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.     

CONTENTS

         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.     

CONTENTS

         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. 

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