JAMES. Look at that 't' 'y': that yours?
WALTER. [After consideration] My y's curl back a little; this doesn't.
JAMES. [As COKESON re-enters from FALDER'S room] We must ask him. Just come here and carry your mind back a bit, Cokeson. D'you remember cashing a cheque for Mr. Walter last Friday week—the day he went to Trenton?
COKESON. Ye-es. Nine pounds.
JAMES. Look at this. [Handing him the cheque.]
COKESON. No! Nine pounds. My lunch was just coming in; and of course I like it hot; I gave the cheque to Davis to run round to the bank. He brought it back, all gold—you remember, Mr. Walter, you wanted some silver to pay your cab. [With a certain contemptuous compassion] Here, let me see. You've got the wrong cheque.
He takes cheque-book and pass-book from WALTER.
WALTER. Afraid not.
COKESON. [Having seen for himself] It's funny.
JAMES. You gave it to Davis, and Davis sailed for Australia on
Monday. Looks black, Cokeson.