Berry Scene (35 page)

Half an hour later, perhaps—

“Was it very unpleasant?” said Daphne. “You look so tired.”

“Not too bad,” said her husband. “I had to put Baal in his place.”

“I suppose half Bluecoat was there.”

“They were bound to come,” said Berry. “They couldn’t let the side down.”

“And Vision?”

“A very ordinary bloke. May or may not be guilty. We’ll have to see what he says.”

“Oh, you’re no good,” said Daphne. “I’ll have to talk to Boy. Wait a minute. Look in my eyes.” And then she was down on her knees, with her cheek against his. “My blessed darling, why will you take things so hard?”

“Because I’m a fool,” said Berry. “Motley’s my wear. I can strut in the counsellor’s gown: but the executioner’s tunic chafes me under the ribs.”

The next day the London papers were full of ‘The Vision Case’. The headlines were naturally arresting – EARL’S BROTHER CHARGED…DUEL BETWEEN CHAIRMAN AND SOLICITOR… SHARP PASSAGES IN COURT. Reporters arrived at White Ladies before midday. I gave them a photograph of Berry – I thought it best. We were drinking beer in the hall, when Berry appeared.

“Ah,” he said, “a party,” and poured some beer. “Here’s to Contempt of Court.” There was a roar of laughter. “And if you say I said that, the Vision case will be heard
in camera
.”

“Won’t you give us something, sir?”

“Have a heart,” said Berry. “How can I? I know it’d be a scoop, but what about me? I don’t want to be impeached, or what ever the procedure is.”

“Just something, sir.”

“I will, on one condition – that you don’t say you got it from me.”

“That’s all right, sir.”

“I mean that.”

“We’ll promise.”

“That’s good enough.”

For a quarter of an hour he spoke of Riding Hood – of Justices he could remember, of famous counsel defending the motorcar, of how a Lord Chancellor had been summoned and had appeared by counsel and paid his fine.

“Who was that, sir?”

“No, you don’t,” said Berry. “I don’t want to lose my job. But he was very angry – I’ll give you that. ‘Biting the hand that fed us,’ was what he said. So in fear and trembling we fined him thirty shillings… As you may believe, the case was not reported.”

And then, at last, Wednesday came.

If the court had been full before, that day it was crammed. But for Evesham, I should not have reached my seat. Mr Romeo, of Counsel, was sitting with Baal: small and dark, be looked extremely efficient. The police were represented by Arthur Leech, a very pleasant solicitor, not up to Romeo’s weight. The Bluecoat contingent was stronger – I counted ten. They were making a lot of noise, when Romeo shot them a glance and whispered to Baal. Baal got up and went over to where they sat. And then they quietened down. The Press was present in force – I recognized three reporters, and they saw me.

The Magistrates took their seats and Vision appeared. Romeo’s demeanour left nothing to be desired. The man knew how to behave. But I was pretty sure that be had a whip in his boot.

He had – and he hit Gorse hard. But Gorse was hardly fair game. And he could do nothing with Fawcett, try as he would.

“‘Drunk’ is a loose expression?”

“‘Drunk’ is a wide expression, loosely used.”

“D’you ever use it loosely?”

“Off the record – yes.”

And later on—

“You’re an experienced doctor. Have you ever known a case in which a man appeared to be drunk, but was really ill?”

“I have known three such cases.”

“In which a mistake was made?”

“Yes.”

“Excusably?”

“Yes. In every case the man appeared to be drunk.”

“But he wasn’t?”

“No. He was very seriously ill. Two of them died, and the third was discharged from hospital after six months.”

Shock went the same way. Nothing could shake Fawcett. Vision was drunk.

Finally—

“You are determined, doctor, to send this young man down?”

Berry leaned forward.

“Please reconsider that question, Mr Romeo.”

“As you please, sir,” said Counsel, and took his seat.

Then the accused was called, and put up a dreadful show. He made extravagant statements, none of which, I feel sure, appeared in his proof. Even I could have torn him in pieces. Leech was more lenient; but he tied him up more than once. His manner was atrocious.

Whilst he was being cross-examined, he went too far.

