Cokeson. [To himself] There’s a dear woman.

James.  The situation is impossible.

Ruth.  Must I, Sir?

James. [Forcing himself to look at her] I put it to you, ma’am.  His future is in your hands.

Ruth. [Miserably] I want to do the best for him.

James. [A little huskily] That’s right, that’s right!

Falder.  I don’t understand.  You’re not going to give me up—­after all this?  There’s something—­[Starting forward to James] Sir, I swear solemnly there’s been nothing between us.

James.  I believe you, Falder.  Come, my lad, be as plucky as she is.

Falder.  Just now you were going to help us. [He starts at Ruth, who is standing absolutely still; his face and hands twitch and quiver as the truth dawns on him] What is it?  You’ve not been—­

Walter.  Father!

James. [Hurriedly] There, there!  That’ll do, that’ll do!  I’ll give you your chance, Falder.  Don’t let me know what you do with yourselves, that’s all.

Falder. [As if he has not heard] Ruth?

     Ruth looks at him; and Falder covers his face with his hands. 
     There is silence.

Cokeson. [Suddenly] There’s some one out there. [To Ruth] Go in here.  You’ll feel better by yourself for a minute.

He points to the clerks’ room and moves towards the outer office.  Falder does not move.  Ruth puts out her hand timidly.  He shrinks back from the touch.  She turns and goes miserably into the clerks’ room.  With a brusque movement he follows, seizing her by the shoulder just inside the doorway.  Cokeson shuts the door.

James. [Pointing to the outer office] Get rid of that, whoever it is.

Sweedle. [Opening the office door, in a scared voice]
Detective-Sergeant blister.

     The detective enters, and closes the door behind him.

Wister.  Sorry to disturb you, sir.  A clerk you had here, two years and a half ago:  I arrested him in, this room.

James.  What about him?

Wister.  I thought perhaps I might get his whereabouts from you. [There is an awkward silence]

Cokeson. [Pleasantly, coming to the rescue] We’re not responsible for his movements; you know that.

James.  What do you want with him?

Wister.  He’s failed to report himself this last four weeks.

Walter.  How d’you mean?

Wister.  Ticket-of-leave won’t be up for another six months, sir.

Walter.  Has he to keep in touch with the police till then?

Wister.  We’re bound to know where he sleeps every night.  I dare say we shouldn’t interfere, sir, even though he hasn’t reported himself.  But we’ve just heard there’s a serious matter of obtaining employment with a forged reference.  What with the two things together—­we must have him.