Chapter Three

First Day in Court

 

There were two others in the room.

‘Let me introduce everyone,’ said the speaker in his normal voice. ‘I’m Henry Blagrove. I live here. Professionally, you know. Expect you saw my name on the door. Been there seven years. Tell you more about myself later. You’ll learn about me, if nothing else, while you’re here. This is Peter Hallfield. He’s been a pupil six whole months. A confident young man. Though, between you and me, I can’t think why. And this is Charles Hepplewhite. He’s just finishing. Another month, isn’t it?’

‘How d’you do?’ said Roger generally. ‘What do I do next, please?’

‘Ye’ll soon learn, my dear fellow, ye’ll soon learn,’ said Henry. ‘It’s up to these chaps to say where you’re to sit. Nothing to do with me. I just come in here and waste your time when I’ve nothing to do of my own. Which, I may tell you in confidence, is pretty often.’

‘Would this do?’ said Charles, indicating part of a table in the middle of the room. ‘Here’s a chair.’

‘Thank you very much,’ said Roger. He sat down and put on the table the papers which Mr Grimes had given him. On the outside was written: ‘Pennythwaite v The Drum Bottling Co. (1948) Ltd. Instructions to Counsel to advise. 3 guas. Leatherhead, Frank and Compton, 4 Cockburn Buildings, EC4. Plaintiff’s Solicitors.’

Henry looked over Roger’s shoulder at the brief.

‘Oh, that,’ he said. ‘You’ll have some fun with that when you can understand it. Which is more than the Court of Appeal could. It’s been twice to them and once to the House of Lords. All on a point of pleading. Now we’re back where we started. Fortunately the Plaintiff’s got legal aid and the Defendants are in liquidation. I don’t suppose you understand what I’m talking about.’

‘Quite frankly,’ said Roger, ‘since I arrived here I haven’t understood a thing.’

‘Then you’ve got a chance,’ said Henry. ‘It’s people like Peter here who come to grief because they don’t know a thing either but they think they do. I’ve done my best for him. Still do, as you can see, but it’s a losing battle.’

‘Henry,’ said Peter, ‘just because you’re the most hopeless failure at the Bar and ought to have left it years ago, there’s no need to be persistently offensive. He doesn’t mean it, by the way,’ he added to Roger. ‘He just says things because he likes the sound of them. Does the same in Court. It amuses the judges, but they usually decide against him.’

‘Too true,’ said Henry. ‘They ought to keep someone like me in every set of chambers as an awful warning.’

‘Of what?’ asked Roger.

‘Of the result of talking too much and working too little.’

Roger soon learned all about Henry Blagrove, and one of the first things he found out was that Henry knew himself as well as any man can; that he knew, for example, that he could have succeeded at the Bar but probably never would. He was right in saying that he worked too little. He was incredibly lazy and, though sometimes he would do a great deal of work in one particular case, he would avoid hard work whenever possible. He loved the life and fortunately, or unfortunately, he had just enough work to enable him to stay at the Bar. He had a keen sense of humour and fun, he was highly intelligent, cheerful and generous, but he had no inclination for the sustained hard work which he knew was necessary to success. He had very keen perception and his judgment was excellent. He had very nearly a woman’s intuition and knew almost at once which way a judge’s mind was working – which occasionally was more than the judge did himself. He was indeed a tremendous asset to those of Mr Grimes’ pupils who were sensible enough to listen to him. He had learned very quickly the secrets of success at the Bar; he had learned the tricks of the trade; he knew the ethics; he was popular with his fellow barristers, he never broke the rules. And he was a first-class mimic, though from force of habit he was inclined to imitate Mr Grimes too often. Working so close to him he found it difficult not to do so, and was far too lazy to resist the temptation. Roger did not, of course, learn all Henry’s qualities at this first meeting, but one thing he found out very quickly. Henry loved to talk.

‘What would you like to know to begin with?’ he asked Roger, shortly after their introduction.

‘There’s so much. I don’t know where to begin.’

‘It really is rather extraordinary,’ said Henry, ‘that here you are, a fully-fledged barrister, licensed to lose anyone’s case for him and you haven’t had an hour of practical experience. Now a medical student has to watch a lot of butchery before he qualifies to dig for his first appendix. Yet your kind old Uncle George could send you a brief tomorrow. By the way, have you an Uncle George?’

‘I’m afraid not. I don’t think I know any solicitors.’

