Ways and Means (5 page)

We are obliged for your letter of the 1st instant on which we have taken our client’s instructions. He notes that your clients now wish to apologize and to see him with a view to compromising the matter. Without at present inquiring into the reasons for your clients’ sudden change of front, our client desires us to say that he will be quite prepared to meet a ‘without prejudice’ deputation of the defendants consisting of the following: General Sir Bragge Purbrick, His Honour Judge Strachan, Dr Sainsbury and the Reverend Maitland Temperley. We should emphasize that he will not be prepared to discuss the matter with anyone except these four gentlemen and, if this is not satisfactory to your clients, the matter must take its normal course.

Basil had foreseen that neither the Vicar nor the Judge would have come willingly.

A meeting was duly arranged and, on the day before, a consultation was held of all twenty-two defendants. The General, as usual, took the chair.

‘The object of this meeting,’ he said, ‘is to see how much each of us can pay. We shall assume the worst and if, as I hope, that does not happen, the amounts will be scaled down accordingly. Any objections to this course?’

There were none.

‘Very well, then,’ went on the General. ‘Let us assume that the damages are £20,000.’ A shudder ran through his audience. ‘That was the maximum figure mentioned by Mr Twigg — a man, if I may say so, after my own heart. Now, there are twenty-two of us, but our financial position varies and I think that each man should give as he is able. Take the Judge, for instance. Can you manage

£500?’

‘£500,’ cried the Judge. ‘A County Court Judge can’t spare that out of his salary.’

‘A County Court Judge can try,’ put in the doctor.

The Judge did not laugh. It was the first time that a quotation from the source in question had fallen fiat.

‘Well — how much, then?’ asked the General.

‘I haven’t anything to spare at all,’ said the Judge. ‘I find it difficult to make ends meet as it is. I’ve a wife, and two children at school. I’m paying £250 a year on my house, £100 insurance premiums — I’m overdrawn at the bank. I really don’t know what I can do.’

The Judge began to have even more sympathy than usual for the debtors who appeared before him and said they were unable to pay.

‘What about your capital position?’

‘My capital position? Look here, I’m not going to be cross-examined as though I were in the witness box asking for time to pay.’

‘But my dear George,’ said the General, ‘there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Think of the cases which came before you when we were in Court.’

‘I prefer not to,’ said the judge. ‘I might manage a couple of hundred pounds, but with great difficulty.’

‘Very well, then, that will do for a start,’ said the General. ‘Judge Strachan, £200. Now, Dr Sainsbury?’

‘£500.’

‘Good. Nicholas?’

‘£250.’

‘Right. Henry?’

‘£3,000, if necessary.’

So they went on and, in the end, after a few adjustments, they reached the figure of £20,000.

‘Excellent,’ said the General. ‘Now we can go into battle knowing we have the weapons.’

‘I’m not at all sure that I’m liable at all,’ said the Judge. ‘I only quoted a couple of lines of Gilbert. Everyone knows I’m always doing that.’

‘Yes, but what lines? Anyway, Mr Twigg had no doubt about it.’

‘Did you ask him about my case specifically?’

‘No, I can’t say we did, but he and Stewart had all the papers and both said there was no defence to any of the actions.’

‘Well, I think I shall go up to Town and see an old friend of mine at the Bar. If I’m liable, of course I’ll stand in with you and, if absolutely necessary, produce £200. But if I’m not liable I don’t see why I should.’

‘Fair enough,’ said the General. ‘When will you let me know the result?’

‘I’ll go up tomorrow and phone you in the evening.’

The next day Judge Strachan managed to obtain an interview with a well-known junior at the Bar, Humphrey Maynard.

‘Hullo, old boy,’ said Maynard, ‘what brings you to Town? Not enough judgement debtors in the country?’

‘I want some advice.’

‘Point of law too difficult for you, I suppose, and you’ve reserved judgement?’

‘Nothing of the kind. It’s a personal matter.’

‘Oh dear. Not driving under the influence, I hope.’

‘It isn’t funny at all, old man.’

‘Oh — I’m sorry. What is it?’

The Judge gave Maynard the details and then asked: ‘D’you think I’ve any defence?’

‘Well, I don’t do much libel, you know, and if Twigg and Stewart say you haven’t, I shouldn’t have thought you had.’

‘But I was only making a sort of joke. I didn’t say a word against him till then.’

‘I know, but how were your words understood? That’s the test, isn’t it? Did they make people think you were falling into line with the others and calling the fellow a crook? Look here, if you like, and don’t mind my telling him, I’ll ask Clapson to come in. He knows all about these things.’

