Justice | Page 6

the pass-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 Cokeson.
JAMES. Look at that 't' 'y': that yours?
WALTER. [After consideration] My y's curl back a little; this doesn't.
JAMES. [As COKESON re-enters from FALDER'S room] We must ask him. Just come here and carry your mind back a bit, Cokeson. D'you remember cashing a cheque for Mr. Walter last Friday week--the day he went to Trenton?
COKESON. Ye-es. Nine pounds.
JAMES. Look at this. [Handing him the cheque.]
COKESON. 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 compassion] Here, let me see. You've got the wrong cheque.
He takes cheque-book and pass-book from WALTER.
WALTER. Afraid not.
COKESON. [Having seen for himself] It's funny.
JAMES. You gave it to Davis, and Davis sailed for Australia on Monday. Looks black, Cokeson.
COKESON. [Puzzled and upset] why this'd be a felony! No, no! there's some mistake.
JAMES. I hope so.
COKESON. 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 space after your figures, Walter.
WALTER. [Vexed] Yes, I know--I was in such a tearing hurry that afternoon.
COKESON. [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.
COKESON. 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 COKESON, who is disconsolately rubbing the knees of his trousers.
JAMES. Well, Cokeson! There's something in character, isn't there?
COKESON. [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.
COKESON. Ye-es! [He laughs. Then with a sudden gravity] I'm sorry for that young man. I feel it as if it was my own son, Mr. James.
JAMES. A nasty business!
COKESON. It unsettles you. All goes on regular, and then a thing like this happens. Shan't relish my lunch to-day.
JAMES. As bad as that, Cokeson?
COKESON. It makes you think. [Confidentially] He must have had temptation.
JAMES. Not so fast. We haven't convicted him yet.
COKESON. I'd sooner have lost a month's salary than had this happen. [He broods.]
JAMES. I hope that fellow will hurry up.
COKESON. [Keeping things pleasant for the cashier] It isn't fifty yards, Mr. James. He won't be a minute.
JAMES. The idea of dishonesty about this office it hits me hard, Cokeson.
He goes towards the door of the partners' room.
SWEEDLE. [Entering quietly, to COKESON in a low voice] She's popped up again, sir-something she forgot to say to Falder.
COKESON. [Roused from his abstraction] Eh? Impossible. Send her away!
JAMES. What's that?
COKESON. Nothing, Mr. James. A private matter. Here, I'll come myself. [He goes into the outer office as JAMES passes into the partners' room] Now, you really mustn't--we can't have anybody just now.
RUTH. Not for a minute, sir?
COKESON. Reely! Reely! I can't have it. If you want him, wait about; he'll be going out for his lunch directly.
RUTH. Yes, sir.
WALTER, entering with the cashier, passes RUTH as she leaves the outer office.
COKESON. [To the cashier, who resembles a sedentary dragoon] Good-morning. [To WALTER] Your father's in there.
WALTER crosses and goes into the partners' room.
COKESON. It's a nahsty, unpleasant little matter, Mr. Cowley. I'm quite ashamed to have to trouble you.
COWLEY. I remember the cheque quite well. [As if it were a liver] Seemed in perfect order.
COKESON. Sit down, won't you? I'm not a sensitive man, but a thing like this about the place--it's not nice. I like people to be open and jolly together.
COWLEY. Quite so.
COKESON. [Buttonholing him, and glancing toward the partners' room] Of course he's a young man. I've told him about it before now-- leaving space after his figures, but he will do it.
COWLEY. I should remember the person's face--quite a youth.
COKESON. I don't think we shall be able to show him to you, as a matter of fact.
JAMES and WALTER have come back from the partners' room.
JAMES. Good-morning, Mr. Cowley. You've seen my son and myself, you've seen Mr. Cokeson, and you've seen Sweedle, my office-boy. It was none of us, I take it.
The cashier shakes his head with a smile.
JAMES. Be so