Berry Scene (34 page)

“‘That’s right,’ said the King. ‘High Treason. You’d better make out a warrant and serve it yourself.’

“‘That,’ said the Comptroller, ‘is the Chancellor’s job.’

“The Chancellor swallowed.

“‘We don’t want to be precipitate,’ he said.

“‘I do,’ said the King. ‘Very precipitate.’

“‘And what price your beans?’ said the Chancellor. ‘Besides, she’s well preserved.’

“‘Well preserved!’ said a voice.

“The King looked round.

“‘Was that an echo?’ he said.

“‘I don’t think so,’ said the Master of the Horse. ‘I mean…’

“The King’s eyes followed his gaze. Where the Chancellor had been sitting, was standing a jug of milk.

“The King thought very fast.

“Then—

“‘Serve him right,’ he said. ‘Talking like that about a beautiful girl. Why, if I were twenty years younger…’

“‘Are you sure you’re not?’ said the voice. ‘I mean, I’ve heard it said that a man is as young as he feels.’

“The King clapped his hands to his stomach.

“Then a seraphic smile illumined his face.

“‘She’s done it,’ he cried. ‘She’s spilled them. My beans are gone.’

“‘Not gone,’ said the voice. ‘They’re in that chest over there. You’ve only to say the word, and I’ll put them back.’

“There was a pregnant silence.

“Then the King walked to the chest and lifted its lid…

“His physicians said it was cardiac failure. In any event, his funeral was very grand. The Master of the Horse was not present. He was sharing a very small hutch with two other toads. You see, he had exceeded his instructions. His aunt had told him to put a quart of beans in the chest. As she reminded him
ad nauseam
, she had said nothing about giant marrows.”

The deserved applause subsided.

“And the moral?” said Lady Plague.

“I wouldn’t know,” said Berry. “But the title is obvious.”

“Not to me,” said Forsyth.

“
Psychology Reinforced
.”

In Which Berry Dispenses Justice,

and I Attend Fallow Hill Fair

Only ten days had gone by, when out of a drunken frolic arose ‘The Vision Case’. Millions of readers devoured the full reports: a certain firm of solicitors must have done very well: but for Berry, as Chairman of the Justices before whom Vision appeared, the episode was most trying from first to last.

For some years now, Berry had, so to speak, carried the Riding Hood Bench. He was scrupulous, level-headed, kindly and very shrewd. No doubt he made mistakes. The fact remains that his colleagues depended upon him and looked to him for guidance more than they should have done. Be sure they backed him. But the weight of the business was always upon his shoulders, and ‘The Vision Case’ was a burden he would have been glad to share. The Clerk was a sound lawyer, but that was all: he looked to Berry, just as the others did.

It had been a full day, for we had been to Bay Morreys and had visited Leveret Lodge. We had enjoyed every minute; but such inspections are tiring, say what you will. The girls had retired, and Berry and I were about to follow them up at a quarter to twelve, when, as I got to my feet, the telephone went.

Berry picked up the receiver – calls were put through to the rooms, when the servants had gone to bed.

“Yes… Oh, that you, Superintendent? Good evening. No, I was just going up… Yes, Curlew Corner. I know where you mean… Yes… Yes… I see. No, no alternative, clearly… That’s up to you, Superintendent… Well, we shall see… At two o’clock tomorrow… No, that’s all right. Good night.”

Berry replaced the receiver, sat back and closed his eyes.

“And here’s trouble,” he said. “One of the Bluecoat school.”

The phrase must not be misinterpreted. It had nothing to do with Horsham or with that most honourable foundation which enriched the City of London till 1902. The pleasant manor of Bluecoat had changed hands more than once since Withyham’s day; and now it was owned by a man whose wife was not young, but immensely rich, whose record was not too good. The parties they threw were said to be very fierce: though the bright, young things that stayed there probably meant no harm, they certainly did no good: the place had become a byword for careless revelry.

Berry continued slowly.

“A smash at Curlew Corner. I’m not surprised. In a way, it’s a dangerous place. Constable George was very nearly killed. In fact, there’s nobody hurt, but the driver, a lad called Vision, was palpably tight. Dr Fawcett was going that way and arrived on the scene. Vision was very violent and has been charged. His host is expected to come and bail him out.”

“Vision?” I said.

“That’s right. The Honourable Edward Vision. White’s wouldn’t have him about six months ago.”

“What a rotten show.”

Berry shrugged his shoulders.

“Let’s hope he pleads. But I have an uneasy feeling that one of that crowd will fight.”

“‘Double, double toil and trouble.’”

“Precisely. He’s money to burn, and the Press will eat it up. Of course he mayn’t have been tight. I mustn’t prejudge the case. But Fawcett says he was, and Fawcett’s no fool.”

At noon the next day we had a visitor. A Mr Baal arrived and sent in his card. This did not say that he was the junior partner of Messrs. Mosaic and Baal, Solicitors, of Furbelow Court, EC. He desired to see Major Pleydell – urgently.

“Act One, Scene Two,” said Berry. “All right. Show him in.”