‘Well, it doesn’t really matter, because the ones you know are seldom much use. Whenever you meet a solicitor and he learns you’re at the Bar, he’ll murmur something about all his work being conveyancing or litigation not much coming his way. Still, at your present stage it’s just as well. When you go into Court for the first time you’ll have a nice white wig and a little theoretical knowledge, but, for the rest, you’ll be supported by the love of your parents and the admiration of your girlfriends. Which last, no doubt, you will do a good deal to cultivate, telling them the most thrilling stories of what you said to the judge and the judge said to you. You don’t mind me lecturing like this, I suppose?’

‘I’m most grateful.’

‘I wish you’d shut up for a moment,’ said Charles. ‘I strongly suspect I’m going to be left in front of Nettlefold and I’ve hardly looked at the thing.’

Before Roger could begin to understand the meaning of this remark, he heard similar noises to those which he had heard when Mr Grimes had entered chambers.

‘Heigh-ho,’ said Charles. ‘We’re off.’

The next moment the door opened and Alec rushed in. Without a word he picked up the papers in front of Charles and rushed off again saying, as he went out: ‘Court six first and then the Official Referee.’

‘Come on,’ said Charles, ‘we’re in this procession. You’d better make up your mind from the beginning what position you’ll take up. Grimeyboy will run all the way with Alec trotting behind him. Peter, when he comes, usually goes a short head behind Alec. I walk. What’ll you do?’

‘Which would you advise?’ said Roger to Henry. But before he could answer, Mr Grimes rushed past – while talking they had gone into the clerk’s room – put a hand on Roger and said: ‘Come on, my dear fellow, come on. Now ye’ll see what it’s all about.’ And down the stairs he rushed, pursued by Alec and the pupils. On this occasion Roger felt he had better keep up with his master. He caught up with him just before he crossed the Strand.

‘Should I wear my robes, d’you think?’ he asked.

‘Oh – yes, my dear fellow. Always wear your robes. That’s the way to get known. Have ye got them with ye?’

‘I’ve left them in chambers, I’m afraid.’

‘Go back for them, my dear fellow. Ye’ve plenty of time,’ said Mr Grimes as he rushed across the Strand with Alec hard on his heels.

Roger went hastily back to chambers to collect the bag containing his robes. It was a sack-like affair of royal blue cloth with his initials embroidered on it in white and it contained a wig in a box with ‘Roger Thursby Esq’ painted on the lid in gold letters, three pairs of white bands and a gown. When he had ordered them he had thought that he would prefer a red to a blue bag. The assistant had coughed deferentially.

‘I’m afraid that will come a little later, sir,’ he had said. ‘You start with a blue one.’

‘What are the red ones for?’

‘Well, sir, in a sort of way you get presented with a red bag, though it’ll cost you a guinea.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, a leader, sir, a QC, will give you one for doing well in a case in which he leads you. Then you give his clerk a guinea. I’ve never been able to think why. He doesn’t pay for the bag. I hope you’ll get one all right, sir.’

‘Supposing I don’t?’

The assistant had coughed. ‘Well, sir,’ he had said, ‘there are people who never get a red bag, but between you and me, sir, if you don’t get one in your first seven years, you won’t have made much headway.’

Roger found his robes and hurried across to the robing room. Mr Grimes had already gone, but he found Henry there.

‘It’s easy to get lost,’ he said. ‘I thought I’d come and guide you. It’s a bit hectic this morning.’

‘That’s awfully kind of you,’ said Roger and robed himself as quickly as he could. ‘Have you any idea what I’m going to hear?’ he asked.

‘Well, I believe the thing before Nettlefold is a running down case and then there’s a building reference before the Official Referee. Normally you’ll at least be able to look at the briefs before you go into Court.’

Henry led Roger to Queen’s Bench Court 6, where they were just in time to see the judge arrive. Then Henry returned to chambers.

‘Fisher against Mollet,’ called the associate, the bewigged official sitting below the judge, and Mr Grimes at once got up.

‘May it please your Ludship,’ he began. He was one of the few counsel who still used that pronunciation of Lordship. ‘I appear in this case for the plaintiff with my learned friend Mr Hepplewhite. My learned friend Mr Ferret appears for the defendant. Me Lud, this is a claim for damages for personal injuries.’

‘A running down case, is it, Mr Grimes?’ asked the judge.

