COKESON. [With Some dignity] That'll look after itself, sir. He's been upset once this morning; I don't want him startled again.     

       JAMES. It's a matter of form; but I can't stand upon niceness over a thing like this—too serious. Just talk to Mr. Cowley.     

CONTENTS

         He opens the door of FALDER'S room.       

       JAMES. Bring in the papers in Boulter's lease, will you, Falder?     

       COKESON. [Bursting into voice] Do you keep dogs?     

CONTENTS

         The cashier, with his eyes fixed on the door, does not answer.       

       COKESON. You haven't such a thing as a bulldog pup you could spare me, I suppose?     

CONTENTS

         At the look on the cashier's face his jaw drops, and he turns to see FALDER standing in the doorway, with his eyes fixed on COWLEY, like the eyes of a rabbit fastened on a snake.       

       FALDER. [Advancing with the papers] Here they are, sir!     

       JAMES. [Taking them] Thank you.     

       FALDER. Do you want me, sir?     

       JAMES. No, thanks!     

CONTENTS

         FALDER turns and goes back into his own room. As he shuts the door JAMES gives the cashier an interrogative look, and the cashier nods.       

       JAMES. Sure? This isn't as we suspected.     

       COWLEY. Quite. He knew me. I suppose he can't slip out of that room?     

       COKESON. [Gloomily] There's only the window—a whole floor and a basement.     

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