Baal came in softly, after the way of a cat – a tall, sallow-faced fellow, with an eternal smile.

“Could I see you alone, Major Pleydell?”

“This is my cousin,” said Berry. “I have no secrets from him.”

Baal bowed and took his seat.

“I think I’m addressing the Chairman of the Riding Hood Bench.”

“Yes,” said Berry, “you are.”

“I have reason to believe that you’ll shortly make the acquaintance of a young friend of mine.”

“And who may that be?” said Berry.

“The Honourable Edward Vision.”

Berry raised his eyebrows.

“You say he is your young friend. Does he happen to be your client?”

“I have that honour, Major Pleydell.”

“I see. Now tell me this, Mr Baal. Had the accident which happened last night occurred in the Strand, would you have approached the Bow Street Magistrate at his private house?”

Baal’s smile looked a little forced.

“I – might have.”

“Allow me to correct you,” said Berry. “You would have done no such thing. I’ll tell you why, Mr Baal. Because you wouldn’t have dared.” As I touched the bell, the solicitor rose to his feet. “The court you will presently enter is little known. But its justices are not to be corrupted, or bluffed, or diverted in any way from the duty they seek to do. You will make what observations you please in open court. But please remember this – that to the Riding Hood Bench, there are no back-stairs.”

There Falcon opened the door, and Baal passed out.

With his eyes on the ceiling, Berry fingered his chin.

“There’s a poisonous blackguard,” he said. “And after that interview, I am expected to approach this blasted case with an open mind. I’d better speak to Evesham. Baal’s quite capable of trying to get at Gorse.”

One minute later, perhaps, the connection was made.

“Oh, is that you, Superintendent? Major Pleydell here. The Vision case. Mr Baal, of Mosaic and Baal, is appearing for the accused. I think he may try to see Gorse, but I don’t think he should… Did he, indeed? Well, just see he doesn’t, will you? And you might ring up the doctor. You never know.”

Berry replaced the receiver and looked at me.

“He’s tried already,” he said: “but Gorse was out.”

Scene Three was the little court I had come to know so well.

When I entered it, just before two, there was next to no room; but I found a place at the back, from which I could watch the proceedings unobserved.

Baal, with a clerk in attendance, was plainly pleased with life. For the moment he was the lion of ‘the Bluecoat school’. This was well represented – by Mr de Rasen, host, and seven guests. Four of the latter were girls. Had they been asked, they would have declared that they ‘took their fun where they found it’. And now they were ready and waiting and hoping to find it here. All eight were hanging upon the solicitor’s lips. But Riding Hood was his dunghill. Encountering him in Mayfair, they would cut him dead. Their conversation was sprightly and meant to be audible. A reporter, clearly excited, was alternately looking about him and taking notes. Superintendent Evesham was whispering with the Clerk, and Constable Bush was standing beside the door.

Old Gammon appeared on the Bench and leaned down to speak to the Clerk.

The latter lifted his voice and spoke to Baal.

“Are you ready, Mr Baal?”

“Ready for anything,” said Baal.

A burst of Bluecoat laughter acclaimed the
riposte
. Then Baal took his seat at the table between the Clerk and the dock, the door to the Bench was opened, and Berry appeared.

“Silence in Court,” cried Bush, and most of us rose.

“D’you mean we’ve got to stand up?” said a high-pitched voice.

“Silence,” snapped Bush, as John Lefevre and Colonel Lawson of Merry Down took their seats.

Shepherded by the jailer, the prisoner entered the court.

As he stepped into the dock, the Bluecoat contingent applauded violently.

When order had been restored, Berry looked round.

“One more demonstration like that, and the Court will be cleared.”

There was no mistaking his tone, and a pregnant silence succeeded the simple words.

The Clerk addressed the prisoner, reciting the three offences with which he was charged – that of driving to the common danger, that of being drunk while in charge of a car and that of obstructing the police.

Baal rose to his feet.

“I appear for the accused and I plead not guilty to all charges. I also ask for an adjournment, that counsel may be instructed on the accused’s behalf.”

Berry consulted his colleagues.

Then—

“Very well, Mr Baal. We will hear the constable’s evidence, and then a remand will be ordered for seven days.”

Vision might have been good-looking, if heavy drinking had not disfigured his face. His age, I believe, was given as thirty-two. His air was resentful and haughty. Who was be to stand in the dock? If these people knew how to behave, they would give him a seat on the Bench.

Constable Gorse was sworn.

“At ten-fifteen on the seventh of November, I was approaching Curlew Corner from the direction of Mockery Dale. When I was close to the corner, I heard a car—”

“Is all this necessary?” said Baal.

“Be good enough to rise,” said Berry, “when you address the Court.”

After a long look, the solicitor got to his feet.

“Yes?”

“I was venturing to inquire, when I was interrupted, whether it was necessary that the constable should give his evidence in full.”

“Before ordering a remand,” said Berry, “it is the practice of this Court to hear evidence of arrest. As the arrest was made by the present witness, it would be out of all order for him to select from his testimony such particulars as he may think proper to lay before the Court.” He turned to the witness. “Go on.”

