Brief Tales From The Bench (10 page)

‘Mr Robinson,’ said Mr Elgar, ‘what you found on me only accounted for some of the missing articles?’

‘That is so,’ said Mr Robinson.

‘Did I have the chance of disposing of any memo pads or pencils before I was detained?’

‘I don’t think you had.’

‘So,’ said Mr Elgar, ‘if more pads and pencils were missing than were found on me, someone else must have taken them.’

‘That is so,’ said Mr Robinson, ‘we’ve been having rather a lot of thefts recently.’

‘So,’ I said, ‘I suppose you instructed your store detective and your assistants to keep a special look out?’

‘That is so, your honour.’

‘And, if one or more of your regular customers was a thief, he might possibly notice the extra vigilance?’

‘That’s possible, your honour.’

‘Well, isn’t it possible,’ I asked, ‘that, if a thief had taken several pads and several pencils and suddenly realised that he might be being watched, he’d want to unload some or all of them before he was stopped?’

‘That is possible,’ said Mr Robinson.

‘Well, one way of unloading was to put them into somebody else’s pocket, wasn’t it?’

‘That could be done,’ said Mr Robinson.

‘Was the store fairly crowded on the day in question?’

‘Yes, fairly crowded.’

‘Well, Mr Robinson,’ I said, ‘whatever the truth about Mr Elgar may be, there was a thief other than him around, wasn’t there?’

‘It looks like it,’ said Mr Robinson.

‘Well, if the thief took fright, he may have off-loaded two memo pads into Mr Elgar’s coat.’

‘It could be done,’ said Mr Robinson.

‘And who,’ I asked, ‘would be more skilful at doing that than a persistent thief?’

‘Oh, they’re not pickpockets, your honour,’ said Mr Robinson. ‘They’re shoplifters, which is rather different.’

‘There’s nothing to prevent a man carrying on both professions, is there?’ I asked.

‘I suppose not,’ said Mr Robinson.

‘When you saw Mr Elgar after he’d been detained,’ I asked, ‘he told you that the pencils were his, and that he’d bought them at another shop, and that he couldn’t account for the memo pads?’

‘That’s true.’

‘Well, if someone else had put the pads into his pocket, he wouldn’t have been able to account for them, would he?’

‘No, he wouldn’t.’

No further questions were asked of the manager, and Mr Benton for the defendants agreed that what Mr Elgar had said about the store detective was correct.

I was then addressed both by Mr Benton and by Mr Elgar and finally I gave judgment. Among other things I said this: ‘More memo pads were missing than were found on Mr Elgar. So presumably another person had taken some. Which is the more likely, I ask myself, that a man of unblemished reputation should steal a couple of pads, or that a frightened thief might slip them into Mr Elgar’s overcoat pocket? It’s to be noted that from the very start Mr Elgar said that he couldn’t account for the pads. Whatever the truth of the matter, it is not in my opinion more probable that Mr Elgar stole the pads. So on that aspect of the matter the defendants have not proved their case. As to the two pencils, Mr Elgar says that he bought them elsewhere. There’s some corroboration of that, though not very much, as I can’t place a great deal of reliance on Mrs Long’s evidence. But again, which is more probable? That Mr Elgar had stolen them or bought them a few days previously? Certainly not that he had stolen them. But Mr Benton says that, even if the probability was not proved in the case of each separate item, I must take the two together. Look at the coincidences, he says. Well, it is a coincidence, but coincidences do happen. And in my view in this case it’s a perfectly credible coincidence, and quite insufficient to prove the defendants’ case. In the result, as it is for the defendants to prove that the plaintiff was guilty to justify their dismissing him, and not for him to prove his innocence, I find in Mr Elgar’s favour; and hold that the defendants broke their contract when they dismissed him without notice.’

I accordingly gave judgment for the plaintiff for £50 damages and costs.

So in spite of the findings of two criminal courts that Mr Elgar’s guilt had been proved beyond all reasonable doubt, I found that it had not even been proved as a probability. Whether it’s desirable that a case should be re-tried in this way as a matter of course, I very much doubt. But there will always be the occasional case where it might be the only way to prevent injustice. We can’t always do justice, we can only do our best.

Oddly enough there was a further coincidence. After the case was over, I went home by train. And after I’d settled myself down I saw Mr Benton and Mr Elgar come in. They couldn’t see me, but I could hear them. Apparently they’d got on very well together during the case, and were on the best of terms. And this is what I heard: ‘I’m terribly interested in truth,’ said Mr Benton. ‘Now that it’s all over and you’ve won, it can’t hurt you to tell me the truth. I’ll keep it to myself entirely. I promise. Do tell me, did you take the things?’

