room with the pass-book.       

       COKESON. [Looking round at RUTH] The young man's out. [Suspiciously] State your business, please.     

       RUTH. [Who speaks in a matter-of-fact voice, and with a slight West-Country accent] It's a personal matter, sir.     

       COKESON. We don't allow private callers here. Will you leave a message?     

       RUTH. I'd rather see him, please.     

CONTENTS

         She narrows her dark eyes and gives him a honeyed look.       

       COKESON. [Expanding] It's all against the rules. Suppose I had my friends here to see me! It'd never do!     

       RUTH. No, sir.     

       COKESON. [A little taken aback] Exactly! And here you are wanting to see a junior clerk!     

       RUTH. Yes, sir; I must see him.     

       COKESON. [Turning full round to her with a sort of outraged interest] But this is a lawyer's office. Go to his private address.     

       RUTH. He's not there.     

       COKESON. [Uneasy] Are you related to the party?     

       RUTH. No, sir.     

       COKESON. [In real embarrassment] I don't know what to say. It's no affair of the office.     

       RUTH. But what am I to do?     

       COKESON. Dear me! I can't tell you that.     

CONTENTS

         SWEEDLE comes back. He crosses to the outer office and passes through into it, with a quizzical look at Cokeson, carefully leaving the door an inch or two open.       

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