Chapter Nineteen

The Old Bailey

 

In due course the conspiracy case came on for trial at the Old Bailey. It was likely to take a fortnight or three weeks and in consequence to interfere a good deal with Mr Grimes’ other work. Roger had considerable qualms. He felt sure he would be left to do part of it. Peter, on the other hand, would have been delighted to be left with it. It was his ambition to stand up at the Old Bailey and say something, and he had the doubtful advantage that he would never realize how badly he had said it. He said to Roger that, if Grimeyboy went away in the middle, he thought that, as he was senior to Roger, he ought to have the chance of taking over before him.

‘Of course,’ said Roger and hoped that was how it would be.

‘Since you came here,’ said Peter, ‘he hardly ever seems to use me. I don’t think he likes me somehow.’

I wonder if that is it, thought Roger, or if I really am better. It was an interesting day for Roger when he went for the first time to the Old Bailey. He was surprised at the smallness of the Courts. But the solemnity was there all right. He tried to visualize the murderers and other criminals who had stood in the dock. This was the Court in which, Henry had told him, five blackmailers had once stood to receive their sentences from the then Lord Chief Justice. The Lord Chief Justice awarded the first man he sentenced eight years penal servitude (as it was then called), the second ten years, the third twelve. It must have been obvious to the fifth man, the ringleader, what the judge was working up to, and slowly and methodically he worked up to it.

‘And as this is the worst case of its kind I have ever tried,’ he began in sentencing the ringleader, ‘the sentence of the Court is that you be kept in penal servitude for life.’

‘I’m told,’ Henry had said, ‘that it was an artistic, though not a pleasant performance.’

This, too, was the Court where the man who was said to have been a sort of Jekyll and Hyde had stood to receive his sentence.

‘Counsel has argued eloquently on your behalf,’ said the judge, ‘that you are really two people, one very good and the other very bad. As to that, all I can say is that both of you must go to prison.’

Roger would have been spared some unnecessary worry if he had known that Mr Grimes had given his personal undertaking to be present the whole time throughout the case, and Alec had charged a fee to compensate for the results of complying with such an undertaking. Mr Grimes was there all the time, and Roger had the advantage of seeing him hold innumerable conferences on other matters with solicitors and managing clerks in the corridors of the Old Bailey. In the middle of a case involving theft of machinery, he discussed among other things a libel action brought by a politician, a claim for damages for being caught up in a sausage machine, an action by a householder against his next-door neighbour for nuisance by barking dogs, a claim for breach of contract on the sale of fertilizers, an action for breach of promise, some bankruptcy proceedings, an appeal to the Privy Council and a host of other things. A temperamental recording machine which decided not to record from time to time would have produced some surprising results if it had been placed by the side of Mr Grimes eating a sandwich on a bench in the Old Bailey, while client after client came and told his tale of woe, received expert advice and went away rejoicing. And Mr Grimes never put a foot wrong. A lesser man might have confused one case with another. But not he. Mr Grimes treated each client as though he were his only client and as though his case were his only case.

‘Yes, my dear fellow. Don’t ye worry, my dear fellow, that’s quite all right. Just write and tell them the tale, my dear fellow. Goodbye, bye, bye.’

‘Dear, dear, dear. You don’t say, my dear fellow, dear, dear, dear, you don’t say. Well, we’ll soon put a stop to those goings on. Ye wait, my dear fellow, ye’ll see. It’ll be quite all right, quite all right. Goodbye, bye, bye.’ And so on and so on, punctuated by bites of sandwich. Do this, don’t do that, try for this but take that if necessary, apply to the judge, go to the Master, issue a writ, pay into Court, appeal, don’t appeal, it’s a toss up, my dear fellow, we can but try; dear, dear, dear, they will do these things, my dear fellow, they will do these things.

And so back into Court, stomach full of ill-bitten, undigested sandwich, head, Roger would have thought, full of dogs, sausages and fertilizers – but not at all. Mr Grimes examined a difficult witness as though he had been doing nothing else but think about his evidence. Roger was astonished at the number of watertight compartments there must be in a busy barrister’s mind. But then, I suppose, he said to himself, it’s exactly the same with everyone’s job. I don’t imagine a surgeon often takes out the wrong part because he’s confused two cases or that a doctor, visiting a case of measles, enquires about the big toe, which belongs next door.

