Jones. I mean I did tell you. The truth is, they came in
anonymously, and I thought they were more likely to be accepted if I
said I had written them. (With great emotion.) Forgive me, chief,
but it was for the paper's sake. (In matter-of-fact tones.) There
were one or two peculiarities of style I had to alter. She had a way
of--
Smith (sternly). How many cheques for them have you accepted for the
paper's sake?
Jones. Eight. For a thousand pounds each.
Smith (with tears in his eyes). If your mother were to hear of
this--
Jones (sadly). Ah, chief, I have never had a mother.
Smith (slightly put out, but recovering himself quickly). What would
your father say, if--
Jones. Alas, I have no relations. I was a foundling.
Smith (nettled). In that case, I shall certainly tell the master of
your workhouse. To think that there should be a thief in this
office!
Jones (with great pathos). Chief, chief, I am not so vile as that. I
have carefully kept all the cheques in an old stocking, and--
Smith (in surprise). Do you wear stockings?
Jones. When I bicycle. And as soon as the contributor comes
forward--
Smith (stretching out his hand and grasping that of Jones). My dear
boy, forgive me. You have been hasty, perhaps, but zealous. In any
case, your honesty is above suspicion. Leave me now. I have much to
think of. (Rests his head on his hands. Then, dreamily.) YOU have
never seen your father; for thirty years _I_ have not seen my wife.
... Ah, Arabella!