“Why ever did he give up?”
“I think he had a bad illness which was followed by a long convalescence. He then came back for a while, but again withdrew. I may be quite wrong, for it’s such a long time ago, but my belief is that he had substantial private means, in which case it would have been idle to continue to jeopardize his health. And I don’t think such a man can have enjoyed his work. Divorce work is easy enough to do, but it is hardly inspiring. And in any case of importance, such as the one which I am reporting, Common Lawyers were always brought in.”
“But this wasn’t a Divorce,” said Daphne.
“It was a Probate matter – that is, to do with a Will. And Probate and Divorce belong to the same Division.”
“How very confusing.”
“I agree. Why Probate and Admiralty matters should have been linked with Divorce, I cannot conceive. Of course, when that was arranged, there weren’t many Probate matters, few Admiralty cases and only about a hundred Divorces a year. Probate and Admiralty matters are still few, but Divorce cases have increased to thirty thousand a year. I believe those figures are accurate.”
“Progress,” said Jonah.
“I suppose so.
“To continue. I wasn’t greatly impressed by Bargrave Deane. I think I am right in saying that he later became a Divorce Court Judge, but I may be wrong there. Barnard was the other leading junior of the Divorce Court. He was genial, but undistinguished. The Trustees certainly had very much the better team.
“Then Jeune entered and took his seat on the Bench. I can’t say I liked his manner. I believe that he was accounted a good Judge, but his manner was by no means agreeable. I never heard him make a pleasant remark. That was the only occasion on which I saw him, and he may have been at his worst, for, as I shall show, there was feeling between him and Edward Clarke. Both knew, of course, that Clarke had been offered and had refused the Mastership of the Rolls. Had he accepted that great office, he would have taken precedence of Jeune, as President of the Divorce Court.
“Well, the proceedings began. The old Will was propounded and Clarke opened the Trustees’ case. He disclosed that by the provisions of the old Will, every penny of Mrs Druce’s considerable fortune was left to charities in which she had taken a lifelong interest; whereas, by the provisions of the new Will, not a penny was left to any charity, but the handsome legacy of five thousand pounds was left to an odd general practitioner who had attended her for five days and the whole of the rest of her fortune, more than one hundred thousand pounds, had been divided equally between a solicitor on whom she had never set eyes till four days before her death and the solicitor’s sister who had acted as her companion for the last six months and was in receipt of a very humble salary. He declared that ‘this infamous document’ had been drawn without Mrs Druce’s knowledge or consent, that when it was read to her, she was far too ill to understand its contents and that, when she affixed her signature – if, in fact, she did – she was moribund and quite incapable of knowing what she was doing. He submitted that it was a daring attempt – which, but for the fortuitous visit of Mrs Gascoigne, might well have succeeded – on the part of the companion and her brother to steal the old lady’s fortune and that the doctor whom they had summoned had been ‘left’ five thousand pounds to hold his tongue. Of course Clarke didn’t put it so bluntly as that, but that was what he implied.”
“As,” said Berry, “he had every right to. I trust Jeune impounded the documents and that the wicked trio came by their rights. Sorry. Please go on.”
“Well, then the witnesses were called.
“For some reason or other, Mrs Gascoigne did not give evidence. Looking back, I find that surprising; for her chance, but dramatic arrival and her description of what she found would have thrown a lurid glare on the events to come.”
“You amaze me,” said Jonah. “And she doesn’t sound as if she would have made a bad witness. Why on earth wasn’t she called?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“I can’t remember that Coles commented upon her absence, and I was too young and inexperienced to do anything but take things for granted. She may, of course, have begged to be excused; for particularly in those days ladies shrank from the idea of appearing in court. I think that’s the most likely explanation. But it is quite possible that Clarke thought he could win the case without her evidence. As I’ve said, he was very autocratic, and, as being the leader, he had to have his way. The less time a case takes, the better – for any distinguished counsel whose services are in demand.
“Perhaps I ought to have said that the old Will was produced, I think by Mrs Druce’s solicitors, and made an exhibit. I can’t remember that happening, but I imagine that it was done.
“I think the eminent doctor, whom Mrs Gascoigne summoned, was the next witness. He said that he first saw Mrs Druce on the day before she was said to have signed the new Will and that she was even then so seriously ill that it was very doubtful whether she could have appreciated the contents of any document: that when he saw her the next morning she was worse and that on that same evening she was approaching a condition of coma. Bargrave Deane cross-examined him, but could not shake him on any material point.
“Then the two nurses were called. One was very definite. She said that she could not believe that the patient understood what was going on. She was too ill. Bargrave Deane, naturally, attacked her. ‘Do you mean to tell the Court that you watched her sign her Will and then subscribed your name, when all the time you believed that she didn’t know what she was doing? Why didn’t you say, But she’s not fit to sign a Will?’ And so on. Still, he couldn’t shake her. Gill re-examined very well and led her to say what was the undoubted truth – that she had felt that she ought to protest and decline to witness Mrs Druce’s signature, but that she hadn’t liked to. After all, she was quite a young girl, and the companion’s brother was probably rather compelling.
