. [Grimly] Bring him round here. And ring up Scotland Yard.

WALTER. Really?

He goes out through the outer office. JAMES paces the room. He stops and looks at c.o.kESON, who is disconsolately rubbing the knees of his trousers.

JAMES. Well, c.o.keson! There's something in character, isn't there?

c.o.kESON. [Looking at him over his spectacles] I don't quite take you, sir.

JAMES. Your story, would sound d----d thin to any one who didn't know you.