The case went on day after day. Roger took voluminous notes, Peter took a few, and from time to time when he found that his services were not going to be required, wandered into the other Courts where something more interesting might be happening. Once while Peter was away, the judge said: ‘Excuse me a moment, Mr Grimes. A prisoner wants a dock defence.’

‘Put up Arthur Green,’ said the clerk and Mr Green was brought up into the dock.

‘You may choose whom you wish,’ said the judge.

‘That one, please, my Lord,’ said Mr Green, and pointed to Mr Grimes.

‘I’m afraid Mr Grimes is engaged on a case,’ said the judge.

‘I thought you said I could choose whom I wish, my Lord,’ said Mr Green. ‘I want him.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said the judge. ‘Mr Grimes can’t be in two Courts at once.’

‘I don’t want him in two Courts at once, my Lord,’ said Mr Green. ‘Just in mine.’

‘Now, don’t waste time,’ said the judge. ‘You can’t have him, though no doubt Mr Grimes is suitably flattered. Now, choose someone else.’

‘Oh, well, I’ll have him,’ and Mr Green pointed to counsel defending the chief conspirator.

‘I’m sorry,’ said the judge. ‘He’s engaged too.’

‘I thought you said–’ began the man.

‘I know, I know,’ said the judge. ‘But you can’t have someone who’s engaged on a case.’

‘How am I to know who’s engaged on a case and who isn’t, my Lord? Perhaps you could ask the gentlemen who aren’t for hire to cover up their flags, my Lord.’

‘Now, don’t be impertinent,’ said the judge quite genially. ‘I’m sorry about this. Perhaps those members of the Bar who are not engaged in the case would be good enough to stand up.’

Three old, three middle-aged and three young men sprang to their feet with alacrity. This was a race in which youth had no advantage over age. Indeed a middle-aged man was first, though he ricked his back in the process. Roger remained seated.

‘Get up, my dear fellow,’ said Mr Grimes. ‘Ye never know. Good experience for ye.’

So Roger got up a little time after the others, just as Mr Green had come to much the same conclusion as the old lag in Henry’s story. The apparent reluctance which Roger had to join the race appealed to Mr Green.

‘Him, my Lord, please,’ said Mr Green, pointing to Roger.

‘Mr – Mr–’ began the judge, and then made a noise, half grunt, half swallow, three consonants and a couple of vowels. It was a work of art and had been cultivated by him over the years. It really sounded like a name and though no one could say what it was, no one could say what it was not. Whether a name began with a vowel or a consonant or a diphthong, the sound made by the judge was not unlike it, and, as he looked hard at its owner during the process, it never failed.

‘Will you undertake this defence, please?’ said the judge.

‘If your Lordship pleases.’

Roger wondered what was the next move.

‘Go and see him,’ volunteered his next-door neighbour.

‘Now?’ asked Roger.

‘Of course.’

‘Where do I see him?’

‘In the cells. Bow to the judge and go into the dock and down the stairs. Quick. The old boy’s waiting for you.’

Roger looked up and saw that his informant was right. ‘Don’t disturb yourself unduly,’ said the judge. ‘This case is going to last for weeks, anyway. What difference does an extra half hour make?’

Roger blushed. ‘I’m so sorry, my Lord,’ he said.

The judge gave him a friendly smile.

Roger walked into the dock rather self-consciously and went down the stairs which led from inside it to the cells below. He was shown to a room in which he could interview Mr Green who was promptly brought to him.

‘Afternoon, sir,’ said Mr Green.

‘Good afternoon,’ said Roger.

‘Funny weather for the time of year,’ said Mr Green. ‘Felt like thunder this morning.’

‘Yes, it did,’ said Roger.

‘But there,’ said Mr Green, ‘they will do these things.’

‘What!’ said Roger.

‘He defended me twenty years ago,’ said Mr Green. ‘I haven’t forgotten. Nearly got me off too. If it hadn’t been for the old judge he would have too. Dear, dear, dear. Now we’re starting to look back. And that won’t do. We must look forward, mustn’t we? This your first case?’

‘Not quite,’ said Roger.

‘That’s all right,’ said Mr Green. ‘I’ll tell you what to do. It’s easy, dead easy. I’d have done it myself but it looks better to have a mouthpiece. Can you sing?’ he added.