‘Yes, me Lud, on the Watford by-pass. My client was driving very slowly along the main road when the defendant suddenly came out of a side turning with no warning at all and there was a collision.’

‘Why was your client going at such a slow speed? It is unusual on that road, to say the least of it.’

‘Oh, me Lud, he was in no particular hurry and, if I may say so, driving most carefully.’

‘So you say, Mr Grimes. But if he was going so slowly, one wonders why he couldn’t stop before the collision. But I suppose we’d better wait until it comes out in the evidence. Is the special damage agreed?’

‘Yes, me Lud, except for one item.’

‘What is the agreed amount?’

‘One hundred and twenty-five pounds, me Lud. That is for repairs to the car and loss of wages.’

‘What is the item not agreed?’

‘A pair of trousers, me Lud. I can’t think why my learned friend won’t admit it.’

‘Let me see,’ said the judge. ‘You’re claiming £7 10s. They were new, I suppose?’

‘Oh, yes, me Lud.’

‘You want to fight the pair of trousers, do you, Mr Ferret?’ asked the judge.

‘Well, my Lord, no bill has been produced nor have the trousers.’

‘Well, I hope we’re not going to spend too much time on them,’ said the judge. ‘If we do, one side or the other would be able to buy a whole suit with the amount expended in costs.’

‘Oh, me Lud, I shall be very short about them. But if my learned friend wants me to prove the trousers, I’ll have to prove them. I don’t see why my client should make him a present of them.’

‘I gather they wouldn’t be much use now, Mr Grimes. Now, don’t let’s waste any more time. Is there a plan?’

‘Yes, me Lud.’

‘Thank you. Is there an agreed medical report?’

‘Yes, me Lud.’

‘Thank you. Very well – perhaps you’ll call your first witness. I’ll read the report in due course.’

So began the first accident case which Roger had ever seen tried. After the second witness had been called, Roger noticed Alec hovering close to the row in which Mr Grimes and he were sitting. Suddenly, Mr Grimes whispered to him.

‘Come and sit this side of me, my dear fellow.’

Roger did as he was told. This brought Mr Grimes nearer to the end of the row. A moment later he had exchanged seats with Charles who now sat next to Roger. A moment later Mr Grimes was gone. There was a slight sound from the breeze caused by his gown as he rushed away through the door of the Court, followed by Alec.

‘Ought I to follow him?’ whispered Roger to Charles.

‘Do what you something well like, my dear chap,’ said Charles with unexpected asperity. ‘I’m left with this ruddy thing and I haven’t read half of it.’

‘Yes, Mr, Mr – er, Hepplewhite,’ said the judge, ‘do you wish to re-examine?’

Charles got to his feet and cleared his throat – a sure sign in an advocate of nervousness, varying from the slight to the verge-of-tears variety. In Charles’ case it was between the two. He no longer wanted to cry, only to run away. It is indeed somewhat of an ordeal for a young man in his first year at the Bar to be left with a case in the High Court. The fact that he has only looked at the brief and does not know it thoroughly does not make very much difference to the way he conducts it, but it certainly does not increase his self-confidence.

‘If you please, my Lord.’ He cleared his throat again and began: ‘My learned friend has asked you whether you hooted. Are you quite sure that you did?’

Mr Ferret immediately got up, looked sorrowfully at Charles, said to the judge: ‘Really, my Lord!’ and sat down.

Roger, who had a vivid imagination, wondered what on earth he himself would do. Obviously the judge and Mr Ferret knew what was happening though the glances they exchanged conveyed nothing to Roger. He felt very sorry for Charles and hoped that he’d never find himself in the same position. The judge looked in a kindly manner at the white wig of Charles and said: ‘Mr Ferret thinks that was rather a leading question, Mr Hepplewhite. I’m afraid I’m inclined to agree.’

A leading question, of course, thought Roger. But what on earth does one ask instead? Would ‘Did you hoot?’ be a leading question. Perhaps it would be better to say, ‘Did you or did you not hoot?’ A moment later Roger experienced a thrill of pleasure.

‘Did you or did you not hoot?’ asked Charles.

‘He has already said that he’s not really sure,’ said the judge. ‘Can you carry it much further than that?’

‘If your Lordship pleases,’ said Charles and sat down.

‘Don’t you want to ask him anything about the trousers, Mr Hepplewhite?’

