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 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?