(MR. Y. points to the box.)
MR. X. No, I don't want to do that. I don't want to become a thief.
MR. Y. Oh, don't put on any airs now! Do you think I'll believe that you haven't helped yourself out of that box before?
MR. X. [As if speaking to himself] Think only, that I could let myself be fooled so completely. But that's the way with these soft natures. You like them, and then it's so easy to believe that they like you. And that's the reason why I have always been on my guard against people I take a liking to!—So you are firmly convinced that I have helped myself out of the box before?
MR. Y. Certainly! MR. X. And you are going to report me if you don't get six thousand crowns?
MR. Y. Most decidedly! You can't get out of it, so there's no use trying.
MR. X. You think I am going to give my father a thief for son, my wife a thief for husband, my children a thief for father, my fellow-workers a thief for colleague? No, that will never happen!—Now I am going over to the sheriff to report the killing myself.
MR. Y. [Jumps up and begins to pick up his things] Wait a moment!
MR. X. For what?
MR. Y. [Stammering] Oh, I thought—as I am no longer needed—it wouldn't be necessary for me to stay—and I might just as well leave.