“Do you usually ‘blind’ by night along roads that you do not know?”

“Of course I don’t. I’m not such a — fool.”

Berry looked up.

“You will immediately withdraw that epithet and apologize to the Court for using it.”

For a moment there was dead silence.

Then Baal left his seat, to approach the witness-box.

“Leave him alone, Mr Baal.”

There was another silence.

Then—

“I beg your pardon,” said Vision, sullenly.

“Go on, Mr Leech.”

When he had returned to the dock, Romeo rose.

“I have four more witnesses, sir, and it is half-past five.”

“Then we’d better adjourn,” said Berry. “If tomorrow will be convenient, the Bench is prepared to sit at eleven o’clock.”

Romeo consulted with Baal.

Then—

“Thank you, sir. That will suit us very well.”

“And you, Mr Leech?”

“It’s all right for me, sir, thank you.”

“Very well. The accused is remanded till tomorrow at eleven o’clock.”

We were on our way back.

“I’m sorry for Romeo,” said Berry. “You couldn’t see his face, when Vision was in the box.’

“I can imagine it,” said I.

Berry expired.

“The whole thing’s so damned unpleasant. Every soul in that court knows that Vision has done the things he is said to have done. And there he is, a gentleman born, telling lie after lie upon oath and flaunting his contempt and resentment of a system which has presumed to embarrass his way of life. And now say your piece about not prejudging the case.”

“I can’t,” I said. “Not after Fawcett and Vision. The words won’t come.”

“Is it possible,” said Berry, “that Romeo will persuade him to withdraw his plea of ‘Not guilty’ and plead, instead?”

“If I know anything of Counsel, he’ll have a damned good try.”

“Let’s hope to God he succeeds. I should feel so much better about it – everyone would. It would be a redeeming feature, and that is what this case needs – and has not got.”

But Vision must have hardened his heart, for when the morrow came, the case went on.

The witnesses from Bluecoat were called. They spoke to the quality and quantity of the liquor which Vision had consumed. They swore that he was not drunk when he left the house. Under cross-examination, one of them went to bits and made an awkward admission, which plainly shook Romeo up.

Still, he made an excellent speech. Few men could have made such bricks without any straw. It might have shaken a jury, drawn from the countryside. But Berry, Lefevre and Lawson were not jurymen.

“Before I sit down, I should like to thank the Bench for the latitude I have been given, for the patience and courtesy shown me from first to last. You will please believe, sir, that I am very grateful.”

“As a man sows, Mr Romeo, so shall be reap.”

Counsel smiled and bowed, and the Magistrates retired.

No one in court, I think, can have had any doubt that on two, at least, of the charges they would convict the accused. The only question was, would they be content with a fine? Reviewing the circumstances of the case, I could not believe that they would. Vision had no excuse. No harm had been done, of course: but that was not Vision’s fault. And the public had to be protected against such selfishness. The way to protect it was to show prospective transgressors how hard might be their way. For Lefevre, I could not answer: Lawson believed in discipline – that I knew: Berry was very human – his bark was worse than his bite.

Five and twenty minutes went by, before they returned.

Then the accused was brought in, and Berry looked round.

“The accused,” he said, “stands charged with three offences, far the most serious of which is that of being drunk while in charge of a car. It is to that charge that most of my observations will relate.

