Strickland. The rest was easy. Nothing succeeds like a good reputation, and he didn't steal because he knew they'd catch him. [He pauses again.] But he wasn't honest at bottom! The rotten streak was still there! After twenty-eight years things began to be bad. He speculated: lost all the money he could call his own, and he made up his mind to take other money that wasn't his own, all he could lay his hands on, and run off with it! It was wrong! It was the work of a lifetime gone to hell! But it was the rottenness in him coming to the surface! It was the thief he thought dead coming to life again!
The Girl [after a pause]. What a pity!
Strickland. He had been honest so long—he had made other people think that he was honest so long, that he had made himself think that he was honest!
The Girl. Was he wrong, Mr. Strickland?
Strickland [looking into her eyes; very quietly]. Stevens, please. [There is a long pause.] I don't know what sent you: who sent you: but you've come here to-night as I am running away. You're too late. You can't stop me. Not even the finger of God Himself could stop me! I've gone too far. [He goes on in a voice which is low, but terrible in its earnestness.] Here is money! [He pulls out his pocketbook.] Hundreds of thousands of it, not a cent of it mine! And I'm stealing it, do you understand me? Stealing it! To-morrow the firm will be bankrupt, and there'll be a reward out for me. [He smiles grimly, and bows.] Here, if you please, is your honest man! What have you to say to him?
The Girl [very quietly]. The man who has been honest so long that he has made himself think that he is honest can't steal!
Strickland [hoarsely]. You believe that?
The Girl [opening her bag again]. I was left a little money this week: only a few hundred dollars, hardly enough to bother you with. Will you take care of it for me—Alfred Stevens?
Strickland. Good God!
[And utterly unnerved he collapses to a chair. There is a long pause.]