EDWARD. Anything between two and three hundred thousand pounds.
BOOTH. [_very impressed and not unfavourably._] Dear me . . this is a
big affair!
HUGH. [_following his own line of thought._] Quite apart from the rights
and wrongs of this, only a very able man could have kept a straight face
to the world all these years, as the Pater did.
BOOTH. I suppose he sometimes made money by these speculations.
EDWARD. Very often. His own expenditure was heavy, as you know.
BOOTH. [_with gratitude for favours received._] He was a very generous
man.
HUGH. Did nobody ever suspect him?
EDWARD. You see, Hugh, when there was any danger . . when a trust had to
be wound up . . he'd make a great effort and put the accounts straight.
BOOTH. Then he did put some accounts straight?
EDWARD. Yes, when he couldn't help himself.
BOOTH _looks very enquiring and then squares himself up to the subject_.
BOOTH. Now look here, Edward. You told us that he told you that it was
the object of his life to put these accounts straight. Then you laughed
at that. Now you tell me that he did put some accounts straight.
EDWARD. [_wearily._] My dear Booth, you don't understand.
BOOTH. Well, let me understand . . I am anxious to understand.
EDWARD. We can't pay ten shillings in the pound.
BOOTH. That's very dreadful. But do you know that there wasn't a time
when we couldn't have paid five?
EDWARD. [_acquiescent._] I don't know.
BOOTH. Very well then! If what he said was true about his father and all
that . . and why shouldn't we believe him if we can? . . and he did
effect an improvement, that's all to his credit. Let us at least be
just, Edward.
EDWARD. [_patiently polite._] I am very sorry to appear unjust. He has
left me in a rather unfortunate position.
BOOTH. Yes, his death was a tragedy. It seems to me that if he had been
spared he might have succeeded at length in this tremendous task and
restored to us our family honour.
EDWARD. Yes, Booth, he spoke very feelingly of that.
BOOTH. [_Irony lost upon him._] I can well believe it. And I can tell
you that now . . I may be right or I may be wrong . . I am feeling far
less concerned about the clients' money than I am at the terrible blow
to the Family which this exposure will strike. Money, after all, can to
a certain extent be done without . . but Honour--
_This is too much for_ EDWARD.
EDWARD. Our honour! Does one of you mean to give me a single penny
towards undoing all the wrong that has been done?
BOOTH. I take Trenchard's word for it that that would be illegal.
EDWARD. Well . . don't talk to me of honour.
BOOTH. [_somewhat nettled at this outburst._] I am speaking of the
public exposure. Edward, can't that be prevented?
EDWARD. [_with quick suspicion._] How?
BOOTH. Well . . how was it being prevented before he died--before we
knew anything about it?
EDWARD. [_appealing to the spirits that watch over him._] Oh, listen to
this! First Trenchard . . and now you! You've the poison in your blood,
every one of you. Who am I to talk? I daresay so have I.
BOOTH. [_reprovingly._] I am beginning to think that you have worked
yourself into rather an hysterical state over this unhappy business.
EDWARD. [_rating him._] Perhaps you'd have been glad . . glad if I'd
held my tongue and gone on lying and cheating . . and married and
begotten a son to go on lying and cheating after me . . and to pay you
your interest . . your interest in the lie and the cheat.
BOOTH. [_with statesman-like calm._] Look here, Edward, this rhetoric is
exceedingly out of place. The simple question before us is . . What is
the best course to pursue?
EDWARD. There is no question before us. There's only one course to
pursue.
BOOTH. [_crushingly._] You will let me speak, please. In so far as our
poor father was dishonest to his clients, I pray that he may be
forgiven. In so far as he spent his life honestly endeavouring to right
a wrong which he had found already committed . . I forgive him. I
admire him, Edward. And I feel it my duty to--er--reprobate most
strongly the--er--gusto with which you have been holding him up in
memory to us . . ten minutes after we have stood round his grave . . as
a monster of wickedness. I think I may say I knew him as well as you . .
better. And . . thank God! . . there was not between him and me
this--this unhappy business to warp my judgment of him. [_he warms to
his subject._] Did you ever know a more charitable man . . a
larger-hearted? He was a faithful husband . . and what a father to all
of us, putting us out into the world and fully intending to leave us
comfortably settled there. Further . . as I see this matter, Edward . .
when as a young man he was told this terrible secret and entrusted with
such a frightful task . . did he turn his back on it like a coward? No.
He went through it heroically to the end of his life. And as he died I
imagine there was no more torturing thought than that he had left his
work unfinished. [_he is very satisfied with this peroration._] And now
if all these clients can be kept receiving their natural income and if
Father's plan could be carried out of gradually replacing the capital--
EDWARD _at this raises his head and stares with horror_.
EDWARD. You're appealing to me to carry on this . . Oh, you don't know
what you're talking about!
_The Major, having talked himself back to a proper eminence remains
good-tempered._
BOOTH. Well, I'm not a conceited man . . but I do think that I can
understand a simple financial problem when it has been explained to me.
EDWARD. You don't know the nerve . . the unscrupulous daring it requires
to--