Brothers In Law

by Henry Cecil

‘I had a bit of help from a man in my chambers called Blagrove.’

  ‘I see. Henry doing some work for a change. Never mind. Tell him I’ve marked it Beta plus. That’ll shake him.’

  Mrs Newent came to the Court to watch. Her anger had been assuaged by Mr Merivale and she was quite pleased at the idea of being represented by a QC. That would be something to talk about afterwards, particularly to her friend who’d only had a junior.

  At 10.20 Roger was duly installed in Court waiting for his leader to arrive. Suddenly his inside dropped to the ground, just as it had done when the case had been transferred from Judge Crane to Judge Ryman. He had seen Alec and Plaistowe’s clerk deep in conversation together. Then to his horror they approached Mr Merivale and asked him to come outside. Roger had by this time seen enough of the Bar to know that even a QC cannot be in two places at once. And if, for example, a case in a higher Court in which Plaistowe happened to be involved had unexpectedly not finished he might have to stay on and finish it. Suddenly Roger remembered having seen Plaistowe’s name in The Times a few days before in a case in the House of Lords. He broke into a sweat. He was going to have to do it again. He hadn’t even thought of the possibility. He had at any rate seen the cases, but it was hopeless for him to try and argue with a judge like Ryman. This time neither Sally nor Joy nor his mother were present, but their absence gave him no consolation. The Court was crowded and it would be awful; even if it had been empty it would have been just as bad. He had been so happy at the thought of sitting back and hearing how the case should be conducted and now he was going to have to do it himself – and, of course, he’d lose it. At that moment in his misery Alec came into Court, reached in front of him, said: ‘Excuse me, sir,’ and took away his brief. Fear was now replaced by utter gloom. They were going to take the brief away from him. Not that he could blame them, but that’s what was going to happen. They’d already done it. How terribly humiliating! As if he hadn’t had enough already. The fates were being very unkind. What would he say to Sally and Joy? He’d look such a fool. Oh, well – there was always sorting football coupons. He was interrupted in these miserable thoughts by Alec, who replaced the brief in front of him. On it he saw that what had once been marked as twenty guineas was now thirty-three. All the conference between the clerks had been about was an increase in the fee. Plaistowe’s clerk thought that fifty guineas would be more appropriate to the occasion than thirty. So Roger had to have thirty-three whether he liked it or not. He sang to himself: ‘What was once down-drip is now up-drip.’ He could have wept for joy – and nearly did. A few minutes later Plaistowe arrived and Roger’s happiness was complete.

  Then the judge sat and the case was called on. Plaistowe got up.

  ‘May it please your Lordship, this petition in which I now appear with my learned friend, Mr Thursby–’ Those words sounded very good to Roger. What a pity Sally couldn’t have heard them. And Joy too, of course. After all, it was entirely through her that it had happened at all. And he’d have liked his mother there, too, though she wouldn’t have appreciated the importance of the occasion. But he mustn’t think of things like that. He must see how Plaistowe dealt with the case.

  ‘Yes, I remember, Mr Plaistowe. It was adjourned for further argument. I’m very glad to have your help in the matter, though this remark is not intended as any disparagement of your learned junior.’

  ‘Thank you, my Lord.’

  Plaistowe then went on to recall the facts to the judge’s mind and then to argue on the point of law. He quoted every case which had any possible bearing on the matter. He laid particular emphasis on the passages which supported his contentions, and eventually when he could do no more, he sat down.

