Geoffrey. Won’t you sit down? (He puts a chair for her left of the table.)
Mrs. Chinn. (Seating herself.) Thank you, sir.
Geoffrey. (He half sits on the arm of the easy-chair below the fire.) What’s the trouble?
Mrs. Chinn. It’s my boy, sir—my youngest. He’s been taking money that didn’t belong to him.
Geoffrey. Um. Has it been going on for long?
Mrs. Chinn. About six months, sir. I only heard of it to-night. You see, his wife died a year ago. She was such a good manager. And after she was gone he seems to have got into debt.
Geoffrey. What were his wages?
Mrs. Chinn. Nineteen shillings a week, sir. And that with the rent and three young children—well, it wants thinking out.
Geoffrey. From whom did he take the money—his employers?
Mrs. Chinn. Yes, sir. He was the carman. They had always trusted him to collect the accounts.