“It is the bounden duty of every Judge, Juryman or Magistrate to weigh the evidence given before him on oath. If the testimony of each of the witnesses in this case is separately weighed, no man of average intelligence can deny that the evidence of Dr Fawcett is very much more weighty than that of anyone else. In the first place, he is the only completely independent witness that has been called. He is not the Police Surgeon, and, until that unhappy evening, he had never so much as set eyes upon the accused, So far, therefore, as Dr Fawcett is concerned, there can be no question of bias, for or against. In the second place, he is a General Practitioner of fifteen years’ standing, has been House Surgeon at St Bartholomew’s and served with a combatant unit throughout the War. With such a record, he is far better qualified to decide whether or no a man is drunk than is any other of the witnesses that have been called before us. In the third place, according to the evidence of the constable, which has not been disputed, Dr Fawcett arrived upon the scene little more than one minute after the accident had occurred. And so, in his person, we have the only independent witness, the best qualified witness, and a witness who was, to all intents and purposes, on the spot. Now, for his evidence. He was about a mile from Curlew Corner, when he was met and passed by the accused’s car. So high was its speed and so erratic was its course that, although he was on his way home, he turned his car round and followed, in case his services should be needed, when the accident, which he felt to be inevitable, had taken place. He arrived, to find the accused out in the road. He immediately examined him, and this is his report. ‘He was unhurt: he was not suffering from shock: he was drunk.’ Counsel, in the execution of his duty, did his best to shake those conclusions. In the opinion of the Bench, he failed. Pressed in cross-examination, the doctor used these words. ‘In my time I have seen a great many intoxicated men. They may be divided into three classes – those who are under the influence of drink, those who are drunk, and those who are dead drunk. When I saw the accused, he belonged to the second class.’ And a little later, in re-examination, ‘He might have been suffering from shock, had he not been drunk. But he was not in a condition to appreciate how narrow had been his escape.’ So much for Dr Fawcett. The constable, whose evidence is less weighty, bears out what the doctor says. Four witnesses have come from Bluecoat, and each of them has sworn that, when the accused left the house, he could not be said to be under the influence of drink. But from the cross-examination of one of them, a significant fact emerged. And that was that, as soon as it was realized that the accused had left the mansion, two cars were at once turned out to find out which way he had taken and follow him up. The witness in question declared that this action was not inspired by apprehension; but we cannot ignore the strong resemblance it bears to that which the doctor took. Finally, there is the evidence of the accused. He has sworn that he was perfectly sober, that the constable was on his wrong side and that it was in an endeavour to avoid the latter that he took his car into the wall. Upon that statement, he was asked two questions. The first was, ‘How did you see the constable, if he was on his wrong side?’ The accused replied, ‘I saw the glow of his bicycle lamp.’ The second was, ‘In that case how do you account for the bicycle’s being found beneath the car?’ To this the accused made no answer. For this and other reasons, the Bench is quite unable to accept his evidence.

“The charge of obstructing the police will be dismissed. On each of the other charges, the Bench has decided to convict. On the charge of driving to the common danger, the accused will be fined twenty pounds, and his licence will be suspended for a period of six months. I cannot pretend to minimize the gravity of the third charge. For a man to be drunk while in charge of an automobile is always serious. One can well conceive such a case in which there are, what are called, mitigating circumstances. Take that of a man who drives a lorry for his living, and has been on the road all night, in winter weather. His conduct cannot be defended, if he succumbs. He is putting in peril life and limb. But we should not be human, if we did not remember that he has been bred in a rough school, that his life is a hard life, that weariness, strain and cold have called for more resistance than he is able to show. In the present case, there are no mitigating circumstances. The accused is a man of education, of no occupation, and he was doing no duty when the accident occurred. We do not attach more than due importance to the fact that, but for his presence of mind, the constable must have been killed: we regard it, rather, as a vivid illustration of the havoc which may be caused by a powerful car in the hands of a man who is drunk.

“The Bench has considered very carefully what punishment it is its duty to inflict upon this charge. And it has come, with reluctance, to the conclusion that no fine will meet the case. The accused and all who read the reports of this widely reported case must be shown that such wanton misconduct does not pay; that a law which was made to protect His Majesty’s subjects cannot be set at nought; that no man’s self-indulgence can be allowed to imperil with comparative impunity the well-being of his fellow men.”

Berry surveyed Vision.

“Upon the remaining charge, the sentence of the Court is that you be imprisoned for six weeks with hard labour.”

Amid the buzz of excitement, Counsel got to his feet.

“I beg to give notice of Appeal, sir, to the Quarter Sessions.”

Berry smiled and nodded, and the prisoner was taken away.

Then the Justices rose. They acknowledged the bows of Counsel and the solicitor for the police. The next moment they had withdrawn.

“Was it all right?” said Berry.

“Terribly good,” said I, and so it was.

“I don’t know about that; but I do think justice has been done. If the Sessions vary the sentence, I shall retire.”