A Prisoner of Birth

by Jeffrey Archer

  ‘And your occupation?’

  ‘I am a solicitor of the High Court of Scotland.’

  ‘Can I confirm that you are a past president of the Scottish Law Society?’

  ‘I am, sir.’ That was something Danny didn’t know.

  ‘And you are a freeman of the City of Edinburgh?’

  ‘I have that honour, sir.’ Something else Danny didn’t know.

  ‘Would you please explain to the court, Mr Munro, what your relationship is with the accused?’

  ‘Certainly, Mr Redmayne. I had the privilege, as my father did before me, of representing Sir Alexander Moncrieff, the first holder of the baronetcy.’

  ‘Did you also represent Sir Nicholas Moncrieff ?’

  ‘I did, sir.’

  ‘And did you conduct his legal affairs while he was in the army, and later when he was in prison?’

  ‘Yes. He would telephone me from time to time while he was in prison, but the bulk of our work was conducted by lengthy correspondence.’

  ‘And did you visit Sir Nicholas while he was in prison?’

  ‘No, I did not. Sir Nicholas explicitly requested me not to do so, and I adhered to his wishes.’

  ‘When did you first meet him?’ asked Alex.

  ‘I knew him as a child when he was growing up in Scotland, but before the occasion when he returned to Dunbroath to attend his father’s funeral, I had not seen him for twelve years.’

  ‘Were you able to speak to him on that occasion?’

  ‘Most certainly. The two prison officers who were in attendance could not have been more considerate, and they allowed me to spend an hour with Sir Nicholas in private consultation.’

  ‘And the next time you met him was seven or eight weeks later, when he came to Scotland just after he had been released from Belmarsh prison.’

  ‘That is correct.’

  ‘Did you have any reason to believe that the person who visited you on that occasion was not Sir Nicholas Moncrieff ?’

  ‘No, sir. I had only seen him for one hour during the past twelve years, and the man who walked into my office not only looked like Sir Nicholas, but was wearing the same clothes as he had done on the previous occasion we’d met. He was also in possession of all the correspondence that had taken place between us over the years, and was wearing a gold ring bearing the family coat of arms as well as a silver chain and key that his grandfather had shown me some years before.’

  ‘So he was, in every sense, Sir Nicholas Moncrieff ?’

  ‘To the naked eye, yes, sir.’

  ‘Looking back over that time with the benefit of hindsight, did you ever suspect that the man you believed to be Sir Nicholas Moncrieff was in fact an impostor?’

  ‘No. In all matters he conducted himself with courtesy and charm, rare in such a young man. In truth he reminded me more of his grandfather than any other member of the family.’

  ‘How did you eventually discover that your client was not in fact Sir Nicholas Moncrieff, but Danny Cartwright?’

  ‘After he’d been arrested and charged with the offences that are the subject of this current trial.’

  ‘Can I confirm for the record, Mr Munro, that since that day, the responsibility for the Moncrieff estate has returned to your stewardship?’

  ‘That is correct, Mr Redmayne. However, I must confess that I have not conducted the day-to-day business with the flair that Danny Cartwright always displayed.’

  ‘Would it be right to say that the estate is in a stronger financial position now than it has been for some years?’

  ‘Without question. However, the trust has not managed to maintain the same growth since Mr Cartwright was sent back to prison.’

  ‘I do hope,’ interrupted the judge, ‘that you are not suggesting, Mr Munro, that that diminishes the severity of these charges?’

  ‘No, my lord, I am not,’ said Munro. ‘But I have discovered with advancing years that few things are entirely black or white, but more often different shades of grey. I can best sum it up, my lord, by saying that it was an honour to have served Sir Nicholas Moncrieff and it has been a privilege to work with Mr Cartwright. They are both oaks, even if they were planted in different forests. But then, m’lord, we all suffer in our different ways from being prisoners of birth.’

  Sir Matthew opened both his eyes and stared at a man he wished he’d known for many years.

  ‘The jury cannot have failed to notice, Mr Munro,’ continued Alex, ‘that you retain the greatest respect and admiration for Mr Cartwright. But with that in mind, they may find it hard to understand how the same man became involved in such a nefarious deception.’