‘What a ridiculous question,’ said Mr Elgar. ‘What should I want to take a couple of memo pads and pencils for?’

But I feel pretty confident of one thing. Mr Elgar won’t do it again.

The origin of this story, as I subsequently learned, was when Amy and Robert Hull got married. It was a perfect wedding. The sun shone, all their relations and friends were there, and nothing could have been happier for the young couple. As they drove away towards their honeymoon, they considered how lucky they were.

‘How sweet everybody’s been to us,’ said Amy, ‘how kind.’

‘How right you are,’ said Robert. ‘And that reminds me. What d’you think my uncle has given me? Five hundred premium bonds!’

‘Five hundred!’ said Amy. ‘Oh, he is good.’

‘And each one of those,’ said Robert, ‘might become five thousand pounds, that’s two and a half million. We’re rich.’

‘We’re rich anyway,’ said Amy. ‘We have each other.’

But although the marriage started so auspiciously, it didn’t go on like that for very long. Within six months Amy had gone to see a solicitor. He asked her what she wanted.

‘I want a divorce,’ said Amy.

‘Dear, dear,’ said the solicitor, ‘you’re very young.’

‘I’m old enough to have the vote,’ said Amy, ‘so I’m old enough to have a divorce. Anyway, I’m thirty.’

‘Are you really? And your husband?’

‘He’s ten years older.’

‘Have you been to the Marriage Guidance Council?’ asked the solicitor.

‘Look, Mr Gibson,’ said Amy, ‘if I go to a dairy I go for milk. If I go to a bootmaker I want shoes. And, if I go to a solicitor, I want a divorce, not a flipping Marriage Guidance Council.’

‘Be it so, Mrs Hull,’ said Mr Gibson, ‘but I think you’d better go to a different solicitor.’

‘Don’t you do divorces?’

‘Not yours, I’m afraid. Good morning.’

‘Look here,’ said Amy, ‘you gave me an appointment, and I want to tell you about my case.’

‘Your appointment is over, I’m afraid,’ said Mr Gibson. ‘There’ll be no charge.’

‘I thought solicitors had to take your case if it was respectable.’

‘Barristers, madam,’ said Mr Gibson, ‘not solicitors. We are allowed to pick and choose our clients. And you’ll forgive me, madam, for not choosing you.’

But Amy soon found another solicitor, and he was prepared to take her case. One of the frequent sources of trouble between husband and wife is money. A husband is too mean, or the wife too extravagant – or so each of them says. More than once in the course of their six months’ married life, Amy had suggested to Robert that he should sell the premium bonds.

‘We haven’t had a bean from them. We get no interest. Look at the things we could buy. I’m sure your uncle wanted to make us happy.’

‘He wanted to make me happy,’ said Robert. ‘He never thought much of you.’

‘All right,’ said Amy, ‘keep your blooming premium bonds. Dream about them. Make two and a half millions out of them. Put them under your pillow. They’ll be nearer to you than I shall be in the future.’

‘That’s the best thing I’ve heard in years,’ said Robert. When the break came, Robert was worried about the premium bonds. He had been told – quite rightly – that the Divorce Court goes into the financial side of the parties, both of whom have to declare exactly what they’ve got, and the amount the husband has to pay to the wife partly depends on what his assets are. As long as Robert had the premium bonds he would have to declare them as part of his assets. He could not bear the thought of Amy having any part of them, so there was only one thing to do, sell them and hide the money. But how? Selling them was easy, but how was he to hide the proceeds? He would be asked what he’d done with the money. How would he successfully pretend to have spent it, but keep it just the same?

That was the origin of the case which I had to try. The action was between Robert Hull and a man called Sandy Morton, and Robert sued to recover from him £500. Robert told me in evidence that he met Mr Morton in a public house, and that he confided to him his trouble about the difficulty of getting rid of the bonds without having to account for the proceeds.

‘If I say I’ve just lost the money, no one will believe me. As far as I can see, I might just as well keep the beastly bonds.’

‘I’ve got an idea,’ said Sandy. Robert asked what it was.

‘Well I have a share in a club, a gambling club.’

‘Well?’ asked Robert.

‘Suppose you join that club? I take it half a guinea a year won’t break you?’

Robert said he could manage that amount, and asked what happened when he joined.

‘Well,’ said Sandy, ‘when you’ve joined, you gamble.’

‘And where does that get me?’ asked Robert.