‘The trousers, my Lord?’ said Charles unhappily. The judge appeared to have made it plain at the outset that he did not want to hear too much about the trousers. And now here he was inviting him to go into the matter. The fact was that the plaintiff had been somewhat knocked about in cross-examination over the trousers. The judge was not sure that he had done himself justice in his answers to Mr Ferret. The witness was a nervous young man and had been rather over-persuaded to agree to things to which the judge was not at all satisfied he intended to agree. A few well-directed questions in re-examination might have restored the position. But Charles was quite incapable of asking them.

‘The trousers, my Lord?’ he said again.

What on earth would I ask? thought Roger. This is a pretty nerve-wracking game. I wonder if I ought to have gone on the Stock Exchange.

Seeing that Charles was quite incapable of dealing with the matter, the judge himself proceeded to ask the necessary questions and a few others too, some of them leading. Mr Ferret grimaced. He couldn’t stop the judge asking leading questions and he saw what was going to happen. Until Mr Grimes returned, the judge was in effect going to conduct the case on behalf of the plaintiff and by the time Mr Grimes did return, he would have got so used to it that he might have become unconsciously in the plaintiff’s favour. Justice is a funny thing. It can never be perfect. Roger learned in due course that sometimes the poorer counsel wins a case just because he’s so bad that the judge has to step in. So what seemed unfair to the one side becomes unfair to the other.

After the running down case had been going on for some little time, Roger felt someone touch his arm. It was Alec.

‘Have you seen Mr Hallfield anywhere?’ he asked anxiously.

‘I haven’t, I’m afraid,’ said Roger.

‘Well, would you come with me, please, sir,’ said Alec. ‘It’s rather urgent.’

Roger went clumsily in front of Charles, brushing some of his papers to the floor in the process, got out of counsel’s row and was soon trotting after Alec through what seemed like endless corridors. He wanted to ask Alec all sorts of questions but the pace was too fast. Eventually they reached a Court.

‘In here, sir,’ said Alec.

Mr Grimes was on his feet addressing the Official Referee.

‘If your Honour pleases,’ he said, ‘I submit that in meal or in malt the onus of proof is on the defendant.’

‘Why meal or malt, Mr Grimes?’ said Sir Hugo Cramp, the Official Referee.

‘If your Honour pleases,’ said Mr Grimes with a deferential smile.

‘Yes, but why, Mr Grimes? You’re always saying in meal or in malt, and I can’t think why, I really can’t.’

‘Just a phrase, your Honour, just a phrase.’

‘Well, you’ve said it three times in half an hour. I made a note of it.’

Indeed, that was the only note that Sir Hugo had so far made. The stage for making notes had not yet arrived and he hoped that it never would – except for doodling and the like and making notes of Mr Grimes’ stock expression. The case ought to be settled. So should all building references. And in Sir Hugo’s Court they nearly always were. It was a good thing for everyone. It saved the parties expense and Sir Hugo time, and it resulted in the next litigants’ cases coming on earlier for trial – or settlement.

‘Take a note, my dear fellow,’ whispered Mr Grimes to Roger.

‘What in?’ asked Roger.

‘A notebook, my dear fellow – I’m sorry, your Honour. I was just arranging with my learned friend Mr – Mr Thorburn–’

‘Yes, yes,’ said Sir Hugo, ‘but these devilling arrangements should be made beforehand. I take it that I’m going to be deprived of the pleasure of hearing your further argument, Mr Grimes.’

‘Only for a very short time, your Honour. I’m on my feet before Mr Justice Nettlefold.’

Sir Hugo removed his spectacles and looked at Mr Grimes, with a puzzled air for a moment, ‘Oh, of course,’ he said. ‘The prophetic present. Well, I mustn’t keep you, Mr Grimes. Very good of you to have come at all and I’m sure your learned junior will fill your place admirably while you are away.’

‘It’s very good of your Honour,’ said Mr Grimes and with a few whispered words to Roger – ‘Ye’ll be all right, my dear fellow, just tell him the tale, just tell him the tale,’ Mr Grimes was gone.

It had all happened so quickly that Roger had difficulty in realizing that he, Roger Thursby Esq, barrister-at-law, aged twenty-one, called to the Bar two days previously, had been left in Court to represent one side or the other (he did not know which) in a building dispute before a judge called an Official Referee, of whom he had only vaguely heard. He looked round the Court. There was not a face he knew. Something inside his head began to go round and round and the Official Referee’s face started to approach him with alarming swiftness. He realized that he must pull himself together or faint. Sir Hugo addressed him: ‘Now that the wind has dropped, Mr Truefold, would you continue your learned leader’s submission?’ Roger wished he had fainted. He rose unsteadily, and looked blankly in front of him.

