~Smith~ (_at the telephone_). Hallo, is that you, Jones?... Yes, it's me. Just come up a moment. (_Puts down telephone and begins to open his letters._) _Enter_ Jones, _his favourite sub-editor. He is dressed quite commonly, and is covered with ink. He salutes respectfully as he comes into the room._ ~Jones.~ Good afternoon, chief. ~Smith.~ Good afternoon. Have a cigar? ~Jones.~ Thank you, chief. ~Smith.~ Have you anything to tell me? ~Jones.~ The circulation is still going up, chief. It was three million and eight last week. ~Smith~ (_testily_). How often have I told you not to call me "chief," except when there are ladies present? Why can't you do what you're told? ~Jones.~ Sorry, sir, but the fact is there are ladies present. ~Smith~ (_fingering his moustache_). Show them up. Who are they? ~Jones.~ There is only one. She says she's the lady who has been writing our anonymous "Secrets of the Boudoir" series which has made such a sensation. ~Smith~ (in amazement). I thought you told me _you_ wrote those. ~Jones~ (simply). I did. ~Smith.~ Then why---- ~Jones.~ I mean I did tell you. The truth is they came in anonymously, and I thought they were more likely to be accepted if I said I had written them. (_With great emotion._) Forgive me, chief, but it was for the paper's sake. (_In matter-of-fact tones._) There were one or two peculiarities of style I had to alter. She had a way of---- ~Smith~ (_sternly_). How many cheques for them have you accepted for the paper's sake? ~Jones.~ Eight. For a thousand pounds each. ~Smith~ (_with tears in his eyes_). If your mother were to hear of this---- ~Jones~ (_sadly_). Ah, chief, I never had a mother. ~Smith~ (_slightly put out, but recovering himself quickly_). What would your father say if---- ~Jones.~ Alas, I have no relations. I was a foundling. ~Smith~ (_nettled_). In that case I shall certainly tell the master of your workhouse. To think that there should be a thief in this office. ~Jones~ (_with great pathos_). Chief, chief, I am not so vile as that. I have carefully kept all the cheques in an old stocking, and---- ~Smith~ (_in surprise_). Do you wear stockings? ~Jones~ When I bicycle. And as soon as the contributor comes forward---- ~Smith~ (_stretching out his hand and grasping that of Jones_). My dear boy, forgive me. You have been hasty, perhaps, but zealous. In any case, your honesty is above suspicion. Leave me now. I have much to think of. (_Rests his head on his hands. Then, dreamily._) You have never seen your father; for thirty years _I_ have not seen my wife.... Ah, Arabella! ~Jones.~ Yes, sir. (_Rings bell._) ~Smith.~ She _would_ split her infinitives.... We quarrelled.... She left me.... I have never seen her again.