The door of FALDER'S room is quietly opened, and FALDER, with
his hat in his hand, moves towards the door of the outer office.
JAMES. [Quietly] Where are you going, Falder?
FALDER. To have my lunch, sir.
JAMES. Wait a few minutes, would you? I want to speak to you about this lease.
FALDER. Yes, sir. [He goes back into his room.]
COWLEY. If I'm wanted, I can swear that's the young man who cashed the cheque. It was the last cheque I handled that morning before my lunch. These are the numbers of the notes he had. [He puts a slip of paper on the table; then, brushing his hat round] Good-morning!
JAMES. Good-morning, Mr. Cowley!
COWLEY. [To COKESON] Good-morning.
COKESON. [With Stupefaction] Good-morning.
The cashier goes out through the outer office. COKESON sits down in his chair, as though it were the only place left in the morass of his feelings.