‘Your learned leader was saying,’ went on Sir Hugo who, without intending to be unkind, enjoyed this sort of scene immensely, ‘let me see – what was he saying? Something about malt, I believe. Strange, in a building dispute. Ah – no, I remember – he was submitting that the onus was on the other side. No doubt you would like to elaborate the submission?’

Roger continued to look blankly in front of him. It was not that the power of speech had left him, but he simply did not know what to say. He had sufficient presence of mind to realize that, if he started, ‘Your Honour’ and then paused, the Official Referee would, after waiting a decent interval, say, ‘Yes, Mr Truefold?’ and then he would either have to repeat, ‘Your Honour’ or lapse into silence again. It was better not to break it at all unless and until he could think of one sentence which meant something. The only sentence he would think of was: ‘I want to go home,’ and that wouldn’t do at all. It flashed through his mind that he could pretend to faint and he cursed himself for having resisted a moment before the genuine impulse to do so. But he had a natural inclination to tell the truth. This was sometimes embarrassing in his relations with Sally and Joy, but they were a long way from his mind at this particular moment. He remained standing and staring and thinking for the thoughts which would not come.

‘Come, Mr Trueband,’ said Sir Hugo affably, ‘it’s quite calm now. Shall we proceed?’

There was nothing for it. ‘Your Honour,’ he began – and then came the inevitable pause. Sir Hugo looked enquiringly at him, and so did counsel on the other side and, indeed, nearly everyone in the Court.

The pause had already passed the stage at which it became unbearable when Sir Hugo duly came in with the expected ‘Yes, Mr Truefold?’ to which Roger replied with the only words he had so far learned: ‘Your Honour,’ and again there was that terrible pause. Eventually Sir Hugo broke it with: ‘I suppose you say that the defendants, having admitted that the work was done and that it has not been paid for, it is for them to show that parts of it have not been properly done?’

With relief which he could not conceal, Roger added a word to his repertoire. ‘Yes, Your Honour,’ he said, and getting bolder – ‘I do.’ Then, ‘Your Honour,’ he added, in case the emphasis sounded rude.

‘An admirable submission, Mr Truelove,’ said Sir Hugo, ‘and very succinctly put. But,’ and he paused and frowned for a moment. ‘But,’ he went on, ‘isn’t it for the plaintiff in the first instance to give evidence that he has performed his contract – and can he do that without showing that the work was properly done?’

Roger’s boldness vanished. The only truthful answer he could make would have been: ‘I don’t know.’ But that wouldn’t do. So he adopted his first line of defence, of standing and staring, keeping a ‘Your Honour’ in reserve for use if necessary.

‘You can’t very well rely,’ went on Sir Hugo, ‘on the maxim omnia rite, etc – incidentally, I never can remember exactly how it goes.’

‘Omnia rite ac sollemniter esse acta praesumuntur,’ said Roger, thanking his patron saint for making him learn that legal maxim for his Bar examinations.

‘Thank you, Mr Tredgold,’ said Sir Hugo, ‘thank you very much. But you can’t rely on that maxim in a case such as the present, can you?’

At any rate, there was an answer to that which made sense.

‘I suppose not, Your Honour.’

‘Or can you, perhaps?’ went on Sir Hugo. ‘I’m not sure. Perhaps you could refer me to one or two of the authorities on the point.’

At this juncture, Roger’s opponent could not resist getting up and saying: ‘Surely, Your Honour, there is no presumption in law that a builder always does the right thing. If there were any presumption I should have thought it would have been the other way about.’

‘Well, to whom does the presumption apply, do you think?’ said Sir Hugo, mercifully directing his question to Roger’s opponent. ‘To Official Referees, perhaps?’

