Brothers In Law (18 page)

‘Mr Green,' said Roger, ‘this is a little difficult to say and please don't think I'm meaning to be offensive, but have you ever thought of pleading – that is – I mean – I hope you'll understand – putting up a defence of – of – insanity?'

‘Cheer up,' said Mr Green. ‘I always do this to begin with. Don't let it get you down. Helps me find out what sort of a chap you are. Now look. There's only one count against me. There's nothing in it at all. We're as good as out in the road already – only we're not. But don't you worry, we shall be. Now, d'you see what it says here?'

He showed Roger the indictment.

‘Obtaining money by false pretences with intent to defraud. Well, it's ridiculous, that's what it is. It's laughable. It won't stick. They'll never wear it. Are you agreed upon your verdict? We are. Do you find the prisoner Arthur Green Guilty or Not Guilty. Not Guilty. Not Guilty, and is that the verdict of you all? It is. And out we go. Shame I couldn't get bail or I wouldn't have been inside at all.'

‘Really,' said Roger. ‘Time's getting on. You must tell me the facts. Have you a copy of the depositions?'

‘That's a fair question. And here's a fair answer. Yes.'

‘Can I see them, please?'

‘Don't you think they might put you off?'

‘Mr Green, if you're not mad and want me to defend you, you must let me see the depositions.'

‘At last,' said Mr Green. ‘Say it louder next time. I'm not sorry I chose you, but you're making me work. Don't you understand, young man, that at your game you've got to be able to shout down the other side, the judge, the jury and all? And what hope have you got if you can't shout me down? Eh? None at all. It's taken me ten minutes to get you annoyed even. Come on, get tough, let's see some rough stuff. Tear 'em to pieces.'

‘All right,' said Roger. ‘P'raps you'd tell me what it's all about in as few words as possible, please.'

‘Apart from the “please” that was all right. Good. I'll tell you. It's simple as pie. I'm charged with obtaining money by false pretences. How much money? Twenty pounds. A beggarly twenty pounds. How did I get it? By selling toffee. That's right, toffee. I get the money, they get the toffee. What's wrong with that?'

‘Nothing as far as I can see – if they get enough toffee.'

‘That's quick of you. Enough toffee. Well, as a matter of fact, they didn't, but they're not charging me with that. Look – you see – all it says is “by falsely pretending that a letter signed G St Clair Smith was a genuine reference when in fact it was written by the accused himself.” That's all, positively all. It's laughable.'

‘Well – there is a Mr St Clair Smith then and he wrote it?'

‘Be reasonable,' said Mr Green. ‘Fair's fair and all that. But how would I get as far as this if there was a Mr Smith – St Clair or not?'

‘Then there isn't anyone?'

‘No idea. There may be for all I know,' said Mr Green.

‘Then who wrote the reference?'

‘Who do you think?'

‘Well,' said Roger, ‘if you ask me to be frank, I think you did.'

‘Don't be bashful about it,' said Mr Green. ‘Of course I did. Who else could have done – except Mr Smith, of course, and we're not sure about him, are we?'

‘Well,' said Roger, ‘if you wrote yourself a reference and pretended that it was written by Mr Smith, what's your defence?'

‘They had the toffee, of course.'

‘But not enough?'

‘They don't complain that it wasn't enough here. They just say about the reference.'

‘Yes, I see,' said Roger. ‘But you had twenty pounds from them, didn't you?'

‘Certainly.'

‘How much toffee did they get?'

‘At least a quarter of what they ordered. More like a third.'

‘But you got the full price?'

‘That's right.'

‘Well, I'm bound to say it sounds pretty fishy to me,' said Roger.

‘Of course it does. If it didn't sound fishy, I shouldn't be here, should I? I'll tell you something else. It was fishy. But that doesn't mean it was a crime. Oh, dear, no. It's a postal business I run. Cash with order, I say. Fair enough? And in my first letter I always offer a reference. What's more, I give them a reference whether they want it or not.'

‘You mean,' said Roger, ‘you write yourself a reference under another name?'

‘I mean,' said Mr Green, ‘precisely that. But this chap, like most of them, has too sweet a tooth, that's his trouble. He wants his toffee. So he doesn't bother about a reference and just sends his money.'

‘Then I can't see why on earth you're charged if that's the only false pretence alleged. They've got to prove they relied on it and if they hadn't had it they couldn't have relied on it.'

