Brief Tales From The Bench (6 page)

‘What other things?’ said Mr Faulkner.

‘All sorts. Stands to reason. If you can pick up a dog, you can pick up a lot of other things.’

‘Such as a watch?’ I asked.

‘You’ve got it, my lord,’ said Mr Briggs.

‘So what did you do?’ asked Mr Faulkner.

‘After this bloke had gone, I told Mr Carr I might be able to oblige him.’

‘And then?’

‘I went to the club. There’s all sorts there.’

‘And what happened when you went to the club?’

‘I found a man with a gold watch, and I bought it for two nicker. Then I sold it to Mr Carr for three.’

‘Thank you,’ said Mr Faulkner, and sat down.

Mr Briggs was then cross-examined by Mr Morris’ counsel, whose name was Meldrum.

‘Mr Briggs, have you told his honour the truth?’ was his first question.

‘Near enough.’

‘How d’you mean, near enough?’

‘What I say, near enough.’

‘Most of what you say has been lies, hasn’t it?’

‘Me tell lies?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Wouldn’t do such a thing.’

‘Have you never told a lie?’

‘Only to the missus,’ said Mr Briggs. ‘But we all do that, don’t we, my lord?’

‘Go on, please, Mr Meldrum,’ I said.

‘I suggest that your story is a lie from beginning to end,’ said Mr Meldrum. ‘You never heard my client ask to buy a watch which didn’t go. You never bought a watch in your club. You never sold it to Mr Carr. And Mr Carr never sold it to Mr Morris.’

‘I never said he did,’ said Mr Briggs.

‘I thought the whole case was,’ said Mr Meldrum, ‘that Mr Carr sold this watch to Mr Morris.’

‘So it is,’ said Mr Faulkner, ‘but Mr Briggs didn’t see that part of the transaction.’

‘I see,’ said Mr Meldrum. ‘Very well then, Mr Briggs, you only heard Mr Morris ask to buy it. You never saw him get it from Mr Carr?’

‘That’s right.’

‘But, when you heard the conversation in which Mr Morris said he wanted a watch which didn’t go, you thought there might have been a bit of business in it for you?’

‘That’s right.’

‘So off you go to the club, and lo and behold! there’s a man with a gold watch ready to sell it to you for two pounds.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Was it by chance a watch which didn’t go?’

‘Not when I bought it,’ said Mr Briggs, ‘but I put that right before I sold it to Mr Carr.’

‘A bit of luck for you that on the very day you want a watch, you find one,’ said Mr Meldrum.

‘That’s life,’ said Mr Briggs.

‘What was the name of the man who sold you the watch?’

‘Can’t remember.’

‘Did you ever know it?’

‘Can’t say that I did.’

‘Had you ever seen him before?’

‘Can’t say that I had?’

‘Have you ever seen him since?’

‘Can’t say that I have.’

‘Would you recognise him again?’

‘I might. And then again I might not.’

‘You wouldn’t happen to know his address?’

‘He didn’t say.’

‘Did you ask him?’

‘Why should I? He said to me “D’you know anyone who wants a gold watch?” and I said–’

‘You mean,’ interrupted Mr Meldrum, ‘that a strange man came up to you in the club and asked you if you wanted to buy a gold watch on the very day you’d gone there to buy one?’

‘That’s right,’ said Mr Briggs, ‘a bit of luck, wasn’t it?’

‘Isn’t it the most astonishing bit of luck that’s ever happened to you?’ asked Mr Meldrum.

‘Look, mate, I only made one nicker out of it.’

‘You mustn’t call counsel “mate”,’ I said.

‘Sorry, guv, no offence.’

‘Call him Mr Meldrum,’ I said.

‘That’s his name, is it?’

‘Yes, of course,’ I said.

‘Mr Meldrum. Funny, that. My missus’ name was Meldrum.’

‘Before you married her, I suppose?’ asked Mr Faulkner.

‘No, after.’

‘After?’

‘Yes, she went off with someone else.’

‘Do let’s get on, Mr Meldrum,’ I said.

‘Now, Mr Briggs,’ Mr Meldrum went on, ‘let’s get this quite clear. Your story is that, having heard my client say he wants to buy a watch that won’t go, you go to your club, and a man you don’t know, and whom you’ve never seen before or since, walks up to you, and without a word spoken by you, asks if you want to buy a gold watch. All that’s true, is it?’

‘That’s for ’im to say,’ said Mr Briggs, nodding at me.

‘No, Mr Briggs,’ I said, ‘at the moment it’s for you to say. Do you say it’s true?’

‘Oh, I say it’s true, of course,’ said Mr Briggs.