  ‘I have considered that question endlessly for the past six months, Mr Redmayne, and have come to the conclusion that his sole purpose must have been to fight a far bigger injustice that had—’

  ‘Mr Munro,’ interrupted the judge sternly, ‘as you well know, this is neither the time nor the place to express your personal opinions.’

  ‘I am grateful, my lord, for your guidance,’ said Munro, turning to face the judge, ‘but I took an oath to tell the whole truth, and I presume you would not wish me to do otherwise?’

  ‘No, I would not, sir,’ snapped the judge, ‘but I repeat, this is not the appropriate place to express such views.’

  ‘My lord, if a man cannot express his honestly held views in the Central Criminal Court, perhaps you can advise me where else he is free to state that which he believes to be the truth?’

  A ripple of applause ran around the public gallery.

  ‘I think the time has come to move on, Mr Redmayne,’ said Mr Justice Hackett.

  ‘I have no more questions for this witness, my lord,’ said Alex. The judge looked relieved.

  As Alex resumed his seat, Sir Matthew leant across and whispered, ‘I actually feel a little sorry for dear Arnold. He must be torn between taking on this giant at the risk of being humiliated, or avoiding him altogether and leaving the jury with an impression that they will regale their grandchildren with.’

  Mr Munro didn’t flinch as he stared resolutely at Pearson, who was deep in conversation with his junior, both of them looking equally perplexed.

  ‘I don’t wish to hurry you, Mr Pearson,’ said the judge, ‘but is it your intention to cross-examine this witness?’

  Pearson rose even more slowly than usual, and did not tug the lapels of his gown or touch his wig. He glanced down at the list of questions he had forfeited his weekend to prepare, and changed his mind.

  ‘Yes, my lord, but I will not be detaining the witness for long.’

  ‘Just long enough, I hope,’ murmured Sir Matthew.

  Pearson ignored the remark, and said, ‘I am at pains to understand, Mr Munro, how a man as shrewd and experienced in legal matters as yourself could not have suspected even for a moment that his client was an impostor.’

  Munro tapped his fingers on the side of the witness box, and waited for as long as he felt he could get away with. ‘That’s easy to explain, Mr Pearson,’ he eventually said. ‘Danny Cartwright was at all times utterly plausible, though I confess that there was a single moment in our two-year-long relationship when he lowered his guard.’

  ‘And when was that?’ Pearson asked.

  ‘When we were discussing his grandfather’s stamp collection and I had cause to remind him that he had attended the opening of an exhibition of that collection at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington DC. I was surprised that he did not appear to recollect the occasion, which I found puzzling, as he was the only member of the Moncrieff family who had received an invitation.’

  ‘Did you not question him on the subject?’ demanded Pearson.

  ‘No,’ said Munro. ‘I felt that it would not have been appropriate at the time.’

  ‘But if you suspected, even for a moment, that this man was not Sir Nicholas,’ Pearson said, pointing a finger at Danny but not looking in his direction, ‘surely it was your responsibility to pursue the matter?’

&nbs
p; ‘I did not feel so at the time.’

  ‘But this man was perpetuating a massive fraud on the Moncrieff family, which you had made yourself a party to.’

  ‘I didn’t see it that way,’ responded Munro.

  ‘But as you were the custodian of the Moncrieff estate, surely it was your duty to expose Cartwright for the fraud he was.’

  ‘No, I didn’t consider that to be my duty,’ said Munro calmly.

  ‘Did it not alarm you, Mr Munro, that this man had taken up residence at the Moncrieffs’ London town house when he had no right to do so?’

  ‘No, it did not alarm me,’ replied Munro.

  ‘Were you not appalled by the thought that this outsider now had control of the Moncrieff fortune which you had guarded so jealously on behalf of the family for so many years?’

  ‘No, sir, I was not appalled by that thought.’

  ‘But later, when your client was arrested on charges including fraud and theft, did you not feel that you had been negligent in the pursuance of your duty?’ demanded Pearson.

  ‘I do not require you to advise me whether I have or have not been negligent in my duty, Mr Pearson.’