‘Smart boy,' said Mr Green. ‘You saw the point.'

‘Yes,' said Roger. ‘But you did send a reference.'

‘You bet I did,' said Mr Green. ‘I always do.'

‘And he must have had it before he sent the money,' said Roger, ‘or the case wouldn't have gone on like this. You must let me see the depositions.'

‘All right,' said Mr Green. ‘As you are so pressing,' and he handed them to Roger, who read them for a few minutes.

‘Well, it's quite plain from these that he had the reference first,' said Roger. ‘I knew he must have done.'

‘Well, he didn't,' said Mr Green. ‘The quickness of the hand deceives the eye. I can prove be didn't.'

‘How?'

‘Elementary, my dear – I beg your pardon, sir. I shouldn't have done that. But it is too, too simple. Shall I explain?'

‘Please do,' said Roger.

‘How d'you catch mice?' said Mr Green.

‘Now really–' began Roger.

‘With bait,' went on Mr Green. ‘I send my little reference on the 24th but I actually date it the 20th. What happens? Complaints are made by the public about my toffee. Not enough of it. Stale, bad, rotten toffee, and so on. Now, for one reason or another I didn't want the police prying into my affairs, looking at my books (if any), and so on and so forth. So, after I've had the money, I send this nice little reference in pretty obviously disguised handwriting. Aha, say they, we've got him. Handwriting experts and all that. His handwriting. And the date? Just before the customer sent the money. We've got him, they say. The customer doesn't want much persuading that he had the reference before he sent the money, particularly when the police point out the date. “You must have done,” they say. “So I must,” says he. So they don't bother to look into my affairs except quite casually. A false reference is good enough for them. Saves them a lot of trouble. He's in the bag, they say. But, you see, he isn't. That's just where he isn't. Proof of posting isn't proof of delivery, eh? But it's proof of
non
-delivery. I get a receipt for my letter. And here it is. Shows I sent the letter after he sent the money. I tell you he had too sweet a tooth. They all have. Of course, when they come and see me and show me Mr St Clair Smith's letter I pretend I haven't seen it before, but I look nice and uncomfortable when I say it and what with the date on it, my other letter and the handwriting expert, they're happy as sandboys.

‘“Did you believe it to be a genuine reference, Mr Sweet Tooth?”

‘“I did.”

‘“If you had not believed it was a genuine reference, would you have sent the money?”

‘“I would not.”

‘“Thank you, Mr Sweet Tooth.”'

‘Are you sure,' said Roger, ‘that you only sent one letter to him at about that time?'

‘Ah,' said Mr Green. ‘I'm not so bad at choosing counsel after all. And you're not such a – now what am I saying? That's the one question you've got to ask. “Did you have any letter from the defendant?” I prefer that to “prisoner,” but I don't really mind if you forget – “did you have any letter from the defendant at about the time you received the reference?” Well, he'll have to say “no” – but that's the one point you've got to be careful of. Once you've held him down to that, we're home. Out comes the receipt for posting and I can go and lose all the money I haven't paid you at Ascot. Right?'

‘I see the point,' said Roger. ‘I must think about it.'

Later that day when Roger returned to the Temple after completing his conference with Mr Green, he consulted Henry on the matter.

‘You can never tell,' said Henry. ‘If the chap admits that no other letters were sent to him at that time it looks like a winner. But don't you be too sure about getting that admission. And if you get the admission don't go on pressing him about it. That's a mistake beginners often make. They get the admission they need and they're so pleased about it they go on asking questions about it and before they know where they are, if the witness hasn't actually withdrawn the admission, he's what you might call blurred it, by adding words like, “Well, I'm not quite sure” or “perhaps I'm wrong” and “now I come to think of it there may have been another letter.” Economy in cross-examination is very necessary.'

‘Thanks very much,' said Roger. ‘Yes, I see. I am grateful. Now, another thing. It won't arise in this case because I haven't any witnesses except the prisoner. But I always thought counsel wasn't supposed to see witnesses and I saw one or two counsel with a lot of people round them. I didn't hear what they were saying, but I should have thought some of them probably were witnesses.'