‘There’s no “of course” about it,’ said Mr Meldrum. ‘If it isn’t true, you should say so.’

‘What,’ said Mr Briggs, ‘and be called a liar by both of you?’

‘Mr Briggs,’ I said, ‘this is a much more serious matter than you appear to realise. Sometimes the truth has a nasty way of coming out. Either you or Mr Morris is committing perjury, and one of you ought to be prosecuted for perjury.’

‘Ah, but which, my lord?’ asked Mr Briggs, ‘that’s the question, ain’t it?’

‘This is not a laughing matter, Mr Briggs,’ I said, ‘as you may very well find out if it transpires that it’s you who are telling lies.’

‘What should I want to tell lies for?’ asked Mr Briggs.

‘Perhaps I can answer for you, Mr Briggs,’ said Mr Meldrum. ‘Would you tell a lie for £50?’

‘Less than that,’ conceded Mr Briggs.

‘So you admit you’d commit perjury for money?’

‘Oh no,’ said Mr Briggs, ‘not perjury. You said would I tell a lie for £50. Well I’ve often told them for nothing. But not ’ere, not in court, that’s different. May my grandmother’s soul rot in hell if I tell a lie ’ere.’

‘Mr Morris put it a little less dramatically,’ I said. ‘He said, “if I never speak another word, what I now say is true.” Which of you am I to believe?’

‘Ah,’ said Mr Briggs, ‘that’s what you’re there for, my lord.’

‘Mr Faulkner and Mr Meldrum,’ I said, addressing counsel, ‘what might have been what Mr Carr called a petty squabble has turned out to be something much more serious. I want to assure both of your clients that I shall not hesitate to send the papers to the Director of Public Prosecutions if I think perjury can be proved against one of them.’

And I meant it. Either the plaintiff had invented the watch in order to get more damages from the defendant, or the defendant had persuaded these two witnesses, Briggs and Carr, to tell lies to discredit the plaintiff. Both alternatives were most unlikely. Yet one of them in the end must turn out to be a fact. But which? After Briggs had finished his evidence, I recalled Mr Carr to the witness box.

‘I’m sorry to trouble you, Mr Carr,’ I said, ‘but there’s a question I’d like to ask you. You’ve come here to give evidence because the defendant, Mr Riley, asked you to?’

‘I wouldn’t have come if I hadn’t had a summons,’ said Mr Carr.

‘Quite so,’ I said. ‘But what I want to know is how Mr Riley knew you could give this evidence. Has either counsel any objection to my asking this question?’ I asked.

Both counsel agreed.

‘Then tell me, Mr Carr,’ I said, ‘why did Mr Riley think you could help him about the case?’

‘Because I told him,’ said Mr Carr.

‘Told him what?’

‘About the watch.’

‘When?’

‘Yesterday.’

‘Yesterday!’ I said.

‘Yes, your honour.’

‘Where?’

‘In the street.’

‘D’you know Mr Riley then?’

‘By sight. He comes to my pub sometimes.’

‘Go on, Mr Carr,’ I said, ‘what happened?’

‘Well, I saw him in the street and we stopped to have a chat.’

‘How did the watch come up?’ I asked.

‘He’s a customer, and you want to be pleasant to them. I didn’t really want to stop. I had to think of something to say. Then I thought about the watch. So I told him.’

‘What did you tell him?’

‘That a man told me he wanted to buy a watch which didn’t go.’

‘What did he say?’

‘At first he didn’t take much notice. Then he became interested and asked if I knew the man’s name. I said it was Morris. Then he became very interested indeed.’

‘And that’s how you came into it?’ I asked.

‘Yes, your honour,’ said Mr Carr, ‘and I wish I’d kept my ruddy mouth shut.’

Mr Carr was then cross-examined by Mr Meldrum, who asked him as his first question: ‘Mr Carr, are you telling his honour that by pure chance Mr Riley learned of your story about the watch yesterday?’

‘I am.’

‘Had Mr Riley told you that he was being sued by Mr Morris?’

‘Not till after I’d told him about the watch.’

‘You’ve been in court while all the evidence has been given in this case.’

‘Yes, worse luck,’ said Mr Carr.

‘How many coincidences were there if your story is true?’

‘I haven’t counted.’

‘But a lot?’

‘It seems so.’

‘And none the less you say you’re telling the truth?’ said Mr Meldrum.

‘I wish I hadn’t,’ said Mr Carr.

‘How d’you mean?’

‘I wish I’d never said a word about it, then I shouldn’t be here.’

‘I suggest,’ said Mr Meldrum, ‘that you’re simply pretending not to want to be here, and that you conspired with Mr Riley and Mr Briggs to try to discredit my client.’