  Judge Ryman arranged the papers in front of him and proceeded to give judgment. Among other things he said this: ‘I am bound in this Court to hold contrary to my own belief that it is at present the law of England that a man or woman who commits adultery remains entitled to the comfort and society of the other spouse so long as the adultery is sufficiently well concealed. But although I am bound to hold in this Court that adultery does not automatically prevent desertion, the petitioner must prove that the deserting party would have deserted anyway and that the adultery had nothing whatever to do with it. In my opinion, where the parties are living together, the acts or omissions or words of an adulterous spouse may, without amounting to neglect or misconduct, set in motion a train of events which breaks up the marriage. The wife returning from her lover may, as a result of a guilty conscience, say something to her husband or may even look at him in a way which starts an altercation. That altercation may lead to further disagreements and eventually the innocent spouse may leave the other. How can it then be said that just because the deserting spouse did not know of or suspect the adultery, the adultery had nothing to do with the desertion? In a case where the adultery was many years previously and there had been a long history of a happy marriage with children being born thereafter, no doubt it could be said that, when twenty years later the wife left her husband, her desertion had nothing to do with the very remote act of adultery. But conversely when the act of adultery is close to the desertion, I should have thought that it would be very difficult indeed for a petitioner to satisfy a Court that the adultery did not cause the desertion. In the present case the adultery was very close to the desertion. It may be that it caused it. I do not say it did. I do not know. And that means that the petitioner has certainly not proved to my satisfaction that her adultery had nothing to do with it. In the result, I hold that desertion has not been proved and the petition must be dismissed.’

  Well, thank Heaven, thought Roger, it wasn’t my fault this time.

  ‘Well, Mrs Newent,’ said Plaistowe outside the Court. ‘We shall have to consider whether to advise you to appeal. My personal opinion is that the judge is right, but, on the whole, I think that the Court of Appeal will take a different view.’

  ‘That’s all Greek to me,’ said Mrs Newent. ‘And I didn’t understand what the judge was saying either. But I’ve lost my case, have I?’

  ‘You have at the moment.’

  ‘And I’m still married to that so-and-so?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, all I can say is, I wish him joy of it. I’ve had enough of the law. He can try next time. I don’t know what all the fuss is about. My friend got her divorce all right. So why shouldn’t I? It isn’t justice.’

  ‘I’m extremely sorry, Mrs Newent,’ began Plaistowe.

  ‘Not half as sorry as I am,’ said Mrs Newent. ‘Cost me a pretty penny and what have I got for it? Nothing.’

  She looked round for a moment as though trying to see whom she could blame. Her eye came to Roger.

  ‘If you ask me,’ she went on, ‘it’s all come about by employing schoolboys to do my case. If I’d had a proper barrister in the first instance this would never have happened.’

  ‘You’ve no right to talk like that,’ said Plaistowe.

  ‘No right, haven’t I? It’s a free country and I can say what I like. Of course you all stand together. You would. But if you want my opinion you’re all a bloody lot of twisters and that’s straight.’

  ‘Come along, my dear chap,’ said Plaistowe to Roger. ‘Goodbye, Mr Merivale, Mr Smith. Let me know if I can be of any further help to you.’

  And so ended Roger’s first case with a leader. He was secretly glad that Mrs Newent had started to abuse Plaistowe in much the same way as she had abused him, and that Plaistowe’s reaction had been similar to his own. He wondered if Plaistowe would send him a red bag. He did not expect one, but it was nice to think of the possibility.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Wrap It Up

  It remained a possibility for a time, but not for very long. Plaistowe did in fact consider it but decided that it would be a bad precedent and possibly not very good for Roger, though he thought him a pleasant and potentially able young man. After the tumult and the shouting about Newent and Newent had died down and Roger h
ad told everyone about it, he returned to the normal life of a pupil with Mr Grimes. He looked at untold numbers of briefs. He went regularly into Court, he made notes in Court which sometimes Mr Grimes actually looked at. He turned up points of law in the Bar Library, he started to prepare those technical legal documents called pleadings as an exercise and then looked to see how Mr Grimes did them himself; he went and had coffee at Grooms, he lunched in the Crypt, in counsel’s room in the Law Courts and very occasionally in hall. He often went to the ‘Bear Garden’ and he followed Mr Grimes about as fast as he could and he asked Henry innumerable questions. Sometimes he had that terrible sinking feeling in the stomach when he was in Court with Mr Grimes and saw Alec hovering about waiting to pounce on his master to drag him to some other Court, leaving perhaps Roger to hold the fort while he was away. But this did not actually happen for some months after his first day, though the fear of it was often there. Among other things he frequently went to the hearing of applications to adjourn cases. Mr Grimes often had to make such an application and one day, when it seemed as though he might be held up in the Privy Council and that no one else would be available, Roger was asked by Alec to be prepared to apply to the judge in charge of the non-jury list for a case to be stood out of the list. The application was consented to by the other side, but that did not necessarily mean that it would be granted. If cases about to come on for trial could be taken out of the list at will the lists would get into hopeless disorder. Some judges are fairly easy about granting applications which are consented to. Some are not so easy. Some are very difficult, particularly when the reason for the adjournment is simply that the parties are not ready. As usual Roger consulted Henry on the subject.