‘Well,' said Henry, ‘a good deal of latitude is allowed to counsel for the defence in criminal cases, but you're quite right in thinking that, generally speaking, counsel shouldn't talk to the witnesses except his own client or expert witnesses. But it's a matter for counsel's discretion, and in an exceptional case he certainly can. But don't you try to pretend to yourself that a case is exceptional when it isn't. We don't want you to get like old Ian McTavish, though I'm sure you won't.'

‘Who was he?'

‘He was a lovable old man, whom everyone liked, but he was an old rascal. The story goes that his opponent in a fraud case at a County Court found the old boy in the consultation-room surrounded by witnesses, saying: “Now then, boys, all together. ‘We relied upon the representations.'”'

 

Roger had a difficult decision to make the day before the case of Mr Green came on for trial at the Old Bailey. Should he ask Sally, Joy and his mother, or alternatively one or more and which of them? He would dearly have liked his triumph – if it was to be one – witnessed, but on the other hand, suppose things went wrong and he made a fool of himself again? Eventually he decided to ask Sally her opinion.

‘Roger,' she said, ‘I should love to hear you, I really should. But d'you know, if I were you, I should wait until you've got more confidence. It's always possible the thought of one of us – never mind which – will distract or worry you. Then again – you might actually start to act for our benefit and that would be really bad. I'm doing myself out of a lot in saying this, because I'm sure my Mr Sharpe would let me go if I wanted to.'

‘
Our
Mr Sharpe?'

‘Roger,' said Sally, ‘you're not jealous?'

‘Of course not,' said Roger.

‘No, I was afraid I must be mistaken.'

‘Surely you don't want me to be jealous?'

‘Oh, Roger, you are young. Never mind. Forget it. Will you ask Joy to go to the Old Bailey?'

‘Of course not,' said Roger. ‘I nearly always take your advice. I've never known you wrong yet.'

‘Dear Roger, you're so sweet – and unformed.'

‘You think I'm an awful ass.'

‘I don't think anything of the sort. F E Smith was unformed once and all the others. You've lots of time. And d'you know – I think you've come on, even in the last six months.'

‘Do you really? You're not just trying to be nice?'

‘Have you ever known me? No, I'd really like to come to the Old Bailey to see the difference. I'm sure it'll be considerable.'

‘Do come, Sally – I'd love you to be there.'

‘Don't tempt me, Roger. It isn't fair. You tell me all about it when it's over.'

That evening Roger had an appointment to dine with Mr Merivale.

‘My dear Roger,' said Mr Merivale. ‘How very nice to see you. Very good of you to give me the time. You won't be able to go out in the evenings much longer. Nose to the grindstone, my boy. But that's the Bar. Either too much work or too little. How are things going?'

‘As a matter of fact,' said Roger, ‘I've got a brief at the Old Bailey tomorrow.'

‘Dear me,' said Mr Merivale. ‘For the prosecution or defence?'

‘Defence.'

‘Pleading Guilty?'

‘Oh, no. I hope to get him off.'

‘That's the way, my boy. Be a fighter. Ah, here's Joy. She'll have to give me a report on you. In case we have any big criminal cases.'

‘Oh, what's all this?' said Joy.

‘I've got a case at the Old Bailey tomorrow.'

‘Oh, how lovely,' said Joy.

‘And you're going to report it for me,' said Mr Merivale. ‘I shall send you both in my car.'

‘Oh, uncle – you are sweet,' said Joy and gave him a kiss.

‘It's most kind of you,' said Roger, who did not see how he could possibly get out of it.

Roger did not tell his mother about the case. He decided to wait until it was over. It would be more effective and she'd be more likely to listen. On the day before the trial she was particularly difficult.

‘Oh dear, oh dear,' she kept on saying. ‘I'll forget my own name next.'

Roger was quite used to this sort of thing, but he asked politely: ‘What is it, Mother darling?'

‘If I knew, my pet, would I be asking? But there's something I've forgotten that I've got to do. And terrible things will happen if I don't do it.'

‘What terrible things?'

‘My dear, darling Roger, how should I know until they happen? Then it'll be too late. Of course if I could think what it was I had to do, they wouldn't happen. Be an angel and think for me. You know I don't do it very well.'

‘I expect you've got to do something for Aunt Ethel.'

‘No, I think it's more important than Aunt Ethel.'

‘It must be serious then,' said Roger. ‘I've got something important to do tomorrow too, but I'll tell you that later.'

‘Another examination, Roger darling? Surely not?'