At that moment Alec came into Court, although Roger did not see him. Mr Grimes had managed to take over the reins from Charles in the running down case, not without a little obstruction from Mr Justice Nettlefold who disliked Mr Grimes’ habit of chopping and changing and who, besides, was now running cheerfully along with the plaintiff. ‘Mr Hepplewhite is deputizing very satisfactorily for you, Mr Grimes,’ the judge said quite untruthfully – except in the sense that, as the judge was doing all the work for the plaintiff, it was quite satisfactory from that gentleman’s point of view. However, eventually the judge allowed himself to be persuaded and Mr Grimes took over. The plaintiff did not do quite so well after that. This was no fault of Mr Grimes’. It is just the way things happen. Once Alec had seen Mr Grimes safely into Court before Mr Justice Nettlefold he returned to the Official Referee’s Court to see what was happening there, ready to send the junior clerk – who had now come over with him – sprinting round to fetch Mr Grimes if disaster seemed imminent.

‘Anyway,’ went on Sir Hugo, ‘isn’t there anything to be done in this case? Is there a Scott Schedule, Mr Truebland?’ and he turned pleasantly and enquiringly to Roger. Roger was still standing and the relief when the Official Referee started to address his opponent was so great that he had begun to feel the warm blood moving through his veins again. But at the mention of ‘Scott Schedule’ it froze again. What on earth was a Scott Schedule? He thought of Sir Walter Scott and Scott the explorer. He thought of Scotland. Perhaps Sir Hugo had said Scotch Schedule. Just as people sometimes have an insane urge to throw themselves in front of tube trains, Roger suddenly had an urge to say: ‘No, Your Honour, but I think there’s an Irish stew.’ That would be the end of his career at the Bar. Short and inglorious. But over. No more standing and staring and freezing and boiling. Which is worse, a cold sweat or a hot sweat? All these thoughts crammed themselves confusedly into his mind as he stood miserably waiting. Then he heard a voice from the ceiling of the Court: ‘A Scott Schedule, Your Honour?’ it said.

He knew that it was his voice really, but he did not feel himself speak and he never knew his voice sounded like that.

‘Yes, Mr Trueglove. Is there one? Or perhaps Mr Grimes ran away with it.’

Roger endeavoured to smile, but it was very difficult. After what seemed an age his opponent came to his rescue.

‘I’m afraid there isn’t, Your Honour,’ he said.

‘And why not?’ asked Sir Hugo. ‘How am I expected to try this case without a Scott Schedule? How many items are there in dispute?’

‘About fifty, Your Honour.’

‘Fifty,’ Sir Hugo almost screamed. ‘This is intolerable.’

‘It’s the plaintiff’s responsibility,’ said Roger’s opponent. ‘He has the carriage of the proceedings.’

‘I don’t care whose responsibility it is,’ said Sir Hugo feigning an indignation which he did not in the least feel. It was a first-class opportunity for browbeating the parties into settling the case. ‘It’s quite outrageous. You and your opponent had better put your heads together. I shall rise now for ten minutes and after that time I expect to be told that you and he are well on the way to a compromise. This is an expensive court, you know.’ He frowned for a moment and then looked cheerfully at counsel. ‘It doesn’t matter to me in the least,’ he went on, ‘whether you settle or not. If I don’t try this case, I shall try another. I’m just thinking of the parties.’

Roger looked enquiringly at his opponent, who gave him a faintly perceptible wink.

‘And in any event, I’m not going to try it without a Scott Schedule. The case will have to be adjourned anyway, but I’ll give you a chance to settle it first.’

Sir Hugo rose, bowed to counsel and withdrew to his room.

As soon as Alec had seen what was happening he had sent his junior at full speed to fetch Mr Grimes. Meantime, Roger’s opponent, a man named Featherstone, turned to him and said: ‘Well, my boy, there we are. What shall we do about it? I’ll give you a hundred and fifty. Not a penny more. You’d better take it, or you’ll only have the costs to pay. You know what the old boy’s like about costs. No Scott Schedule, indeed,’ and Mr Featherstone rubbed his hands. ‘No Scott Schedule, my dear boy. What d’you think of that?’ and he laughed heartily.

‘Would you very much mind telling me what a Scott Schedule is, please?’ asked Roger.

‘Haven’t the faintest idea, my dear boy. Never come to this Court if I can help it. But it’s something the old boy wants. No Scott Schedule, that’s bad, isn’t it? Well, what about it? Will you take a hundred and fifty?’

‘I think I’d better wait till Mr Grimes comes back,’ said Roger.

‘Wait till he comes back? We’ll be here all night. He’s probably on his way to the House of Lords at the moment, just giving a friendly look in to the Court of Appeal on his way. He won’t be back. Not on your life. No Scott Schedule, now I ask you!’