‘You gamble away all your five hundred pounds.’

‘D’you think I hadn’t thought of that?’ said Robert ‘But just to say you lost the money on a horse or the like is the oldest one in the world. If someone wants to account for the proceeds of a burglary, he says he won it on a horse. If he wants to account for not having money, he says he lost it on a horse. No one believes either of them.’

‘And quite rightly,’ said Sandy. ‘As you say, he didn’t win the money on a horse, it was the proceeds of a bank robbery. How can he prove he won it on a horse if he didn’t? He can’t. And the same applies to losing the money. Two or three pounds, yes. But five hundred? What’s the name of the horse or horses? What’s the name of the bookmaker? And so on and so forth. You’d soon be broken down over that.’

‘I thought that was your solution,’ said Robert.

‘You thought too soon,’ said Sandy. ‘Didn’t I tell you I was a partner in this club?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well then,’ said Sandy, ‘if you lose your money with us, you’ll be able to prove it. We’ll have chapter and verse for every penny. Now here’s an example. We play a game called whisky cribbage. Never mind how it’s played, but it needs a bank. Say you take the bank for £100, that’s written down in a book. And when that particular bank is finished, either because you’re cleaned out or you want to sell it, that’s written down too.’

Robert said that he was beginning to understand, and asked Sandy to go on.

‘When your case comes up,’ said Sandy, ‘you’ll say you gambled away the money with us, and our records will prove it. We’re very particular about records in our business. Just in case someone tries to pull a fast one. Everything is written down and signed for or initialled. No one can say he’s put £100 in the game if he’s initialled £50. No one can say he’s only been paid £50 if he’s signed for £100.’

‘So,’ said Robert, ‘you’ll be able to show in your records that I’ve lost £500?’

‘On balance,’ said Sandy. ‘You’ll win sometimes, or it would look funny. In fact you’ll win at first. Your £500 will swell to, say, £600.’

‘That’s a marvellous idea,’ said Robert. ‘When can we begin?’

‘Well,’ said Sandy, ‘I’ll introduce you to the club tonight and you’ll be a member in a couple of days. Then you must come to the club on the days we put down, so that the doorman and the barman and so on can identify you as having been a regular customer. You’d better have the odd genuine game or two as well so that people can see you playing.’

‘I don’t mind losing a few pounds,’ said Robert.

‘You might even win,’ said Sandy. ‘And then, when the club’s closed, we’ll make out your story. We’ll do it from day to day so that the ink will be all right, and the entries will be in the right place. And at the end of the month we’ll have proof positive that you’ve lost the whole of your £500.’

‘Well,’ said Robert, ‘I’m most grateful to you. But you must have something out of this.’

‘Of course,’ said Sandy, ‘we don’t do it for nothing. I’ll charge you ten per cent for the service.’

‘That’s £50?’ queried Robert.

‘D’you think that’s fair?’ asked Sandy.

‘Very fair,’ said Robert. ‘When do I pay you?’

‘You don’t,’ said Sandy. ‘We’ll take it out of the £500.’

‘£500?’ asked Robert.

‘Yes, of course; you must hand that to us. It’ll be quite safe in the bank.’

‘Is that necessary?’ asked Robert.

‘Of course it is,’ said Sandy. ‘Our cash has got to balance, hasn’t it? How can we say you’ve really lost your £500 unless it’s gone into our bank? Some of these lawyers are pretty good sleuths, and they’ll employ accountants. If you don’t pay the money over, they’ll go through all the accounts, and at the end they’ll say that you haven’t paid over one penny piece. “These are just book entries,” they’ll say.’

Robert said a little doubtfully that he understood.

‘But, if you’re worried about your money,’ went on Sandy, ‘I’ll show you our bank account. There’s plenty there, I assure you. We don’t want the £500.’

‘So,’ said Robert, ‘I hand you over £500, and when the case is over, you give me back £450?’

‘That’s it,’ said Sandy. ‘But if you don’t trust us–’

‘Well, I’ve only known you for a week or so,’ said Robert.

‘How true,’ said Sandy. ‘Forget the whole thing.’

‘I didn’t mean to be offensive, old man,’ said Robert.

‘Offensive?’ said Sandy, ‘Of course you’re not. I’d feel the same in your case. I wouldn’t want to hand over £500 to a comparative stranger without knowing a bit more about him.’

‘Well, it’s nice of you to put it that way,’ said Robert.

‘There’s no other way to put it. Have another drink.’