‘Now Mother, really! You know I'm qualified. You've seen me in Court.'

‘But you could still have examinations. Doctors do. The one who helped me with you said he wanted to be a gynaecologist. I was very flattered.'

The next day Mr Merivale sent Joy in his car to fetch Roger and take them both to the Temple and thence to the Old Bailey.

‘Oh, Roger, I'm so excited,' said Joy. ‘Now you really are starting. I'm sure no one as young as you has ever had a case at the Old Bailey. Oh, Roger – I do love you – and you do love me, don't you, Roger? It's at times like these when I feel it so terribly.'

She squeezed his hand. He squeezed hers.

‘If I don't sound very affectionate, Joy, it's because I'm thinking about the case. A man may go to prison because of me – or be free because of me. It's a dreadful responsibility.'

‘I'm so proud of you, Roger,' whispered Joy.

That morning Mr Sharpe sent for Sally.

‘Sally,' he said, ‘I wonder if you'd do me a small favour?'

‘Of course,' said Sally.

‘There's a young man I know – or know of, I should say,' he began.

‘No, thank you,' said Sally. ‘It's very kind of you all the same.'

‘Now, how on earth d'you know what I'm going to say? I know a lot of young men – a very large number. I go to a boys' club among other things.'

‘I hope none of them are where you're about to suggest I should go.'

Sally had told Mr Sharpe some days previously about Roger's case.

‘Well, sorry,' said Mr Sharpe, ‘if it can't be
volens
, it'll have to be
nolens volens
. As your study of the law of contract will have told you, an employee is bound to obey all reasonable orders of his or her employer.'

‘Very good, sir,' said Sally.

‘You will proceed,' said Mr Sharpe, ‘to the Old Bailey with all convenient haste. You will there make enquiry as to where a gentleman called Arthur Green is being tried and you will go to that Court, mentioning my name if necessary, in order to get you in – and bring me a complete report of the case. Go along now. You know you're dying to.'

‘But it won't be fair,' said Sally. ‘I've stopped him taking Joy.'

‘Good thing too,' said Mr Sharpe. ‘I never did like the sound of that girl. You know the motto. Anyway, you can't help yourself, you're under orders. Get the sack if you don't. Then who'll give you your articles?'

‘What was that?' said Sally.

‘I said it,' said Mr Sharpe.

‘Oh, oh–' said Sally about as excited as Roger had been when she told him he was going to be a great man. ‘Oh – oh – I could kiss you.'

‘I'm afraid,' said Mr Sharpe, ‘that my wife would not approve of that even from a brunette. Pity. I should have liked the experience.'

‘You are good. Why are you so nice to me?' said Sally.

‘I'm not particularly nice to you. I like people as a whole. As for you – I think you've got more brains for a girl of twenty-one than I've ever heard of. You'll end up President of the Law Society – unless you go and get married or something. And even then – which reminds me – I believe I've just given you a job of work. Off with you. And a full report, mind you – not only the mistakes.'

Before he went to Court Roger had a final word with Henry while Joy stayed in the car.

‘It's quite definite, isn't it, that I only get one speech,' Roger said, ‘and that's after I've called the prisoner?'

‘Quite definite,' said Henry, ‘and make it a good one.'

Roger rejoined Joy and they drove to the Old Bailey, almost in silence, Roger becoming more and more nervous, like a runner before a race. They arrived at the Court and he took Joy through the main entrance. He decided to show her into Court before he robed. Ordinary spectators are supposed to go to the public gallery, but members of the legal profession can usually obtain admission for their friends to the body of the Court, unless the event is a very popular one. But the attendant at the entrance to the Court checks and sometimes stops the people who enter or try to do so.

‘What do you want?' he asked politely but suspiciously of Roger.

‘I'm Counsel,' said Roger with as much assurance as he could manage.

‘Oh,' said the man, plainly taken aback. ‘I'm sorry, sir. I didn't–' He didn't finish the sentence.

Roger showed Joy in and then went up to the robing-room. When he came back to the Court it was twenty past ten. His case was first in the list. Nearly zero hour. As he came into the Court a police officer came up to him.

‘Are you Mr Thursby by any chance?' he asked.

Roger said he was.

‘Your client wants to see you at once, sir,' he said.