  ‘Who is the judge?’

  ‘Bingham, I think.’

  ‘That’s bad. He’s the worst. You must wrap it up.’

  ‘What’s that mean?’

  ‘Have you never heard of old Swift?’

  ‘Only by name really. What about him?’

  ‘I’ll tell you. He was a judge with an attractive accent all of his own, though with a north country bias and a rather slow way of speaking. He would pronounce “Mister” rather like “Mistah” and “o” in “of” rather like “u” in “up.” He was a very popular judge, though he was very much master in his own Court. No one could take liberties with Swift. He could be very awkward if he wanted to and he was naughty sometimes. He could also be very helpful if he wanted to be, particularly to a young man. He had an amusing sense of humour. The story goes that one day Swift was hearing applications for adjournments when a young man called Croft with a very white wig got up and asked leave to mention the case of Smith against Brown.

  ‘“What is your application, Mistah Cruft?” said Swift.

  ‘“It’s by consent, my Lord, to take the case out of the list for fourteen days, my Lord.”

  ‘“On what grounds, Mistah Cruft?” said Swift.

  ‘“Oh, my Lord, I don’t think the parties are quite–”

  ‘Before he could say any more Swift intervened.

  ‘“Wrap it up, Mistah Cruft,” he said.

  ‘“I beg your pardon, my Lord?” said young Croft, completely mystified.

  ‘“Wrap it up,” repeated Swift.

  ‘Croft just looked miserable – I believe you know the feeling – and thereupon Swift said rather sternly, but with a twinkle in his eye: “Sit down, Mistah Cruft, and listen to Mistah Andrew Pain. You have an application, I believe, Mistah Andrew Pain?”

  ‘“Yes, my Lord – in the case of Hatchett and Bellows which is No. 1357 in the non-jury list.”

  ‘“What is your application?”

  ‘“To stand the case out for a month, my Lord.”

  ‘“And the grounds?”

  ‘“Oh, my Lord, the action is for breach of an oral contract. One of the witnesses to the making of the contract is in Brazil and can’t be back for at least three weeks. At the time the case was set down it was not known by anyone that he would have to go there, but unfortunately only recently the witness’ aged mother who is staying in Brazil became ill and he had to go to her. Then, my Lord, another reason for the adjournment is that through no fault of the parties or their solicitors some of the documents in the case were burnt. They are vital documents and the solicitors are trying to reach agreement as to what they contained. Then, my Lord, another witness, or I should say a possible witness, has suddenly left his address and we haven’t been able to trace him yet. Finally, my Lord, one of the partners in the firm of solicitors instructing me has unfortunately just gone into hospital for appendicitis and the managing clerk who was attending to the matter has gone to another firm.”

  ‘“Mistah Cruft,” said Swift.

  ‘Pain was still on his feet, and his application not yet disposed of, so Croft, who was, of course, sitting down, thought he might have misheard and remained seated.

  ‘“Mistah Cruft,” said Swift loudly and sternly.

  Croft rose trembling to his feet.

  ‘“Mistah Cruft, did you hear Mr Andrew Pain’s application?”

  ‘“Yes, my Lord.”

  ‘“That’s what I call wrapping it up,” said Swift.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  Criminal Proceedings

  Occasionally, though not very often, Mr Grimes appeared in a Criminal Court and Roger, of course, went with him. Peter always went on these occasions because, as he said, that was more in his line. On one such occasion Mr Grimes had a big conspiracy case in which he was prosecuting on behalf of a large company. Such cases always start in the Magistrate’s Court and the day before the first hearing Roger mentioned it to Henry.