Approaching Curlew Corner from the East, Gorse, who was on his bicycle, had heard a car coming up very fast from the North. Once it reached the corner, the car must turn East or West, for there was no road to the South. Gorse dismounted and stood waiting, as close to the wall as he could. He was on his left side. The car turned to the East, but was going too fast to take the right-angled turn. As he saw it coming, Gorse let his bicycle go and leaped for the top of the wall. The car struck the wall below him a glancing blow and, running over his bicycle, came to rest. The car had a left-hand drive: otherwise the driver must have been seriously hurt, for all the right side of the car was badly crushed. Gorse got down from the wall and the accused got out. He was alone in the car. He was using very bad language and staggered about the road. He was drunk. He refused to give his name and address. Here Dr Fawcett arrived. After some conversation, Gorse asked the doctor to drive them to Riding Hood. When the doctor assented, the accused became very violent and went for Gorse. Between them, the doctor and Gorse had got him into the car. At Riding Hood he had been charged…

Baal rose to his feet.

“Tell me this, Constable. If…”

“Mr Baal,” said Berry, “the Bench has no objection to your questioning the constable now. But if you do so, Counsel cannot question him on Wednesday next.”

“I’ve only one question to ask.”

“Either you cross-examine, or Counsel. It is for you to choose.”

Baal hesitated. His hands were working: I could not see his face.

Then—

“The Bench is determined to embarrass the defendant,” he said.

“As you and I know,” said Berry, “that observation is beneath contempt. The prisoner will be remanded for seven days.”

“On the same bail,” said Baal.

Berry looked at the Superintendent.

“Are you content with the bail?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The same bail,” said Berry. “Call the next case.”

I think Baal felt that something had to be done. Before the Bluecoat contingent, he had been put in his place. And that was not ‘according to plan’.

“I should like to enter a protest against the treatment I have been accorded today. I have been ordered about, interrupted and, finally, refused permission to question a witness for the Crown. I confess that my practice lies chiefly in the High Court, but on those occasions when I have appeared before Justices, I have always received the courtesy to which my profession is entitled.”

“Your statement,” said Berry, “that you have been refused permission to cross-examine is, to your knowledge, untrue. For the rest, you have received from the Bench a better treatment than your manner to the Bench has deserved.”

Here the next case was called, and Baal and the Bluecoat contingent made their way out of the court.

As we were driving home—

“Did I go too far?” said Berry.

“Certainly not,” said I. “The swine was out to smear you in front of ‘the Bluecoat school’. But Counsel will have more sense.”

“That’s right. Baal is out of his depth in open court. His field is behind the curtain. Nice show we shall have next Wednesday. Evesham will keep you a seat.”

“Will the police be represented?”

“I think they should be, and Evesham is going to apply. I mean, they’ll have to put Vision in the box. And they may call evidence.”

“To say he drank nothing but water all day long?”

“It’s a wicked world,” said Berry. “Did you see Fawcett at all?”

“I did,” I said. “Counsel may shake Gorse, but he won’t shake him. He followed the car, because he knew it would crash. And Vision couldn’t stand up.”

“Who’d be a Magistrate?” sighed Berry.

“You’ve been one now for more than twenty-five years.”

“I know. And I’m glad to be one, when I can do some good. But here I can do no good. Vision is a law to himself. And now he has fallen foul of a law that is greater than he. I represent that law and am, therefore, his deadly foe. Though I let him go with a caution, Vision would hate my guts. D’you remember Lewis, the poacher – that came to a sticky end? He was the same. He knew no law but that of his own desires. In cases like these, the Magistrate is simply a hangman. My God, what a farce it is. I’ve got to sit there on Wednesday and probably Thursday as well, listening to Counsel misrepresenting the facts and to men and women committing perjury. And against them are Fawcett, who’s nothing whatever to gain by telling the truth, and Vision’s face. And Baal. Does anyone go to Baal, if his hands are clean?”

“What you want,” said I, “is a drink. And you must keep an open mind.”

“I stand corrected,” said Berry. “But no man can have it both ways. To be any good at his job, a JP must be able to size up his fellow men – to tell a fool from a knave and a sheep from a goat, no matter what clothing they wear when they are in Court. Say that I have acquired that curious faculty. Well, you can’t turn it on and off, as you can the spigot that graces a barrel of beer. So how can I help being struck by the pageant this afternoon? Fawcett, grave and keen-faced, a dutiful, clean-living man. Vision, as wilful a drunkard as ever I saw. (I’m not throwing any rocks. But for the grace of God, there go you and I.) The Bluecoat contingent, an idle, worthless bunch, actually cheering their crony when he is degraded by stepping into the dock. And Baal, the embodiment of evil… Don’t be alarmed, gossip. If Fawcett goes back on his proof, the drunkard will leave the Court, an unconvicted man. The run he will have will be absolutely fair. But pity the poor JP, whose bogey is prejudice, who sees the truth sticking out, because he has eyes to see.”