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 FALDER comes shrinkingly out, the detective in obedience to a sign from JAMES, slips his hand out and grasps his arm.
FALDER. [Recoiling] Oh! no, – oh! no!
WALTER. Come, come, there's a good lad.
JAMES. I charge him with felony.
FALTER. Oh, sir! There's some one – I did it for her. Let me be till to-morrow.
JAMES motions with his hand. At that sign of hardness, FALDER becomes rigid. Then, turning, he goes out quietly in the detective's grip. JAMES follows, stiff and erect. SWEEDLE, rushing to the door with open mouth, pursues them through the outer office into the corridor. When they have all disappeared COKESON spins completely round and makes a rush for the outer office.
COKESON: [Hoarsely] Here! What are we doing?
There is silence. He takes out his handkerchief and mops the sweat from his face. Going back blindly to his table, sits down, and stares blankly at his lunch.
ACT II
A Court of Justice, on a foggy October afternoon crowded with barristers, solicitors, reporters, ushers, and jurymen. Sitting in the large, solid dock is FALDER, with a warder on either side of him, placed there for his safe custody, but seemingly indifferent to and unconscious of his presence. FALDER is sitting exactly opposite to the JUDGE, who, raised above the clamour of the court, also seems unconscious of and indifferent
