Justice. Galsworthy John

to – Cokeson by Mr. Walter at one o'clock; we know that because Mr. Cokeson's lunch had just arrived.

      COKESON. I couldn't leave it.

      JAMES. Exactly; he therefore gave the cheque to Davis. It was cashed by you at 1.15. We know that because the cashier recollects it for the last cheque he handled before his lunch.

      FALDER. Yes, sir, Davis gave it to me because some friends were giving him a farewell luncheon.

      JAMES. [Puzzled] You accuse Davis, then?

      FALDER. I don't know, sir – it's very funny.

      WALTER, who has come close to his father, says something to him in a low voice.

      JAMES. Davis was not here again after that Saturday, was he?

      COKESON. [Anxious to be of assistance to the young man, and seeing faint signs of their all being jolly once more] No, he sailed on the Monday.

      JAMES. Was he, Falder?

      FALDER. [Very faintly] No, sir.

      JAMES. Very well, then, how do you account for the fact that this nought was added to the nine in the counterfoil on or after Tuesday?

      COKESON. [Surprised] How's that?

      FALDER gives a sort of lurch; he tries to pull himself together, but he has gone all to pieces.

      JAMES. [Very grimly] Out, I'm afraid, Cokeson. The cheque-book remained in Mr. Walter's pocket till he came back from Trenton on Tuesday morning. In the face of this, Falder, do you still deny that you altered both cheque and counterfoil?

      FALDER. No, sir – no, Mr. How. I did it, sir; I did it.

      COKESON. [Succumbing to his feelings] Dear, dear! what a thing to do!

      FALDER. I wanted the money so badly, sir. I didn't know what I was doing.

      COKESON. However such a thing could have come into your head!

      FALDER. [Grasping at the words] I can't think, sir, really! It was just a minute of madness.

      JAMES. A long minute, Falder. [Tapping the counterfoil] Four days at least.

      FALDER. Sir, I swear I didn't know what I'd done till afterwards, and then I hadn't the pluck. Oh! Sir, look over it! I'll pay the money back – I will, I promise.

      JAMES. Go into your room.

      FALDER, with a swift imploring look, goes back into his room. There is silence.

      JAMES. About as bad a case as there could be.

      COKESON. To break the law like that-in here!

      WALTER. What's to be done?

      JAMES. Nothing for it. Prosecute.

      WALTER. It's his first offence.

      JAMES. [Shaking his head] I've grave doubts of that. Too neat a piece of swindling altogether.

      COKESON. I shouldn't be surprised if he was tempted.

      JAMES. Life's one long temptation, Cokeson.

      COKESON. Ye-es, but I'm speaking of the flesh and the devil, Mr. James. There was a woman come to see him this morning.

      WALTER. The woman we passed as we came in just now. Is it his wife?

      COKESON. No, no relation. [Restraining what in jollier circumstances would have been a wink] A married person, though.

      WALTER. How do you know?

      COKESON. Brought her children. [Scandalised] There they were outside the office.

      JAMES. A real bad egg.

      WALTER. I should like to give him a chance.

      JAMES. I can't forgive him for the sneaky way he went to work – counting on our suspecting young Davis if the matter came to light. It was the merest accident the cheque-book stayed in your pocket.

      WALTER. It must have been the temptation of a moment. He hadn't time.

      JAMES. A man doesn't succumb like that in a moment, if he's a clean mind and habits. He's rotten; got the eyes of a man who can't keep his hands off when there's money about.

      WALTER. [Dryly] We hadn't noticed that before.

      JAMES. [Brushing the remark aside] I've seen lots of those fellows in my time. No doing anything with them except to keep 'em out of harm's way. They've got a blind spat.

      WALTER. It's penal servitude.

      COKESON. They're nahsty places-prisons.

      JAMES. [Hesitating] I don't see how it's possible to spare him. Out of the question to keep him in this office – honesty's the 'sine qua non'.

      COKESON. [Hypnotised] Of course it is.

      JAMES. Equally out of the question to send him out amongst people who've no knowledge of his character. One must think of society.

      WALTER. But to brand him like this?

      JAMES. If it had been a straightforward case I'd give him another chance. It's far from that. He has dissolute habits.

      COKESON. I didn't say that – extenuating circumstances.

      JAMES. Same thing. He's gone to work in the most cold-blooded way to defraud his employers, and cast the blame on an innocent man. If that's not a case for the law to take its course, I don't know what is.

      WALTER. For the sake of his future, though.

      JAMES. [Sarcastically] According to you, no one would ever prosecute.

      WALTER. [Nettled] I hate the idea of it.

      COKESON. That's rather 'ex parte', Mr. Walter! We must have protection.

      JAMES. This is degenerating into talk.

      He moves towards the partners' room.

      WALTER. Put yourself in his place, father.

      JAMES. You ask too much of me.

      WALTER. We can't possibly tell the pressure there was on him.

      JAMES. You may depend on it, my boy, if a man is going to do this sort of thing he'll do it, pressure or no pressure; if he isn't nothing'll make him.

      WALTER. He'll never do it again.

      COKESON. [Fatuously] S'pose I were to have a talk with him. We don't want to be hard on the young man.

      JAMES. That'll do, Cokeson. I've made up my mind. [He passes into the partners' room.]

      COKESON. [After a doubtful moment] We must excuse your father. I don't want to go against your father; if he thinks it right.

      WALTER. Confound it, Cokeson! why don't you back me up? You know you feel —

      COKESON. [On his dignity] I really can't say what I feel.

      WALTER. We shall regret it.

      COKESON. He must have known what he was doing.

      WALTER. [Bitterly] "The quality of mercy is not strained."

      COKESON. [Looking at him askance] Come, come, Mr. Walter. We must try and see it sensible.

      SWEEDLE. [Entering with a tray] Your lunch, sir.

      COKESON. Put it down!

      While SWEEDLE is putting it down on COKESON's table, the detective, WISTER, enters the outer office, and, finding no one there, comes to the inner doorway. He is a square, medium-sized man, clean-shaved, in a serviceable blue serge suit and strong boots.

      COKESON. [Hoarsely] Here! Here! What are we doing?

      WISTER. [To WALTER] From Scotland Yard, sir. Detective-Sergeant Blister.

      WALTER. [Askance] Very well! I'll speak to my father.

      He goes into the partners' room. JAMES enters.

      JAMES. Morning! [In answer to an appealing gesture from COKESON] I'm sorry; I'd stop short of this if I felt I could. Open that door. [SWEEDLE, wondering and scared, opens it] Come here, Mr. Falder.

      As