‘I don’t know quite what that’s got to do with it,’ said Roger.

‘Ah!’ said Mr Green knowingly, ‘but you haven’t been at it as long as I have. There’s a lot of things you don’t understand now, aren’t there?’

‘Yes,’ said Roger. ‘I’m afraid there are.’

‘Well, now that’s agreed – can you sing?’

‘No, I can’t, as a matter of fact.’

‘Never mind,’ said Mr Green. ‘As long as I know one way or the other. Can’t take any chances. Forewarned is forearmed. Many a mickle makes a muckle. It’s an ill wind and so on and so forth. I’m not keeping you, I hope?’

‘I’m here to defend you,’ said Roger. ‘My time’s your time. My services, such as they are, are at your disposal.’

‘That’s a pretty speech,’ said Mr Green. ‘Can you make lots of those?’

Roger did not answer.

‘All right,’ said Mr Green. ‘You win. Cut the cackle and come to the hosses. Now, I’ll tell you what we’ll do. I’ve got it all laid on.’

‘But what are you charged with?’ asked Roger.

‘Oh, that!’ said Mr Green scornfully. ‘It’s almost an insult. But I suppose it’s like everything else these days. Going down. You’ve only got to deration butter and all the places serve margarine.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Roger.

‘Now, look,’ said Mr Green. ‘Have you ever seen an indictment before?’

Roger had not and said so. He would have admitted it anyway, but he made the admission a second before he realized that it was a pretty odd system under which a young man who had never seen an indictment could be employed to defend somebody who was charged upon one. Roger had read the charges in Mr Grimes’ conspiracy case, but for some reason he had never actually seen the indictment or a copy of it.

‘Well, now, look – this is an indictment – or it’s supposed to be.’

He produced a typewritten foolscap document. All over it were pencil remarks made by himself.

‘I call it an impertinence,’ went on Mr Green. ‘Do you know that I was once charged on an indictment containing thirty-three counts? Thirty-three. Now that’s not bad, eh?’

‘What happened?’ asked Roger.

‘Never mind what happened. That’s not the point. But it’s treating a chap with respect to bring in thirty-three counts. Shows you’re frightened you might miss him here and there. Can’t afford to take chances with him. I’ve had twenty-five, twenty and never less than ten or twelve. Oh, yes, I once had seven. And now look at this – I ask you – is it fair? Is it reasonable? I’m not so young as I was, I’m entitled to a bit of respect, aren’t I? One count – one solitary, miserable count. They must think I’ve come down in the world. It hurts. That’s what it does. If you’ve got a nice lot of counts to deal with, you’ve got something to fight. But this – this – it takes all the stuffing out of a man. I tell you – I had a good mind to plead Guilty and be done with it. One count! Two can play at that game. If they won’t do the right thing, why should I? I’ve never pleaded Guilty in my life, but I tell you, I came as near doing it this time as I ever did. And then I remembered it was Ascot next week. So that wouldn’t do. But if it hadn’t been, I tell you – I’d have cut the ground from under their feet. Guilty, I should have said. That would have shaken them. There they are – counsel, solicitors, police, witnesses, judge, jury, ushers, flowers, herbs, spectators – everyone – and I say Guilty. I bet the clerk wouldn’t have believed it. What was that? he’d have said. I’d have had a game with him. Not Guilty, I should have said. Oh, I thought you said Guilty, he’d have said. Yes, I’d have said, I did. Well, which is it, he’d have said, Guilty or Not Guilty. You choose, I should have said. I hate these parlour games. One of these days a judge will say – they look at TV all right, oh, yes they do, whatever they say – one of these days a judge will say – will the next prisoner sign in, please?’

‘Now, look, Mr Green,’ said Roger. ‘I know I’m very new to the Bar, but you’re paying me to help you. Hadn’t you better tell me about the case? I love to hear your views on these other matters, but after all, if you want to go to Ascot next week the case is more important.’

‘You’ll do well, sir,’ said Mr Green. ‘You think of essentials. Ascot it is. I’ve never missed an Ascot yet – except when – well now I’m going back into past history. Dear, dear, dear. Now, let’s get down to brass tacks. No beating about the bush. All fair and above board. In for a penny, in for a pound. Who laughs last, laughs loudest. You can’t sing, I think you said?’

‘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.’”’