EDWARD. Are you going to prosecute?
MR. BOOTH. [_shifting uneasily in his chair._] Oh, dear . . is that
necessary? Can't somebody else do that? I thought the Law--
EDWARD. You need not prosecute, you know.
MR. BOOTH. What'll happen if I don't.
EDWARD. What do you suppose I'm doing here now?
MR. BOOTH. [_as if he were being asked a riddle._] I don't know.
EDWARD. [_earnestly._] I'm trying to straighten things a little. I'm
trying to undo what my father did . . to do again what he undid. It's a
poor dull sort of work now . . throwing penny after penny hardly earned
into the pit of our deficit. But I've been doing that for what it's
worth in the time that was left to me . . till this should happen. I
never thought you'd bring it to pass. I can continue to do that if you
choose . . until the next smash comes. I'm pleased to call this my duty.
[_He searches_ MR. BOOTH'S _face and finds there only disbelief and
fear. He bursts out._] Oh, why won't you believe me? It can't hurt you
to believe it.
MR. BOOTH. You must admit, Edward, it isn't easy to believe anything in
this office . . just for the moment.
EDWARD. [_bowing to the extreme reasonableness of this._] I suppose not.
I can prove it to you. I'll take you through the books . . you won't
understand them . . but I could prove it.
MR. BOOTH. I think I'd rather not. D'you think I ought to hold any
further communication with you at all? [_and at this he takes his hat._]
EDWARD. [_with a little explosion of contemptuous anger._] Certainly
not. Prosecute . . prosecute!
MR. BOOTH. [_with dignity._] Don't lose your temper. You know it's my
place to be angry with you.
EDWARD. I beg your pardon. [_then he is elaborately explanatory._] I
shall be =grateful= if you'll prosecute.
MR. BOOTH. [_more puzzled than ever._] There's something in this which I
don't understand.
EDWARD. [_with deliberate unconcern._] Think it over.
MR. BOOTH. [_hesitating, fidgetting._] But surely I oughtn't to have to
make up my mind! There must be a right or a wrong thing to do. Edward,
can't =you= tell me?
EDWARD. I'm prejudiced.
MR. BOOTH. [_angrily._] What do you mean by placing me in a dilemma? I
believe you're simply trying to practise upon my goodness of heart.
Certainly I ought to prosecute at once . . Oughtn't I? [_then at the
nadir of helplessness._] Can't I consult another solicitor?
EDWARD. [_his chin in the air._] Write to the Times about it!
MR. BOOTH. [_shocked and grieved at his attitude._] Edward, how can you
be so cool and heartless?
EDWARD. [_changing his tone._] D'you think I shan't be glad to sleep at
nights?
MR. BOOTH. Perhaps you'll be put in prison?
EDWARD. I =am= in prison . . a less pleasant one than Wormwood Scrubbs.
But we're all prisoners, Mr. Booth.
MR. BOOTH. [_wagging his head._] Yes, this is what comes of your
philosophy. Why aren't you on your knees?
EDWARD. To you?
_This was not what_ MR. BOOTH _meant, but as he gets up from his chair
he feels all but mighty_.
MR. BOOTH. And why should you expect me to shrink from vindicating the
law?
EDWARD. [_shortly._] I don't. I've explained you'll be doing me a
kindness. When I'm wanted you'll find me here at my desk. [_then as an
afterthought._] If you take long to decide . . don't alter your
behaviour to my family in the meantime. They know the main points of the
business and--
MR. BOOTH. [_knocked right off his balance._] Do they! Good God! . . I'm
invited to dinner the day after to-morrow . . that's Christmas Eve. The
hypocrites!
EDWARD. [_unmoved._] I shall be there . . that will have given you two
days. Will you tell me then?
MR. BOOTH. [_protesting violently._] I can't go to dinner . . I can't
eat with them. I must be ill.
EDWARD. [_with a half smile._] I remember I went to dinner at
Chislehurst to tell my father of my decision.
MR. BOOTH. [_testily._] What decision?
EDWARD. To remain in the firm when I first knew of the difficulties.
MR. BOOTH. [_interested._] Was I present?
EDWARD. I daresay.
MR. BOOTH _stands there, hat, stick and gloves in hand, shaken by this
experience, helpless, at his wits' end. He falls into a sort of fretful
reverie, speaking half to himself but yet as if he hoped that_ EDWARD,
_who is wrapped in his own thoughts, would have the decency to answer,
or at least listen, to what he is saying_.
MR. BOOTH. Yes, how often I dined with him. Oh, it was monstrous! [_his
eyes fall on the clock._] It's nearly lunch time now. Do you know I
still can hardly believe all this? I wish I hadn't found it out. If he
hadn't died I should never have found it out. I hate to have to be
vindictive . . it's not my nature. Indeed I'm sure I'm more grieved than
angry. But it isn't as if it were a small sum. And I don't see that one
is called upon to forgive crimes . . or why does the Law exist? I feel
that this will go near to killing me. I'm too old to have such troubles
. . it isn't right. And now if I have to prosecute--
EDWARD. [_at last throwing in a word._] You need not.
MR. BOOTH. [_thankful for the provocation._] Don't you attempt to
influence me, sir.
_He turns to go._
EDWARD. With the money you have left. . .
EDWARD _follows him politely_. MR. BOOTH _flings the door open_.
MR. BOOTH. Make out a cheque for that at once and send it me.
EDWARD. You could . . .
MR. BOOTH. [_clapping his hat on, stamping his stick._] I shall do the
right thing, sir, never fear.
_So he marches off in fine style, having, he thinks, had the last word
and all. But_ EDWARD _closing the door after him, mutters_ . .
EDWARD. . . Save your soul! . . I'm afraid I was going to say.