Justice
PERSONS OF THE PLAY
JAMES HOW, solicitor
WALTER HOW, solicitor
ROBERT COKESON, their managing clerk
WILLIAM FALDER, their junior clerk
SWEEDLE, their office-boy
WISTER, a detective
COWLEY, a cashier
MR. JUSTICE FLOYD, a judge
HAROLD CLEAVER, an old advocate
HECTOR FROME, a young advocate
CAPTAIN DANSON, V.C., a prison governor
THE REV. HUGH MILLER, a prison chaplain
EDWARD CLEMENT, a prison doctor
WOODER, a chief warder
MOANEY, convict
CLIFTON, convict
O'CLEARY, convict
RUTH HONEYWILL, a woman
A NUMBER OF BARRISTERS, SOLICITERS, SPECTATORS, USHERS, REPORTERS,
JURYMEN, WARDERS, AND PRISONERS
TIME: The Present.
ACT I. The office of James and Walter How. Morning. July.
ACT II. Assizes. Afternoon. October.
ACT III. A prison. December.
SCENE I. The Governor's office.
SCENE II. A corridor.
SCENE III. A cell.
ACT IV. The office of James and Walter How. Morning.
March, two years later.
ACT I
The scene is the managing clerk's room, at the offices of James and Walter How, on a July morning. The room is old fashioned, furnished with well-worn mahogany and leather, and lined with tin boxes and estate plans. It has three doors. Two of them are close together in the centre of a wall. One of these two doors leads to the outer office, which is only divided from the managing clerk's room by a partition of wood and clear glass; and when the door into this outer office is opened there can be seen the wide outer door leading out on to the stone stairway of the building. The other of these two centre doors leads to the junior clerk's room. The third door is that leading to the partners' room. The managing clerk, COKESON, is sitting at his table adding up figures in a pass-book, and murmuring their numbers to himself. He is a man of sixty, wearing spectacles; rather short, with a bald head, and an honest, pugdog face. He is dressed in a well-worn black frock-coat and pepper-and-salt trousers.
COKESON. And five's twelve, and three – fifteen, nineteen, twenty-three, thirty-two, forty-one-and carry four. [He ticks the page, and goes on murmuring] Five, seven, twelve, seventeen, twenty-four and nine, thirty-three, thirteen and carry one.
He again makes a tick. The outer office door is opened, and SWEEDLE, the office-boy, appears, closing the door behind him. He is a pale youth of sixteen, with spiky hair.
COKESON. [With grumpy expectation] And carry one.
SWEEDLE. There's a party wants to see Falder, Mr. Cokeson.
COKESON. Five, nine, sixteen, twenty-one, twenty-nine – and carry two. Send him to Morris's. What name?
SWEEDLE. Honeywill.
COKESON. What's his business?
SWEEDLE. It's a woman.
COKESON. A lady?
SWEEDLE. No, a person.
COKESON. Ask her in. Take this pass-book to Mr. James. [He closes the pass-book.]
SWEEDLE. [Reopening the door] Will you come in, please?
RUTH HONEYWILL comes in. She is a tall woman, twenty-six years old, unpretentiously dressed, with black hair and eyes, and an ivory-white, clear-cut face. She stands very still, having a natural dignity of pose and gesture. SWEEDLE goes out into the partners' room with the pass-book.
COKESON. [Looking round at RUTH] The young man's out. [Suspiciously] State your business, please.
RUTH. [Who speaks in a matter-of-fact voice, and with a slight West-Country accent] It's a personal matter, sir.
COKESON. We don't allow private callers here. Will you leave a message?
RUTH. I'd rather see him, please.
She narrows her dark eyes and gives him a honeyed look.
COKESON. [Expanding] It's all against the rules. Suppose I had my friends here to see me! It'd never do!
RUTH. No, sir.
COKESON. [A little taken aback] Exactly! And here you are wanting to see a junior clerk!
RUTH. Yes, sir; I must see him.
COKESON. [Turning full round to her with a sort of outraged interest] But this is a lawyer's office. Go to his private address.
RUTH. He's not there.
COKESON. [Uneasy] Are you related to the party?
RUTH. No, sir.
COKESON. [In real embarrassment] I don't know what to say. It's no affair of the office.
RUTH. But what am I to do?
COKESON. Dear me! I can't tell you that.
SWEEDLE comes back. He crosses to the outer office and passes through into it, with a quizzical look at Cokeson, carefully leaving the door an inch or two open.
COKESON. [Fortified by this look] This won't do, you know, this won't do at all. Suppose one of the partners came in!
An incoherent knocking and chuckling is heard from the outer door of the outer office.
SWEEDLE. [Putting his head in] There's some children outside here.
RUTH. They're mine, please.
SWEEDLE. Shall I hold them in check?
RUTH. They're quite small, sir. [She takes a step towards COKESON]
COKESON. You mustn't take up his time in office hours; we're a clerk short as it is.
RUTH. It's a matter of life and death.
COKESON. [Again outraged] Life and death!
SWEEDLE. Here is Falder.
FALDER has entered through the outer office. He is a pale, good-looking young man, with quick, rather scared eyes. He moves towards the door of the clerks' office, and stands there irresolute.
COKESON. Well, I'll give you a minute. It's not regular.
Taking up a bundle of papers, he goes out into the partners' room.
RUTH. [In a low, hurried voice] He's on the drink again, Will. He tried to cut my throat last night. I came out with the children before he was awake. I went round to you.
FALDER. I've changed my digs.
RUTH. Is it all ready for to-night?
FALDER. I've got the tickets. Meet me 11.45 at the booking office. For God's sake don't forget we're man and wife! [Looking at her with tragic intensity] Ruth!
RUTH. You're not afraid of going, are you?
FALDER. Have you got your things, and the children's?
RUTH. Had to leave them, for fear of waking Honeywill, all but one bag. I can't go near home again.
FALDER. [Wincing] All that money gone for nothing. How much must you have?
RUTH. Six pounds – I could do with that, I think.
FALDER. Don't give away where we're going. [As if to himself] When I get out there I mean to forget it all.
RUTH. If you're sorry, say so. I'd sooner he killed me than take you against your will.
FALDER.