Robert went on to tell me that they had one or two drinks, and that then Sandy invited him to come down and see the club, and they went there that evening. At the club they had some more drinks, and eventually Sandy introduced Robert to his partner who was known as Mac. Sandy informed Mac of Robert’s problem, and it was not long before Robert changed his mind and decided to leave his £500 with Sandy and Mac.

Robert informed me that Mac seemed a very genuine person, and agreed to do the job for five per cent instead of ten per cent. Mac said that the work involved was trifling, and that £25 was quite enough.

So, according to Robert, they arranged for him to come to the club quite often. He said he deposited the whole of his £500 in cash with Sandy and Mac and after that he did exactly as he was told by them. By the time a month had gone by, there were in addition to the records of the club at least half a dozen witnesses who could testify to the losses made by Robert.

In due course Amy made her claim for alimony, and the solicitors on both sides went into the matter and prepared to fight about it. Robert supplied his solicitors with all the information to show that he’d lost the £500 gambling. And undoubtedly, if Amy’s claim for alimony had been heard, Robert would have had a very substantial body of evidence to show that he no longer had the money, and that he had in fact lost it gambling.

But before the application was heard, Amy had second thoughts. It was not long before overtures were made by her to Robert for a reconciliation. And eventually the parties came together again.

As soon as they were living together again, Robert told Amy that he thought it would be a good thing to sell the premium bonds after all, and she was delighted. He admitted to me that he didn’t tell her that he’d already sold them and hidden the money. All he had to do now was to collect the money from Sandy and Mac and try and make a more successful second start to his marriage.

So the day after the reconciliation Robert called on Sandy and Mac to get his money. And according to Robert, this is what happened: ‘Hello, Mr Hull,’ said Sandy, ‘haven’t seen you for a day or two.’

‘I’ve got some good news,’ said Robert, ‘my wife and I have made it up again. We’re living together.’

‘Now isn’t that fine?’ said Sandy. ‘This calls for a celebration. Let’s go and find Mac.’

So they found Mac and they went into his private room. Sandy told him what had happened.

‘Congratulations, Mr Hull,’ said Mac, ‘I’m delighted, I really am. There’s no better state than that of a happily married man. What’ll you have? This is on the house.’

‘That’s very good of you,’ said Robert. ‘I ought to be in the chair really.’

‘I wouldn’t hear of it,’ said Mac. ‘Tell the barman to open a bottle of champagne, Sandy. I can’t tell you how pleased I am. There are too many divorces in this country. The home is the backbone of England.’

Robert said that they then had some drinks and it was suggested that perhaps one day he’d like to bring Amy down to the club, unless she disapproved of gambling on principle.

‘I think she’d love it,’ said Robert. ‘I really am grateful to the two of you. I can’t think why you’re so good to me.’

‘Good to you,’ said Mac, ‘it’s nothing. You’re a good customer. We treat all our good customers the same.’

‘But I haven’t brought you in much,’ said Robert.

‘Not much? Did you hear him, Sandy? He says he hasn’t brought us in much.’

‘He’s a rich man maybe,’ said Sandy, ‘and it isn’t much to him.’

‘Well,’ said Robert, ‘the profit on the drinks I’ve had can’t be more than a few shillings. I’ve worked out about even on the genuine bets, so all you’ll have had will have been my £25.’

‘What’s that you said?’ said Sandy.

‘£25,’ repeated Robert.

‘£25! You must be dreaming. If you haven’t lost £500 in the last month, I’m a Dutchman.’

‘Was it as much as that?’ said Mac.

‘Not much less,’ said Sandy.

‘I must say you did it very well,’ said Robert.

‘Did what well?’ asked Mac.

‘Arranged for me to lose £500.’

‘Now you’re not saying it wasn’t on the level,’ said Mac.

‘Of course not. All the genuine bets were on the level.’

‘And what, pray, were the non-genuine bets?’

‘It’s all over, I tell you,’ said Robert. ‘I don’t need it any more. I’d like the £500 back, less of course your £25.’

‘You’d like it back?’ said Sandy.

‘Yes, please.’

‘The £500 you lost? You’d like it back?’

‘Of course.’

‘And where would we be,’ said Mac, ‘if we gave all our losers their money back?’

‘But I wasn’t a loser,’ said Robert. ‘Not a real one.’ Mac told Sandy to get the records.

‘Oh, I know I signed or initialled everything,’ said Robert, ‘but that was all part of the game.’

‘Game,’ repeated Sandy, ‘what game?’

‘What game?’ said Mac.

‘Look, friends,’ said Robert, ‘it’s been a good joke while it lasted, but it’s over now, and I’d like my money back.’