  Sir Matthew opened one eye. The judge kept his head down.

  ‘But this man had stolen the family silver, to quote another Scot, and you had done nothing to prevent it,’ said Pearson, his voice rising with every word.

  ‘No, sir, he had not stolen the family silver and I feel confident that Harold Macmillan would have agreed with me on this occasion. The only thing Danny Cartwright had stolen, Mr Pearson, was the family name.’

  ‘You can no doubt explain to the court,’ said the judge, having sufficiently recovered from Mr Munro’s previous onslaught, ‘the moral dilemma I am facing with your hypothesis.’

  Mr Munro turned to face the judge, aware that he had captured the attention of everyone in the court, including the policeman on the door. ‘Your lordship need not trouble himself with any moral dilemma, because I was interested only in the legal niceties of the case.’

  ‘The legal niceties?’ said Mr Justice Hackett, treading carefully.

  ‘Yes, m’lord. Mr Danny Cartwright was the sole heir to the Moncrieff fortune, so I was unable to work out what law, if any, he was breaking.’

  The judge leant back, happy to allow Pearson to be the one who sank deeper and deeper into the Munro mire.

  ‘Can you explain to the court, Mr Munro,’ asked Pearson in a whisper, ‘just what you mean by that?’

  ‘It’s quite simple really, Mr Pearson. The late Sir Nicholas Moncrieff made a will in which he left everything to Daniel Arthur Cartwright of twenty-six Bacon Road, London E3, with the sole exception of an annuity of ten thousand pounds, which he bequeathed to his former driver, a Mr Albert Crann.’

  Sir Matthew opened his other eye, not sure whether to focus on Munro or Pearson.

  ‘And this will was properly executed and witnessed?’ asked Pearson, desperately searching for a possible escape route.

  ‘It was signed by Sir Nicholas in my office on the afternoon of his father’s funeral. Aware of the gravity of the situation and my responsibility as the legal custodian of the family estate – as you have been so keen to point out, Mr Pearson – I asked Senior Officer Ray Pascoe and Senior Officer Alan Jenkins to witness Sir Nicholas’s signature in the presence of another partner of the firm.’ Munro turned to the judge. ‘I am in possession of the original document, m’lord, should you wish to study it.’

  ‘No, thank you, Mr Munro. I am quite happy to take your word,’ the judge replied.

  Pearson collapsed on to the bench, quite forgetting to say, ‘No more questions, my lord.’

  ‘Do you wish to re-examine this witness, Mr Redmayne?’ the judge enquired.

  ‘Just one question, my lord,’ said Alex. ‘Mr Munro, did Sir Nicholas Moncrieff leave anything to his uncle, Hugo Moncrieff ?’

  ‘No,’ said Munro. ‘Not a brass farthing.’

  ‘No more questions, m’lord.’

  An outbreak of hushed whispers filled the courtroom as Munro stepped out of the witness box, walked across to the dock and shook hands with the defendant.

  ‘My lord, I wonder if I might address you on a point of law,’ enquired Alex as Munro departed from the courtroom.

  ‘Of course, Mr Redmayne, but first I will have to release the jury. Members of the jury, as you have just heard, defence counsel has asked to discuss a point of law with me. It may not have any bearing on the case, but should it do so, I will fully brief you on your return.’

  Alex looked up at the packed public gallery as the jury left. His gaze settled on an attractive young woman whom he had noticed sitting at one end of the front row every day since the trial had begun. He had meant to ask Danny who she was.

  A few moments later the usher approached the bench and said, ‘The court has been cleared, m’lord.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Hepple,’ said the judge. ‘How can I assist you, Mr Redmayne?’

  ‘My lord, following the evidence given by the estimable Mr Munro, the defence would suggest that there is no case to answer on counts three, four and five, namely the occupation of the house in The Boltons, benefiting from the sale of the stamp collection, and the issuing of cheques on the Coutts bank account. We would ask that all these counts be dismissed, as it is self-evidently quite difficult to steal that which already belongs to you.’

  The judge took a few minutes to consider the argument before replying, ‘You make a fair point, Mr Redmayne. What is your view, Mr Pearson?’

