EDWARD. [_hardly uttering the word._] Yes. MR. VOYSEY. From which you conclude? EDWARD. I concluded at first that you had not handed me all the papers connected with---- MR. VOYSEY. Since Mrs. Murberry evidently gets another four twenty a year somehow; lucky woman. EDWARD. [_in agony._] Oh! MR. VOYSEY. Well, we'll return to the good lady later. Now let's take the other. EDWARD. The Hatherley Trust. MR. VOYSEY. Quite so. EDWARD. [_with one accusing glance._] Trust. MR. VOYSEY. Go on. EDWARD. Oh, father . . _His grief comes uppermost again and_ MR. VOYSEY _meets it kindly_. MR. VOYSEY. I know, my dear boy. I shall have lots to say to you. But let's get quietly through with these details first. EDWARD. [_bitterly now._] Oh, this is simple enough. We're young Hatherley's only trustees till his coming of age in about five years' time. The property was eighteen thousand invested in Consols. Certain sums were to be allowed for his education; these have been and are still being paid. There is no record as to the rest of the capital. MR. VOYSEY. None? EDWARD. Yes . . I beg your pardon, sir. There's a memorandum to refer to the Bletchley Land Scheme. MR. VOYSEY. That must be ten years ago. But he's credited with the interest on his capital? EDWARD. On paper, sir. The balance was to be reinvested. There's a partial account in your hand writing. He's credited with the Consol interest. MR. VOYSEY. Quite so. EDWARD. I think I've heard you say that the Bletchley scheme paid seven and a half. MR. VOYSEY. At one time. Have you taken the trouble to calculate what will be due from us to the lad? EDWARD. Capital and compound interest . . . about twenty six thousand pounds. MR. VOYSEY. Yes, it's a large sum. In five years' time? EDWARD. When he comes of age. MR. VOYSEY. Well, that gives us, say four years and six months in which to think about it. EDWARD _waits, hopelessly, for his father to speak again; then says_ . . EDWARD. Thank you for showing me these, sir. Shall I put them back in your safe now? MR. VOYSEY. Yes, you'd better. There's the key. [EDWARD _reaches for the bunch, his face hidden_.] Put them down. Your hand shakes . . why, you might have been drinking . . I'll put them away later. It's no use having hysterics, Edward. Look the trouble in the face. EDWARD'S _only answer is to go to the fire, as far from his father as the room allows. And there he leans on the mantelpiece, his shoulders heaving._ MR. VOYSEY. I'm sorry, my dear boy. I wouldn't tell you if I could help it. EDWARD. I can't believe it. And that you should be telling it me. MR. VOYSEY. Let your feelings go and get that part of the business over. It isn't pleasant, I know. It isn't pleasant to inflict it on you. EDWARD. How I got through that outer office this morning, I don't know. I came early but some of them were here. Peacey came into my room, he must have seen there was something up. MR. VOYSEY. That's no matter.