‘Do,’ said the judge. He would have told his trouble to the whole of the Bar if it would have done any good.

‘Ask Mr Clapson if he could spare a moment,’ said Maynard on the internal telephone to his clerk. ‘Thank you.’

A few minutes later Clapson came in. The Judge and he were not personally known to one another, Clapson’s practice only having developed after the Judge had gone to the Bench. As soon as they were introduced, however, ‘Oh dear,’ said Clapson, ‘I’m afraid I know what you’re here for, Judge. I’ll have to go out again. I’m afraid I’m just settling a Statement of Claim against you.’

‘Oh, good Lord,’ said the Judge.

‘Slander action. Twenty-two defendants. That’s it, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, I’m afraid so. I just came in to see what Maynard thought my chances were.’

‘Well, Judge, if you really want me to, I don’t mind telling you what I think,’ said Clapson. ‘It won’t be giving away any confidences.’

‘Well?’ said the Judge.

‘Nil,’ said Clapson. ‘It’s an open and shut case. Horrible position for you, Judge. I’m so sorry. I hope it’s settled — should hate to have to cross-examine you. Most embarrassing.’

‘What d’you think the damages will be, then? Or would you rather not say?’

‘Well — I oughtn’t to mention figures, in case you’ve a larger one in mind, Judge, but heavy, very heavy.’

‘Against me?’

‘Against all of you. The plaintiff seems a decent enough chap, bit short of money, of course, but—’

‘A decent enough chap, did you say?’

‘Yes, he seemed all right to me, Judge; but I gather he’s not very popular in the neighbourhood.’

‘He’s an out-and-out bounder.’

‘Clapson thinks all his geese are swans,’ put in Maynard. ‘That’s one of his few failings. So I shouldn’t worry about that.’

‘But,’ he added after Clapson had left them, ‘the trouble seems to be that it doesn’t much matter what the plaintiff’s like. It’s damned bad luck, though. I wish I could be of more help.’

The Judge returned disconsolately to Tapworth Magna and telephoned the General.

‘I’ll pay,’ he said resignedly. ‘But try and keep it as low as possible.’

‘You’ll be there yourself,’ said the General.

‘Oh, of course,’ said the Judge.

On the following Wednesday the required deputation met at Basil’s house. He greeted them with surprising cordiality.

‘Come in, my dear fellows,’ he said. ‘Nice to see you all. Quite a long time since we met. Oh, this is Mr Mountain of the Poppleton County Court,’ and he introduced them all to the bailiff. ‘Suppose we have a drink first of all. What for you, General?’

This was a very different atmosphere from what had been expected, but, although they would not in the normal way willingly have drunk with Basil, there was plainly no alternative. Moreover, their hopes began to rise. Nicholas had said Basil was a man of many moods. Perhaps they had arrived at the psychological moment.

‘I suppose one of you couldn’t lend me £155?’ he asked.

‘Certainly, my dear fellow,’ said the General. ‘Delighted. When would you like it?’

‘Well, it’s Mr Mountain here who wants it, really. Will you take a cheque, Mr Mountain?’

‘Well, I can’t really sir. But I tell you what I can do for you, if you like. It’s a little irregular, but —‘

‘Within the flexibility of the law,’ prompted Basil. ‘Exactly, sir. If Sir Bragge is prepared to give me his open cheque on a Poppleton Bank, I will go and cash it myself and pay it into the County Court.’

‘That’s uncommonly civil of you,’ said Basil. ‘What do you say, General?’

‘Only too pleased. Just wait while I get out my cheque book.’

It was not long before the bailiff was on his way back to Poppleton.

‘Perhaps I can repay the loan by bringing it into account in the little matter you’ve come to discuss?’

‘Certainly, my dear fellow.’

‘Judge, your glass is empty. There. That’s better. And you’ll be pleased to see I haven’t got my hands in my pockets.’

Judge Strachan grinned feebly.

‘And I’m standing up straight too.’

The Judge tried again, but it was not very successful. ‘Well, now, what’s the news?’ said Basil genially to the company in general. ‘How’s my rascal of a nephew? He was half seas over last time I saw him.’ So the conversation went on for about twenty minutes. Then the General fired a sighting shot.

‘Now, my boy,’ he said, in a jovial tone. ‘What about our little dispute? It’s good of you to see us.’

‘Not at all, my dear General, not at all. Only too pleased. It’s such a pity you’re not paying just a friendly call. I should have preferred that.’

‘Well, it’s fairly friendly at the moment,’ said the doctor. ‘And no reason, I hope, why it shouldn’t continue to be so,’ said Basil.