  ‘I feel I should point out, m’lord,’ said Pearson, ‘that although it may well be the case that the defendant was the beneficiary of Sir Nicholas Moncrieff ’s will, there is nothing to suggest that he was aware of this at the time.’

  ‘My lord,’ countered Alex immediately, ‘my client was well aware of the existence of Sir Nicholas’s will, and of who the beneficiaries were.’

  ‘How is that possible, Mr Redmayne?’ asked the judge.

  ‘While he was in prison, m’lord, as I pointed out on a previous occasion, Sir Nicholas kept a daily diary. He recorded the details of his will on the day after he returned to Belmarsh following his father’s funeral.’

  ‘But that doesn’t prove that Cartwright was privy to his thoughts,’ pointed out the judge.

  ‘I would agree with you, m’lord, were it not for the fact that it was the defendant himself who pointed out the relevant passage for my junior’s consideration.’ Sir Matthew nodded.

  ‘That being the case,’ said Pearson, coming to the judge’s rescue, ‘the Crown has no objection to these charges being withdrawn from the list.’

  ‘I am grateful for your intervention, Mr Pearson,’ said the judge, ‘and agree that it would appear to be the proper solution. I will so inform the jury when they return.’

  Thank you, m’lord,’ said Alex. ‘I am obliged to Mr Pearson for his assistance in this matter.’

  ‘However,’ said the judge, ‘I’m sure you don’t need reminding, Mr Redmayne, that the most serious offence, that of escaping from prison while in custody, remains on the indictment.’

  ‘I am indeed aware of that, m’lord,’ said Alex.

  The judge nodded. ‘Then I shall ask the usher to bring back the jury so I can inform them of this development.’

  ‘There is a related matter, my lord.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Redmayne?’ said the judge, putting down his pen.

  ‘My lord, following Sir Hugo Moncrieff’s evidence, we have subpoenaed Mr Spencer Craig QC to appear before you as a witness. He has asked for your lordship’s indulgence as he is currently leading in a case taking place in another part of this building, and will not be free to appear before your lordship until tomorrow morning.’

  Several members of the press rushed out of the courtroom to phone their news desks.

  ‘Mr Pearson?’ said the judge.

  ‘We have no objection, m’lord.’

  ‘Thank you. When the jury returns, after I
have directed them on these two matters, I shall release them for the rest of the day.’

  ‘As you wish, my lord,’ said Alex, ‘but before you do so, may I alert you to a slight change in tomorrow’s proceedings?’ Mr Justice Hackett put his pen down a second time, and nodded.

  ‘My lord, you will be aware that it is a recognized tradition of the English Bar to allow one’s junior to examine one of the witnesses in a case, in order that they may gain from the experience and indeed be given the chance to advance their career.’

  ‘I think I can see where this is leading, Mr Redmayne.’

  ‘Then with your permission, m’lord, my junior, Sir Matthew Redmayne, will lead for the defence when we examine the next witness, Mr Spencer Craig.’

  The rest of the press corps bolted for the door.

  77

  DANNY SPENT another sleepless night in his cell at Belmarsh, and it wasn’t just Big Al’s snoring that kept him awake.

  Beth sat up in bed trying to read a book, but she never turned a page as her mind was more concerned with the ending of another story.

  Alex Redmayne didn’t sleep, because he knew that if they failed tomorrow, he would not be given a third chance.

  Sir Matthew Redmayne didn’t even bother to go to bed, but went over the order of his questions again and again.

  Spencer Craig tossed and turned as he tried to work out which questions Sir Matthew was most likely to ask, and how he could avoid answering them.

  Arnold Pearson never slept.

  Mr Justice Hackett slept soundly.

  Court number four was already packed by the time Danny took his place in the dock. He glanced around the courtroom, and was surprised to see a melee of senior barristers and solicitors attempting to find vantage points from which to follow proceedings.

  The press benches were filled with crime correspondents who for the past week had written hundreds of column inches, and had warned their editors to expect a lead story for tomorrow’s first editions. They couldn’t wait for the encounter between the greatest advocate since F. E. Smith and the most brilliant young QC of his generation (The Times), or the Mongoose versus the Snake (the Sun).