Justice | Page 5

with the children before he was awake. I went round to you.
FALDER. I've changed my digs.
RUTH. Is it all ready for to-night?
FALDER. I've got the tickets. Meet me 11.45 at the booking office. For God's sake don't forget we're man and wife! [Looking at her with tragic intensity] Ruth!
RUTH. You're not afraid of going, are you?
FALDER. Have you got your things, and the children's?
RUTH. Had to leave them, for fear of waking Honeywill, all but one bag. I can't go near home again.
FALDER. [Wincing] All that money gone for nothing. How much must you have?
RUTH. Six pounds--I could do with that, I think.
FALDER. Don't give away where we're going. [As if to himself] When I get out there I mean to forget it all.
RUTH. If you're sorry, say so. I'd sooner he killed me than take you against your will.
FALDER. [With a queer smile] We've got to go. I don't care; I'll have you.
RUTH. You've just to say; it's not too late.
FALDER. It is too late. Here's seven pounds. Booking office 11.45 to-night. If you weren't what you are to me, Ruth----!
RUTH. Kiss me!
They cling together passionately, there fly apart just as COKESON re-enters the room. RUTH turns and goes out through the outer office. COKESON advances deliberately to his chair and seats himself.
COKESON. This isn't right, Falder.
FALDER. It shan't occur again, sir.
COKESON. It's an improper use of these premises.
FALDER. Yes, sir.
COKESON. You quite understand-the party was in some distress; and, having children with her, I allowed my feelings----[He opens a drawer and produces from it a tract] Just take this! "Purity in the Home." It's a well-written thing.
FALDER. [Taking it, with a peculiar expression] Thank you, sir.
COKESON. And look here, Falder, before Mr. Walter comes, have you finished up that cataloguing Davis had in hand before he left?
FALDER. I shall have done with it to-morrow, sir--for good.
COKESON. It's over a week since Davis went. Now it won't do, Falder. You're neglecting your work for private life. I shan't mention about the party having called, but----
FALDER. [Passing into his room] Thank you, sir.
COKESON stares at the door through which FALDER has gone out; then shakes his head, and is just settling down to write, when WALTER How comes in through the outer Office. He is a rather refined-looking man of thirty-five, with a pleasant, almost apologetic voice.
WALTER. Good-morning, Cokeson.
COKESON. Morning, Mr. Walter.
WALTER. My father here?
COKESON. [Always with a certain patronage as to a young man who might be doing better] Mr. James has been here since eleven o'clock.
WALTER. I've been in to see the pictures, at the Guildhall.
COKESON. [Looking at him as though this were exactly what was to be expected] Have you now--ye--es. This lease of Boulter's--am I to send it to counsel?
WALTER. What does my father say?
COKESON. 'Aven't bothered him.
WALTER. Well, we can't be too careful.
COKESON. It's such a little thing--hardly worth the fees. I thought you'd do it yourself.
WALTER. Send it, please. I don't want the responsibility.
COKESON. [With an indescribable air of compassion] Just as you like. This "right-of-way" case--we've got 'em on the deeds.
WALTER. I know; but the intention was obviously to exclude that bit of common ground.
COKESON. We needn't worry about that. We're the right side of the law.
WALTER. I don't like it,
COKESON. [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?
COKESON. [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 pass-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