“The second nurse, who had witnessed the ordeal which her comrade had just endured, was pardonably nervous. She was less definite than the other, but she did state that, when Mrs Druce signed the Will, she, the nurse, held the pen into the patient’s hand and guided the pen over the paper, and that, had she not done this, the patient could not have affixed her signature. Coles told me later that in her statement to the solicitors she had said that Mrs Druce’s signature had been written on the Will in pencil and that she had guided the pen to follow its shape. But she would not go so far in court; and, of course, Gill could not cross-examine her because she was his own witness.”
“She’d been got at,” said Berry.
“Possibly. And she was certainly scared of Bargrave Deane. He shook her to some extent, but she stuck to the fact that she had guided Mrs Druce’s hand and that the companion’s brother had told her to do so.”
“What a shocking business,” said Jonah.
“Yes, it was very dreadful. The poor, dying lady being used like a lay figure, to will her fortune away from the charities she had chosen to two people she hardly knew.”
“I think it was awful,” said Daphne. “How can people be so wicked?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“I admit it smacks of the Old Bailey rather than the Law Courts, but there you are. And I don’t think it’s surprising that the case has stuck in my mind for fifty years.
“Well, so much for the evidence. Now for the Judge. For some astonishing reason, Jeune showed a definite bias in favour of the new Will.”
“Impossible,” cried Berry.
“It’s a fact. He cross-examined the eminent doctor.
“‘You were not present when the Will was signed?’
“‘No, my lord.’
“‘Then you can’t speak to her condition at that time?’
“‘No, my lord.’
“‘Are you going to tell me that it is impossible that her condition temporarily improved between the visit you paid that morning and the visit you paid that night?’
“‘It is
not impossible, my lord. But it is improbable.’
“‘Why improbable?’
“‘Because her illness was taking a certain course.’
“‘Have you ever known cases in which patients who were dying suddenly rallied for a while?’
“‘I have known such cases, my lord. But I should be much surprised if this case was one of them.’
“Coles was outraged. I was too young to be outraged, but it seemed to me very surprising and most unfair.”
“It was monstrous,” said Berry. “Whatever was biting Jeune?”
“God knows,” said I. “And he interrupted Clarke more than once, but favoured Bargrave Deane. The more I think upon it, the more inclined I am to the idea that Jeune’s dislike of Clarke had much to do with his attitude. It’s a very painful conclusion, but I can come to no other.
“Well, all this has taken a very short time to tell, but the examination, cross-examination and re-examination of witnesses is a slow business and the case for the Trustees was not concluded until the luncheon-adjournment on the second day. It remained for the companion and her brother to propound their Will and give their evidence and then for Clarke and Bargrave Deane to address the jury.
“As we left the Court, I remember that Coles touched my arm. I looked round. Then I followed his gaze to see Clarke and Bargrave Deane in close conversation, by themselves. ‘The case will be settled,’ said Coles. ‘Let’s go and lunch.’”
“Oh, I can’t bear it,” said Berry.
“He was perfectly right,” I said. “When the Judge took his seat after luncheon, Sir Edward Clarke rose to his feet.
“‘I am happy to say,’ he said, ‘that your lordship will not be further troubled with this case. A settlement has been arranged agreeable to both parties.’
“There was a general rustle of astonishment, but Jeune just nodded.
“‘Very well,’ he said.
“More was said, of course, because you couldn’t have two Wills admitted to Probate. But I don’t remember what was said and I really don’t care. I believe the fortune was divided between the beneficiaries of the first Will and those of the second. But young as I was, I was wild. Bitterly disappointed and wild.
“Coles said very little, although of course I kept on asking him why the Trustees had thrown in their hand.
“As we walked back to his office, ‘I shall learn the truth later,’ he said. ‘And I’ll tell you then. I’m as upset as you are. I cannot bear to see a good case go wrong. The jury were certainly staggered, and I’m told that the betting in court was five to one on the Trustees.’
“I didn’t see him again for three or four weeks.
“Then –
“‘D’you remember what Sir George Lewis said to Sir Edward Clarke?’
“‘I do indeed,’ I said.
“‘What he said was perfectly true. Clarke should have won that case hands down. The Trustees’ case was strong: but if the other side’s case had been presented, you would have had the pleasure of hearing it pulverized. You see, Gill was brought in by the Trustees on purpose to cross-examine – that is his great forte. Imagine his cross-examination of the doctor, who had been left five thousand pounds. Or of the companion, or of her brother. Gill would have torn them in pieces. It was what he was there to do. And the jury would have found for the Trustees without leaving the box. Instead, the case was settled – before the other side had opened their mouths.
“‘You remember that Clarke and Bargrave Deane were in close conversation. Well, after we’d gone, Clarke saw the solicitor to the Trustees and said he wanted to see him and his clients in a consulting-room at a quarter to two.
“‘They duly appeared. Gill and Priestley were present. Then Clarke spoke. “In my opinion,” he said, “you will be well-advised to settle this case. Things are not going well. The Judge is dead against us. Our most important witness, the nurse, failed to come up to her proof. What is worse, the Judge is going to protect the other side and to sum up dead against us. If you take my advice – and my experience of these matters is very wide – you’ll settle, lest a worse thing befall. I mean, you don’t want to lose – as you very well may. And you can settle now on very favourable terms.”
