JAMES. It's a matter of form; but I can't stand upon niceness over a thing like this—too serious. Just talk to Mr. Cowley.
He opens the door of FALDER'S room.
JAMES. Bring in the papers in Boulter's lease, will you, Falder?
COKESON. [Bursting into voice] Do you keep dogs?
The cashier, with his eyes fixed on the door, does not answer.
COKESON. You haven't such a thing as a bulldog pup you could spare me, I suppose?
At the look on the cashier's face his jaw drops, and he turns to see FALDER standing in the doorway, with his eyes fixed on COWLEY, like the eyes of a rabbit fastened on a snake.
FALDER. [Advancing with the papers] Here they are, sir!
JAMES. [Taking them] Thank you.
FALDER. Do you want me, sir?