_Sergeant:_ Tell me the truth and it will be better for you.
_Fardy:_ (_Weeping._) Let me go and I will.
_Sergeant:_ (_Letting go._) Now--who did you get it from?
_Fardy:_ From that young chap came to-day, Mr. Halvey.
_Mr. Quirke:_ (_Indignantly._) What are you saying, you young ruffian you? Hyacinth Halvey to be playing pitch and toss with the like of you!
_Miss Joyce:_ You did say it. You said it now.
_Mr. Quirke:_ Hyacinth Halvey! The best man that ever came into this town!
_Mr. Quirke:_ It's my belief the half-crown is a bad one. May be it's to pass it off it was given to him. There were tinkers in the town at the time of the fair. Give it here to me. (_Bites it._) No, indeed, it's sound enough. Here, Sergeant, it's best for you take it.
(_Gives it to Sergeant, who examines it._)
_Sergeant:_ Can it be? Can it be what I think it to be?
_Mr. Quirke:_ What is it? What do you take it to be?
_Sergeant:_ It is, it is. I know it. I know this half-crown----
_Mr. Quirke:_ That is a queer thing, now.
_Sergeant:_ I know it well. I have been handling it in the church for the last twelvemonth----
_Sergeant:_ It is the nest-egg half-crown we hand round in the collection plate every Sunday morning. I know it by the dint on the Queen's temples and the crooked scratch under her nose.
_Mr. Quirke:_ (_Examining it._) So there is, too.
_Sergeant:_ This is a bad business. It has been stolen from the church.
_Sergeant:_ (_Seizing Fardy._) You have robbed the church!
_Fardy:_ (_Terrified._) I tell you I never did!
_Fardy:_ Say what you like! I never put a foot in it!
_Miss Joyce:_ I suppose from the stranger?
_Mrs. Delane:_ I suppose it was Hyacinth Halvey gave it to you, now?
_Sergeant:_ I suppose it was he robbed the church?
_Fardy:_ (_Sobs._) You will not believe me if I say it.
_Mr. Quirke:_ O! the young vagabond! Let me get at him!
(_Hyacinth comes in. Fardy releases himself and creeps behind him._)
_Mrs. Delane:_ It is time you to come, Mr. Halvey, and shut the mouth of this young schemer.
_Miss Joyce:_ I would like you to hear what he says of you, Mr. Halvey. Pitch and toss, he says.
_Sergeant:_ He has had a bad name long enough. Let him go to a reformatory now.
_Fardy:_ (_Clinging to Hyacinth._) Save me, save me! I'm a poor boy trying to knock out a way of living; I'll be destroyed if I go to a reformatory. (_Kneels and clings to Hyacinth's knees._)