“‘Well, the Trustees protested, of course. But Clarke snapped and bit and presently bore them down. Gill and Priestley never opened their mouths. So Clarke had his way.
“‘Now, why did Clarke force this course upon the Trustees? That is a matter of opinion, for Clarke alone knows the truth. But I’ll tell you what I believe. I think Bargrave Deane approached him, as he was leaving the court, and suggested that the case should be settled. Why did Bargrave Deane suggest that? I believe, in all honesty. He realized that he was on a loser and, though he can have had only a very faint hope that Clarke would agree, if he could get a settlement he would be doing his clients a very good turn, for half a loaf is better than no bread – especially when the half-loaf is worth fifty thousand pounds. So Bargrave Deane was perfectly right to try. I’ll go so far as to say that he was doing his duty. Very well. But why did Clarke agree? I mean, Bargrave Deane’s proposal was really ludicrous. Why then did Clarke virtually force the Trustees to accept it? Because he was sick and tired of Jeune’s behaviour. Jeune was twisting his tail, and Clarke could do nothing about it. But a settlement, however monstrous, offered him a way of escape. And so he took it. He used his powerful personality to force the Trustees’ hand.
“‘Mark you, I’m not going to say that the case could not have gone wrong. Any case can go wrong. But I simply cannot believe that, after Gill’s cross-examination of the three supporters of the new Will, any jury, Judge or no Judge, could have returned a verdict in their favour. And if I can see that, so could Clarke – with a very much keener eye.
“‘Had Clarke been a lesser man, he would not have done as he did. But when a professional man attains great eminence, whether he’s a lawyer or a doctor or anything else, unless he is very scrupulous, he sometimes subordinates his duty to his convenience.
“‘Of course, the Judge himself was greatly to blame. He took advantage of his high office to give Clarke offence, well knowing that Clarke could not hit back. A contemptible thing to do. But Clarke should have treated it with contempt – and gone on and won his case… That should have been his riposte.
“‘Now don’t forget, Boy, that all of this is surmise. I may be quite wrong. But I don’t think that I am wrong. I believe that what I have said is the very truth. I’m not sorry you’ve seen this side of the Bench and the Bar. I don’t believe in disillusioning people, but it is just as well that you should know that Bench and Bar have their failings like everyone else. The etiquette of the Bar is very strict, but the members of the Bar are men, and you will sometimes encounter an opponent who is not too scrupulous. That is inevitable. But I know you’ll always do your duty, whatever it costs.’”
“Most interesting,” said Berry. “A clash between two great personalities – and Justice goes down the drain. I imagine it’s often happened. Who’d ever go to law? Did you ever see the same sort of thing again?”
“Never,” said I. “But what a wise man Coles Willing was. Take the case of the famous surgeon. How often does such a man put his convenience first?”
“Are you right?” said Jonah. “All the same, what a blasted scandal! The three of them should have done time.”
“Indeed they should. It was a cruel and heartless crime, for which there was no excuse. If Jeune and Clarke had done their duty, the Trustees would have won their case and, as Berry said, the documents would have been impounded and sent to the Public Prosecutor. That he would have taken action, I have no doubt; and from what I remember of the doctor, my belief is that, to save his skin, he would have turned Queen’s Evidence – with the happy result that the brother and sister would have gone heavily down.”
“Why d’you think he would have turned Queen’s Evidence?”
“Well, I’ve told you that he looked very hang-dog, and Gill
in his cross-examination would simply have flayed him alive. And I think he’d have said to himself, ‘Well, I’m not going through that again for anyone’, and so he’d have thrown in his hand.
“And that is a perfect example of a good case going wrong. Mark you, you can’t blame the Law any more than you can blame the apparatus when there’s a railway smash. It is the human element that fails four times out of five. And you can’t eliminate that.”
11
Berry looked at me with a hand to his chin.
“I should simply hate,” he said, “to speak out of turn; but in the last few days an unusual activity on your part and on that of your agreeable secretary has been apparent. I mean, as a rule she only comes twice a week: but lately she has appeared at odd times and the atmosphere of urgency has been unmistakable. I hope – we all hope that nothing untoward is afoot.”
I began to laugh.
“It’s all over now,” I said. “But about ten days ago I suddenly learned that the title I had given my new book had been unwittingly taken by somebody else.”
“Oh, my dear!” cried Daphne.
“But you’d passed the proofs,” cried Berry. “The final proofs.”
“The first edition had been printed,” said Jill. “And the dust-cover, too.”
“Good God!” said Jonah.
I nodded.
“It was most unfortunate. Mercifully, there was just enough time to change the title, yet keep to the publication date: but only just enough – for you can’t drive the printer today. Only a few copies had been bound. Had we found out a week or so later, we should have been sunk.”
“What a show!” said Jonah. “It’s never happened before?”
“Never,” said I. “Looking back, I think I’ve been lucky. Some of my titles have been unusual, but by no means all. Cost Price might well have been taken, and so might Maiden Stakes.”
“No copyright in a title?”
B-Berry and I Look Back Page 12