‘Why should I?’ said Mr Carr. ‘They’re both customers, I don’t care who wins.’

‘I suggest to you,’ said Mr Meldrum, ‘that Mr Riley is a friend of yours, that he must have told you he had a claim for assault against him, which he was bound to lose, and that he wanted to find some easy way of reducing the damage.’

‘You can suggest what you like,’ said Mr Carr.

‘Isn’t Mr Riley a friend of yours?’ asked Mr Meldrum.

‘He’s a customer.’

‘Some of your customers are friends as well, aren’t they?’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Mr Carr, ‘but Mr Riley isn’t particularly.’

‘Particularly?’ queried Mr Meldrum. ‘What does that mean?’

‘He’s no more a friend than Mr Morris.’

That was all Mr Faulkner wished to ask, and then I recalled Mr Morris back into the witness box. I reminded him that he was still on oath. ‘How long d’you say you’ve had this watch?’ I asked.

‘Some years, your honour.’

‘Did you buy it, or was it a present?’

‘My wife gave it to me.’

‘Where did she buy it?’

‘In Harrogate.’

‘Would she know the place where she bought it?’

‘I expect so, your honour.’

‘Have you had it repaired since she gave it to you?’

‘Yes, your honour.’

‘Where?’

‘In London.’

‘D’you know the name and address of the jeweller?’

‘I could find it again, your honour.’

‘Well, Mr Faulkner and Mr Meldrum,’ I said, again addressing counsel, ‘hadn’t this case better be adjourned for enquiries to be made from both jewellers? Are you agreeable?’

Both counsel agreed. And the case was adjourned for one of them to call the jeweller or jewellers. I made the suggestion because it seemed to me that this would be a way of proving the case conclusively in favour of Mr Morris, or against him. But, of course, both jewellers might have gone out of business, or they might have lost their records. Or they mightn’t have kept sufficient records. If that turned out to be the case, what would my decision be? I asked myself. It was most unlikely that the plaintiff would invent the destruction of a watch. He’d behaved very well about his own driving, admitting quite frankly that he was at fault. On the other hand, although the defendant must have been a bad-tempered man, it was equally unlikely that for the sake of reducing the damages, he would take part in what was a conspiracy to defeat the ends of justice. That is what it would have come to. He would have had to be in league with the landlord and the log and dog man. Yet, if this were not the case, there must have been a very odd series of coincidences. Had the log and dog man really met a man who volunteered that he had a gold watch for sale just at the moment when the log and dog man was looking for one? I was concerned, not simply for my own decision, but because this was surely a case where a prosecution for perjury ought to take place if one could be sure who the guilty party was.

Well, the day for the adjourned hearing arrived, and my clerk, Mr Simpson, came in to see me.

‘Well, Mr Simpson,’ I said, ‘what’s your bet?’

‘I know the answer, your honour,’ he said, ‘so I can’t bet.’

‘You know the answer?’ I said. ‘You should be a judge then instead of me, because I don’t.’

‘I don’t mean that, your honour,’ said Mr Simpson. ‘They’ve settled it.’

‘They’ve settled it, have they,’ I said. ‘That means that one side has given in for fear of a prosecution for perjury. Well, I’m not going to allow that. Ask the local police inspector to come and see me. But first of all, who gave in?’

The clerk told me, and in consequence of that, a visit was paid by Inspector Hughes, not long after, to one of the parties.

From what I subsequently learned, I imagine the conversation between them went something like this. The Inspector introduced himself and asked if he could see Mr George Morris.

‘That’s me,’ said Mr Morris.

‘May I come in?’ said the Inspector.

Mr Morris invited him in and he sat down.

‘Now, Mr Morris,’ said the Inspector, ‘I’m making enquiries about a claim you brought against Mr Riley for assault.’

‘We settled it.’

‘Yes, I know. On the terms that you withdrew the action and paid the defendant’s costs. That’s right, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ said Mr Morris, ‘that’s true.’

‘But he struck you in the face.’

‘Don’t I know it,’ said Mr Morris.

‘And you were bound to get damages for that assault, weren’t you?’

‘I certainly should have.’

‘Then why did you withdraw the case? For that’s what your settlement comes to.’

‘I know it must seem funny,’ said Mr Morris.

‘It isn’t funny, but it’s certainly strange,’ said the Inspector, ‘that a man, who’s been knocked about and brought the matter to court, should suddenly give it up and pay the other man’s costs.’

‘Yes,’ said Mr Morris, ‘it must seem odd to you.’

‘Would you care to explain?’

‘Oh well,’ said Mr Morris, ‘I suppose I’d better. It’s been on my mind.’