At first Mr Hussick was sceptical about the telephone call from an inquiry agency he had never heard of, and one with a ridiculous name at that, but the excitement at the other end of the line communicated itself to him during the conversation, and when he had finished talking he picked up the receiver again and rang Magnus Newton who turned out to be attending a legal dinner in London. Newton was not pleased to be called away to the telephone, but when he heard what Hussick had to say he agreed to leave after the loyal toast and before the speech. He was in fact not altogether sorry to miss the speech, which was to be given by a retired Lord of Appeal renowned for his prolixity. The four of them met at eleven o’clock that night in Newton’s chambers.
Clarence Newhouse was a blustering red-faced man who wore a Guards tie. Newton listened to him for a couple of minutes and then said, ‘This is the man who got the information? Then I’d like to have the story from him.’
Dimmock had been sitting in a corner, overwhelmed by the occasion. The visit to a barrister’s chambers late at night, the pat on the back from the Chief and his warm words about good work, and now this request that he should take the centre of the stage – what a tale he would have to tell the wife tomorrow. He moved forward from his corner seat into the circle of light cast by Newton’s desk lamp. As he did so he sneezed.
‘You’ve got a cold,’ Newton said accusingly. He produced a little inhaler from his jacket and sniffed noisily up each nostril. ‘Well?’
If there was one thing that Dimmock knew he could do, it was to make a clear and succinct report, and afterwards he felt that on this evening he had really excelled himself. The great man lighted a cigar and offered the box to the rest of them (the Chief took one and lit up, but Dimmock felt that it would have been presumptuous in him to smoke at the same time as the Chief), but his keen piggy little eyes looked steadily at Dimmock even while the mouth puffed smoke from its fat tube. When he had finished Dimmock waited in awe to hear what the experts would say about it. The Chief began to expand on all the trouble that had been taken by the agency, but he was cut short by the solicitor, Mr Hussick, whose eyebrows seemed to be climbing up into his scalp.
The great man opened his mouth. What would he say?
‘Take anything for those colds, do you? Is it on your chest? Or just the nose?’
‘Nose. And throat.’
‘This may help.’ He wrote something on a piece of paper, pushed it across the desk. ‘Get it made up. Use it myself.’
For a moment Dimmock thought he must be light-headed, and that he was really in a doctor’s surgery. Then Newton continued. ‘This woman, Russell, she’ll give evidence in Court? And the boatyard man, what’s his name, Clegg?’
‘Clynes,’ said Mr Hussick.
‘I’ve got their signed statements.’ Dimmock drew the papers from his briefcase.
‘That was intelligent.’ Dimmock glowed. Newton’s words seemed to be a justification of his whole career.
‘All our operatives are intelligent,’ the Chief said with a jolly laugh. Newton swivelled to direct on him a gaze that was by no means wholly friendly.
‘Who’s paying you?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t reveal that.’ The jolly laugh was slightly uneasy. ‘Professional ethics.’
‘Never mind, doesn’t matter.’
‘I believe my employer is – ah – a friend of the accused.’
‘Didn’t know he had any friends.’ To Dimmock’s bewilderment Mr Hussick and the Chief laughed heartily as though this was a good joke. ‘We had a firm on to this and they turned up nothing, eh, Hussick.’ Mr Hussick nodded. He seemed to find this amusing too. ‘Must remember you next time. But insist that they put Mr Dimmock on to it, Hussick, insist on that.’
Newton’s hand fell like an accolade on to Dimmock’s shoulder as he said that they would need him also in Court. That was an exciting prospect, but Dimmock afterwards thought of the hour he had spent in those chambers, rather than the session in Court, as the crowning point of his career. He had the prescription made up, and although it had no effect upon his cold he treasured the piece of paper to the end of his life.
When they had gone Newton and Hussick got down to it. After Clynes and Sarah Russell had given evidence it would be necessary to recall Mrs Foster, and notification of this must be given to the prosecution. Then there was the matter of serving a subpoena on these two new witnesses. Hussick nodded and smiled, nodded and smiled. Newton’s cigar was out before they had finished.
‘About Mrs Foster,’ he said at the end. ‘She’s still going to be a tough nut. She was in Court today. I don’t want her there tomorrow.’
‘I’ll see to it.’
But there was no need for him to see to it.