At that moment Roger heard with a mixture of relief and distaste a sound he recognized. It was Alec giving a loud suck.

‘Mr Grimes will be here in a minute. I’ve sent for him.’

‘What’d I better do?’ whispered Roger.

‘Just hang on, sir,’ said Alec. ‘Don’t agree to anything.’ Alec emphasized this last remark in the usual way.

Roger turned to his opponent.

‘Mr Grimes is on his way.’

‘I’ve heard that one before. Well – I hope he won’t keep us all night. P’raps he’s gone to fetch the Scott Schedule. You’re a pupil, I suppose?’

‘Yes.’

‘How d’you like it?’

‘I only started today. I find it a bit hair-raising, I’m afraid.’

‘You’ll soon get used to it with old Grimes. I wish he’d be quick. I’d like to go and have a cup of coffee. D’you know where he is as a matter of fact?’

‘He’s doing an accident case before Mr Justice Nettlefold.’

‘Is he, by Jove? Well – he won’t let him go.’

At that moment in Queen’s Bench Court 6 Mr Grimes became aware that his junior clerk was making urgent signs to him. He was in the middle of cross-examining a witness.

‘I had no chance of avoiding the crash,’ said the witness.

‘So that’s what ye say, is it? We shall see,’ said Mr Grimes. ‘We shall see.’

‘I wish you wouldn’t make these comments,’ said the judge. ‘I know they don’t mean anything and that we may never see and that, as there isn’t a jury, it doesn’t much matter whether we do see or we don’t, but cross-examination should be used for asking questions and asking questions only. You can make your comments when you address me.’

‘If your Ludship pleases. So ye couldn’t avoid the accident, couldn’t ye?’

‘No.’

‘Why didn’t ye put on your brakes?’

‘I did.’

‘Oh, ye did, did ye? Then why didn’t ye stop?’

‘I did.’

‘Oh, ye did, did ye? Then why did the accident happen?’

‘Because the plaintiff ran into me.’

‘Oh, he ran into ye, did he? I suggest ye ran into him.’

‘It was the other way round. The damage to the cars shows it.’

‘Oh, it does, does it? We shall see,’ said Mr Grimes. ‘We shall see.’

‘Mr Grimes,’ began the judge, but he was too late. Mr Grimes was on his way out.

A minute later he came, panting, into the Official Referee’s Court.

‘At last,’ said Featherstone.

‘I’m so sorry, my dear fellow,’ said Mr Grimes. ‘So sorry to have kept ye. Now, what’s it all about?’

‘The old boy wants us to settle.’

‘Oh, he does, does he? Well, that’s simple enough, my dear fellow. You just pay and it’s all over.’

‘I’ll pay you something.’

‘That’s very good of ye, my dear fellow, very good of ye. Ye’ve had all the work done and ye’ll pay something! Ye wouldn’t like us to build another house for ye as well?’

‘Well, you’ll need to, I should think. This one’s falling down already.’

‘Is it really, my dear fellow? Funny your clients are still living in it then.’

‘Come on, let’s go outside. We’ve got to settle it somehow. The old boy isn’t going to try it.’

The upshot of it all was that eventually the defendant agreed to pay Mr Grimes’ client £300 and all his costs, and there was then a rush back to the other case, where they arrived just in time to find the judge rising for lunch.

‘Come on, my dear fellow,’ said Mr Grimes. ‘Come and get a bite while there’s time. So good of ye to have helped me. Thank ye so much.’ He led Roger at a fast trot to the restaurant in the crypt at the Law Courts. There Mr Grimes helped himself to a plate of meat and salad, asked for a cup of coffee and took it to a marble-topped table which was no different from any others, except that it bore a notice: ‘The seats at this table, are reserved for Counsel from 12 o’clock until 2 o’clock.’

Roger felt very important sitting at such a table and even the ordinary nature of the food and the noise made by Mr Grimes in getting rid of his as fast as possible did not spoil his pleasure. Between the bites and swallows, Mr Grimes asked Roger if he thought he’d learned anything and how he liked his first morning. Before Roger could reply, he went on to criticize Queen’s Bench Judges, Official Referees and his opponents in each of the cases, finally ending up his criticisms with the pronouncement: ‘But there you are, my dear fellow, they will do these things, they will do these things.’