  ‘I wonder if you’ll be before old Meadowes,’ said Henry. ‘I hope so. He’s an amusing old bird sometimes.’

  ‘Come on,’ said Roger. ‘Let’s have it – I can go to the Bar Library when you’ve told me.’

  ‘Well, Meadowes had an old hand up in front of him who rather liked going to prison in the winter. He had a pretty hard life and he found prison more comfortable in the cold weather. So, regularly every October he’d commit some crime worth six months, do his stretch and come out in the spring. Well, one day this old boy came up in front of Meadowes. He pleaded guilty as usual, said he had nothing to say and waited for the usual six months.

  ‘“Three months imprisonment,” said Meadows.

  ‘The old boy thought he must have misheard.

  ‘“What’s that?” he said.

  ‘“Three months imprisonment,” repeated the clerk.

  ‘“But that’s all wrong, your Worship. I always get six months for this.”

  ‘“Take him away,” said the clerk.

  ‘The old boy clung to the bars of the dock.

  ‘“But please, your Worship, make it six. I always get six for this, straight I do.”

  ‘A policeman started to remove him from the dock.

  ‘“Leave me alone, you something something,” said the old man. “I have my rights.”

  ‘“Now, look,” said Meadowes, who thought he had better take a hand, “if you don’t behave yourself, I shan’t send you to prison at all!”’

  At that moment Alec came into the room.

  ‘Mr Grimes would like to see you, sir,’ he said to Roger.

  ‘How are ye, my dear fellow,’ said Mr Grimes when Roger arrived. ‘Now look, my dear fellow, will ye very kindly keep this case in the Magistrate’s Court back till I arrive tomorrow. It’ll be quite all right, my dear fellow. I’ve spoken to Brunner who’s on the other side and he’s agreeable. All ye have to do is to tell the clerk before the magistrate sits, and then wait till I come. If by accident it’s called on before I come, just ask the magistrate to keep it back.’

  ‘You will be there, I suppose?’ said Roger, who had learned a good deal now by experience.

  ‘Of course I’ll be there, my dear fellow, of course I’ll be there. What are ye thinking of? Of course I’ll be there. Dear, dear, dear – not be there, who ever heard of such
a thing, dear, dear, dear.’

  ‘Suppose it is called on and the magistrate won’t keep it back?’

  ‘Just tell him the tale, my dear fellow, just tell him the tale.’

  ‘But what tale?’

  ‘Look, my dear fellow,’ said Mr Grimes, ‘if ye don’t want to do it, ye needn’t. I can get Hallfield to do it. But I thought ye might like it, my dear fellow, I thought ye might like it.’

  ‘Oh, I should very much.’

  ‘That’s right, my dear fellow, that’s the way, that’s the way. Ye have seen the papers, have ye?’

  ‘I’ve looked at them, but not very thoroughly.’

  ‘Well, ye’d better look at them again now, my dear fellow. Ye’ll find lots of tales to tell from them, my dear fellow. Oh, dear, yes. It’s a fine kettle of fish. Taking machinery from under their very noses. I don’t know what we’re coming to, my dear fellow, I really don’t. They’ll be stealing houses next and factories. They took half the contents of one in this case. And from under their very noses, under their very noses. I don’t know, my dear fellow, but there it is. They will do these things, they will do these things.’

  Roger took the papers away. The case was about a large conspiracy to steal. Roger wondered if he’d ever be able to master a brief of that size, though he had more confidence in being able to do so than he had three months previously.

  The next day he went to the Magistrate’s Court in plenty of time and saw the clerk before the magistrate sat.

  ‘That’s a bit awkward,’ said the clerk. ‘The lists are in a complete mess today. He’s taking some summonses after the charges but there aren’t many of them and they won’t last long. Can’t you start it?’

  ‘I’d rather not,’ said Roger.

  ‘I thought that’s how you got experience at the Bar,’ said the clerk. ‘When I was practising as a solicitor they used to play it on me like blazes. Sometimes I’d get the most awful damn fools appearing for part of the case when I’d briefed someone quite good. But it’s jolly good experience for the young chaps who come down. Not such a pleasant experience for the solicitor sometimes, or easy to explain to the client.’