EDWARD. [_still quite unstrung really, and his nerves betraying him._] If you had made up your mind before my father died to do this, you ought to have told =him=. MR. BOOTH. Please allow me to know my own business best. I did not choose to distress him by-- EDWARD. [_pulling himself together: speaking half to himself._] Well . . well . . this is one way out. And it's not my fault. MR. BOOTH. You're making a fearful fuss about a very simple matter, Edward. The loss of one client, however important he may be . . Why, this is one of the best family practices in London. I am surprised at your lack of dignity. EDWARD _yields smilingly to this assertiveness_. EDWARD. True . . I have no dignity. Will you walk off with your papers now? MR. BOOTH. What notice is usual? EDWARD. To a good solicitor, five minutes. Ten to a poor one. MR. BOOTH. You'll have to explain matters a bit to me. _Now_ EDWARD _settles to his desk again; really with a certain grim enjoyment of the prospect_. EDWARD. Yes, I had better. Well, Mr. Booth, how much do you think you're worth? MR. BOOTH. [_easily._] I couldn't say off hand. EDWARD. But you've a rough idea? MR. BOOTH. To be sure. EDWARD. You'll get not quite half that out of us. MR. BOOTH. [_precisely._] I think I said I had made up my mind to withdraw the whole amount. EDWARD. You should have made up your mind sooner. MR. BOOTH. I don't in the least understand you, Edward. EDWARD. A great part of your capital doesn't exist. MR. BOOTH. [_with some irritation._] Nonsense, it must exist. [_He scans_ EDWARD'S _set face in vain_.] You mean that it won't be prudent to realise? You can hand over the securities. I don't want to reinvest simply because-- EDWARD. I can't hand over what I haven't got. _This sentence falls on the old man's ears like a knell._ MR. BOOTH. Is anything . . =wrong=? EDWARD. [_grim and patient._] How many more times am I to say that we have robbed you of nearly half your property? MR. BOOTH. [_his senses failing him._] Say that again. EDWARD. It's quite true. MR. BOOTH. My money . . =gone=? EDWARD. Yes. MR. BOOTH. [_clutching at a straw of anger._] You've been the thief . . you . . you . . ? EDWARD. I wouldn't tell you if I could help it . . my father. _That actually calls the old man back to something like dignity and self-possession. He thumps on_ EDWARD'S _table furiously_. MR. BOOTH. I'll make you prove that. _And now_ EDWARD _buries his face in his arms and just goes off into hysterics_. EDWARD. Oh, you've fired a mine! MR. BOOTH. [_scolding him well._] Slandering your dead father . . and lying to me, revenging yourself by frightening me . . because I detest you. EDWARD. Why . . haven't I thanked you for putting an end to all my troubles? I do . . I promise you I do.