Five minutes later they were off again, this time at only a very fast walking pace. They went to a place known as the ‘Bear Garden’ where Mr Grimes had a summons to dispose of before a judicial officer called a Master. It was to be heard by Master Tiptree. Before they went into the Master’s room, Mr Grimes was joined by Alec and the clerk from the solicitors instructing him. Mr Grimes greeted the clerk most affably and then proceeded to say something to him in a low voice. Roger could only catch that it began with: ‘I don’t mind telling you, my dear fellow – ’ but what he didn’t mind telling him, Roger never heard. Fortunately they did not have to wait long and soon they were in front of Master Tiptree. Roger knew from his Bar examinations that various applications in the course of an action were made to a Master, but he only had a slight theoretical knowledge of such matters. A Master appearing in a question in an examination paper is very different from an actual live one sitting in his room.

‘This is an application for discovery of specific documents, Master,’ began Mr Grimes.

‘Where’s the affidavit?’ asked the Master.

‘Oh, Master, before we come to the affidavit, I’d like to tell you something about the action.’

‘I dare say you would, Mr Grimes, but I want to see the affidavit.’

‘If you please, Master.’

Mr Grimes obtained a sheet of paper from the solicitor’s clerk and handed it to the Master.

He glanced at it, threw it back at Mr Grimes and said: ‘What d’you call that, Mr Grimes?’

Mr Grimes looked at the offending document. ‘I’m so sorry, Master. It’s the wrong affidavit.’

‘I am only too well aware of that, Mr Grimes. I want the right one.’

‘Here it is, Master. I’m so sorry.’

Mr Grimes handed another affidavit to the Master, who read it quickly.

‘This won’t do, Mr Grimes. It doesn’t say the alleged missing document relates to the matters in question.’

‘Oh, but Master, if you’ll be good enough to look at the pleadings, you’ll see it must be material.’

‘I dare say, Mr Grimes, but Order 31, Rule 19A is quite definite and has not been complied with.’

‘Oh, but Master–’

‘It’s no good saying, “Oh, but Master,” Mr Grimes. You know as well as I do your affidavit is defective. D’you want an adjournment or shall I dismiss the summons?’

Mr Grimes’ opponent then intervened.

‘Master, I ask you to refuse an adjournment and dismiss the summons.’

‘I dare say you do, but I’m not going to. You can have the costs thrown away.’

‘But Master–’

‘I’ve made up my mind. You can go to the judge if you don’t like it. Now Mr Grimes, have you made up your mind?’

‘Yes, please, Master. I ask for an adjournment to put the affidavit in order.’

‘Very well.’

The Master started to write out his Order.

Mr Grimes whispered to Roger: ‘Just stay and take the Order, my dear fellow,’ and without another word he was off towards Mr Justice Nettlefold’s Court.

The Master wrote for a few moments. When he looked up he saw that Mr Grimes had gone.

‘Pupil?’ he asked Roger.

‘Yes, Master.’

‘How long?’

‘Today.’

‘Order 31, Rule 19A mean anything to you?’

‘Not a thing, Master.’

‘I should look it up when you get back to chambers, if I were you. It’s the only way to learn the practice. You can’t learn it in a vacuum. But if you look up everything that happens, you’ll get a reasonable knowledge of it in time.’

‘Thank you very much, Master.’

‘Not at all. Good luck to you.’

Roger left the Master’s room with the solicitor’s clerk. ‘Never heard Master Tiptree so agreeable,’ said the clerk. ‘He threw a book at me once.’

With difficulty Roger found his way back to the Court. The judge was giving judgment in favour of Mr Grimes’ client. No sooner was it over than there was a frantic dash back to chambers, where Mr Grimes had several conferences.

Charles and Roger went into the pupils’ room together. Henry was there reading The Times.

‘Where’s Peter?’ asked Charles.

‘He went off to the Old Bailey,’ said Henry. ‘Said building cases weren’t in his line. Gosh!’ he went on. ‘You don’t mean to tell me Thursby got landed with it instead?’

‘He did,’ said Charles, ‘but he’s still breathing.’

‘Poor fellow,’ said Henry. ‘Tell me about it in your own unexpurgated Billingsgate.’

Roger told him.

‘Well, well, well,’ said Henry. ‘He wins one case and settles the other and, knowing Grimeyboy, his client won’t have lost on the deal. What I say is fiat justitia ruat Grimes, or, as the poet says:

“So justice be done,

Let Grimeyboy run.”’