COKESON. It's such a little thing--hardly worth the fees. I thought you'd do it yourself. WALTER. Send it, please. I don't want the responsibility. COKESON. [With an indescribable air of compassion] Just as you like. This "right-of-way" case--we've got 'em on the deeds. WALTER. I know; but the intention was obviously to exclude that bit of common ground. 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. 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. 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. Five guineas to Smithers and my expenses. It just covered all but half a crown. JAMES. [Gravely] Let's look at that ninety cheque. [He sorts the cheque out from the bundle in the pocket of the pass-book] Seems all right. There's no nine here. This is bad. Who cashed that nine-pound cheque? WALTER. [Puzzled and pained] Let's see! I was finishing Mrs. Reddy's will--only just had time; yes--I gave it to Cokeson. JAMES. Look at that 't' 'y': that yours? WALTER. [After consideration] My y's curl back a little; this doesn't. JAMES. [As COKESON re-enters from FALDER'S room] We must ask him. Just come here and carry your mind back a bit, Cokeson. D'you remember cashing a cheque for Mr. Walter last Friday week--the day he went to Trenton? COKESON. Ye-es. Nine pounds. JAMES. Look at this. [Handing him the cheque.]