He went hurriedly into the dock and down the stairs, wondering what it could be. Had he been more experienced he would not have been in the least surprised. Later he found out that old offenders, particularly those charged with fraud, often ask to see their counsel before and during the case and send them voluminous notes throughout the hearing. They are usually irrelevant and nearly always repetitive.

‘Good morning,' said Mr Green. ‘I hope you slept well.'

‘What is it?' said Roger. ‘There's only a few minutes before the case starts.'

‘Now, don't get fidgety,' said Mr Green. ‘When you've done this as often as I have you'll be quite calm and steady. Look at me. My teeth aren't chattering, are they?'

‘No.'

‘I'm not shaking like a leaf, am I?'

‘No,' said Roger, irritable with nervousness.

‘Now would you not say that I was in very good shape?' asked Mr Green.

‘What has this got to do with it?' said Roger. ‘I thought you wanted to see me about the case.'

‘Look,' said Mr Green, ‘you're my counsel aren't you?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well, I can ask my counsel questions, can't I?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well, I'm asking one. Would you consider that I was in very good shape? It's important, you know. If you thought I wasn't, you might want an adjournment. It's I who've got to go in the witness box and lie like a trooper, not you.'

‘But you're not going to commit perjury?' said Roger, anxiously.

‘Just a manner of speaking,' said Mr Green. ‘I shall tell them much more truth than I gave them toffee. Now, how am I? Is my tie straight?'

‘Really!' said Roger, and then said very seriously: ‘You will tell the truth, won't you?'

‘What d'you take me for?' said Mr Green. ‘Anyone would think I was a crook. You'll hurt my feelings if you're not careful. And then where shall we be? Now, what about the tie? Does it cover the stud all right?'

‘This is ridiculous,' said Roger.

‘Come, come, sir,' said Mr Green. ‘I'm playing the leading part in this show. You may think you are till it comes to going to jail. Then you'll cheerfully yield pride of place to me. True, isn't it? You wouldn't go to jail instead of me, would you?'

‘No,' said Roger.

‘Right, then, I'm the leading actor, and you don't send him on to the stage looking anyhow. He has a dresser, doesn't he? Couldn't afford one as well as you. So I thought you wouldn't mind giving me the once-over. Hair all right?'

‘Quite,' said Roger. That was easy. There was none.

‘Trouser creases all right?'

‘Very good.'

‘Pity I haven't got that gold tooth. I flogged it during my last stretch. Got some jam for it. D'you like jam?'

‘I'm going back into Court,' said Roger, ‘or I shan't be there when the judge comes in.'

‘Don't be cross,' said Mr Green. ‘You'll never do any good if you're cross. Give me a nice smile. Come on. That's better. Now take it easy. It's going to be perfectly all right. Next time I see you it won't be here. Won't be at Ascot, I'm afraid. Can't get into the Royal Enclosure any more. Even Mr St Clair Smith couldn't get me in.'

At that moment a warder came into the room.

‘The judge is just going to sit, sir,' he said.

‘Good luck,' said Mr Green. ‘Chin up, head high, no heel taps, all's fair in love and war, dark the dawn when day is nigh, faint heart never won – oh – he's gone.' He turned to the warder: ‘I almost threw that one back,' he said, ‘but you should have seen the one that got away.'

Roger only just had time to get into the Court before the knocks heralding the arrival of the judge. The judge took his seat, and Roger, having bowed low, sat down and looked across at the jury who were to try Mr Green. As he did so two ladies came into Court and were shown to the seats behind counsel. But for the sight which met his eyes Roger might have noticed them. They were Sally and her mother. They had met outside the Court.

‘What on earth are you doing, Mother?' Sally had said.

‘Well, I thought, as you weren't going, I would. Now I see that I might have done some more practising. Well, as I'm here I might as well stay. Which way do we go in? I promise not to sing.'

The sight which had so shaken Roger was that of his mother sitting in the front row of the jury. At the last moment she had remembered what it was she had had to do. She sat cheerfully in the jury box looking interestedly at everything in the Court. Her eye travelled from the judge to the seats for counsel.

‘That one looks a bit young,' she said to herself as she looked along the line. ‘Quite like Roger really. Yes, very. I must tell him. Quite a striking likeness. Good gracious, it is Roger. Well, really, he might have told me. I wonder if he'll speak. Should I smile at him or won't he like it? Why shouldn't I? After all, I'm his mother.'