The office of Voysey and Son is in the best part of Lincoln's Inn. Its paneled rooms give out a sense of grandmotherly comfort and security, very grateful at first to the hesitating investor . . .

-- From "The Voysey Inheritance," a play by Harley Granville-Barker, 1914.

No one reading this newspaper has to be told there is nothing new under the sun, especially in the world's other oldest profession -- separating people from their money.

Déjà vu of a specific criminal sort overwhelmed me Friday morning in the first sentence of the Journal's story about the talented Mr. Madoff. It said the esteemed investor was arrested "after his sons turned him in for running what they said their father called 'a giant Ponzi scheme.'"

Even at $50 billion, Ponzi schemes are a dime a dozen. A friend says he knew a fellow who specialized in sniffing out Ponzi schemes, so he could be the first one into the pot and then the first to ask for his winnings before the posse arrived.

I blinked, though, at seeing that Madoff's own sons turned him in. Early last year I sat in the off-Broadway Atlantic Theater in lower Manhattan and watched that same story unfold in "The Voysey Inheritance," a 1914 British play by Harley Granville-Barker as adapted by David Mamet, who with actor William H. Macy founded the Atlantic. It figures. David Mamet and Tom Wolfe are about the only serious writers in our time who see literature in the mechanics of money.

Wonder Land columnist Daniel Henninger explores the con man's dramatic pedigree.

Mr. Voysey is an investment adviser in Edwardian England. He invests money for wealthy Londoners but also for the vicar of his church. His partner in the business is his son, Edward, an innocent who discovers in the ledgers that his father is a crook.

The scene in which Edward confronts his father over a life fleecing friends and clients is compelling, a torrent of talk about investment vehicles, mortgages, bonds, wealth, moral dilemmas, trust, friendship and principle.

This performance was in January 2007, at the height of Wall Street's grandest days. I thought that in a moderately better world every investment banker, hedge-fund guy and Hamptons aspirant would see "The Voysey Inheritance." Its message: Gentlemen, please get a grip.

The fascinating thing about the Madoff affair is no one's talking. How come? From Palm Beach to Geneva, Madrid, Greenwich and the Hollywood hills, nary a peep of reflection or insight. What were they thinking?

Conversations have occurred between sons Mark and Andrew and their father Bernard. What was said?

"Voysey" offers an answer.

Edward to his father: "There are no funds in these accounts. In the accounts we manage. How long has it been going on?"

Mr. Voysey: "I'm sorry to involve you in it."

Edward: "Involve me? I'm your partner. You, we have defrauded everyone who has trusted us . . . D'you mean to tell me that this sort of thing has been going on for years? For more than thirty years!"

Mr. Voysey: "We do what we must in this world, Edward. I have done what I had to do."

There are two versions of "The Voysey Inheritance" available -- Mr. Mamet's adaptation from Vintage and Harley Granville-Baker's longer original scanned into Google Books. Both are transfixing reads against the unfolding backdrop of the incredible Madoff revelations.

There is this obvious question: Across all the years of wondrous returns from this Wizard of Oz, didn't a small cloud of question pass through the mind of, say Jeffrey Katzenberg or Steven Spielberg or Carl Shapiro to ask, How is he doing this?

One answer emerges from the Voysey drama when Edward tells wealthy family friend George Booth and Vicar Colpus that he plans to admit the fraud and face justice (Mr. Voysey having conveniently died). They try to talk him out of it. They want Edward to continue the scheme. For them, at least, the scheme seems to work. They want to believe it can still work. Edward demurs, and they are outraged that he will not continue business as usual.

Booth: "Your father would never have acted in this way."

Edward: "My father was a thief. . . ."

Booth: "Edward? I've offered you salvation. Salvation!"

Edward: "I thought we were talking about money."

A big lesson of the past year is that we all should be talking more about money. One reason we don't talk about money is we are afraid of what we might learn. Mr. Madoff's contented investors are hardly different from the apparently uncountable number of people who put down 5% for a large mortgage without wondering, How does this work?

It's so nice Congress and Sheila Bair want to bail out these poor souls who knew so little about borrowing. Bernard Madoff's victims will get no such succor, even the most deserving.

Though living in an era of fantastic money tales, it is remarkable how little serious literature is written about money in business or money in politics. In fiction or drama characters can be made to say truths real people would never tell a journalist.

"The Voysey Inheritance" should be on Broadway or on television. Why? To learn a few things about money that we manifestly do not wish to know. Edward: "It's strange the number of people who believe you can do right by means which they know to be wrong."

Write to henninger@wsj.com

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