By this time hopes had risen considerably higher and looks were exchanged between the members of the deputation which indicated as much.

‘Vicar, another glass of sherry? How are the sermons going? Anyone listening yet?’

‘As usual, thank you.’ There was a limit beyond which the Vicar would refuse to go, but he was prepared to suffer to a certain extent for the general good.

‘I say, old man,’ said Basil to the Judge, ‘I suppose you couldn’t lend me £10. That £10 you fined me put me back a bit. I’m not a wealthy chap like you.’

The General glared at the Judge. He was quite plainly giving an order. For once, the law felt it had to obey. With as good a grace as possible, the Judge started to extract ten one pound notes from his pocket-book.

‘No — not now, Judge, please. Afterwards. What does it feel like to beat the receiving end?’ he added. If the Judge had not been so extremely anxious to keep the damages down to a minimum he would have walked out of the house, or, at least, tried to make some effective retort. As it was, he could only resort to another attempt at a grin. It made him look as if he were going to be sea-sick — but for his colour, which was red rather than green.

‘What fun it must be being a Judge,’ said Basil. ‘No one can contradict you. Everyone has to do what you tell him. Now, do take this chair, Judge. I particularly want you to sit here.’ And the Judge sat.

‘Now gentlemen,’ said Basil, ‘I think it very kind of you to come to see me. It must have cost some of you quite a lot — not in money, I mean — yet.’

The General decided to make a small reconnaissance. ‘Now, my dear Merridew, I’m a plain man. We’re in the wrong — and we want to say we’re sorry, damnably sorry. Forgive me, Vicar.’

‘That’s very generous of you, General. I wonder if each of the others would mind repeating that. Please don’t if you’d rather not. Vicar?’

The Vicar swallowed. ‘I offer you my unreserved apologies,’ he said.

‘Judge?’

‘I, too,’ said the Judge.

‘That’s not very liberal,’ said Basil. ‘Is that all you want to say?’

‘I’m extremely sorry,’ said the Judge, ‘and I withdraw the allegations unreservedly.’

‘That’s much better,’ said Basil. ‘I’d like to remember that. Would you mind repeating it?’

The Judge hesitated, but his financial position was undoubtedly very bad and he did as he was asked.

‘Just once more to please me,’ coaxed Basil.

When the apologies were over, the General tried again.

‘We’ve done you a wrong, Merridew, and we want to put it right. I don’t suppose you want money, but, if you do, tell us how much and we’ll see if we can agree.’

‘You go so fast,’ said Basil. ‘I’m a lonely man and it’s such a change having you here. If we agree at once, I’m sure you’d all go away. Another drink?’

They had to humour him and dropped the subject.

After another quarter of an hour, Basil said: ‘It isn’t fair to keep you in suspense like this. I’m so sorry. I’m being selfish. And, after all, I know the way these things happen. Walk into any club in London and hear what they’re saying. Enough material for fifty slander actions.’

‘I’m so glad you see it in that light,’ said the doctor.

‘How could you tell that I wasn’t insured? How could you know that my house really had been burgled? You couldn’t. Appearances were all against it.’

‘You take a very generous view,’ said the General.

‘You have a very liberal mind,’ added the Vicar.

‘I very much appreciate your attitude,’ said the Judge, feeling on firmer ground.

‘But, of course,’ went on Basil, ‘the law — ass that it is — says nothing about not knowing, does it, Doctor?’

The doctor made no answer. He realized what was coming.

‘Or taking a generous view, General?’

The General was silent.

‘Or having a liberal mind, Vicar?’ He paused, and then added: ‘Or much appreciating an attitude, Judge? Of course, it should do, Judge. But it doesn’t, Doctor. But don’t worry. I shan’t take any notice of anything any of you have said — tonight?

There was silence for a moment. The judge and the doctor, with their knowledge of Gilbert and Sullivan, knew that their mission had failed. The General and the Vicar did not recognize the use of The Mikado, but they did realize that the battle was lost.

‘Now, about your execution,’ continued Basil. ‘Will £15,000 suit you?’ There was no answer. ‘Come, gentlemen, don’t I hear £15,000?’ He turned to the General. ‘What about you, sir? It’s a good case, no flaws in it, guaranteed impregnable against any attack — what do I hear then? Won’t someone start the bidding?’ Still no sound.

‘I should have mentioned that there’s a reserve.’

‘How much?’ said the General.

‘£10,000.’

The General looked at the others. ‘We’ll pay,’ he said.

A week later all twenty-two actions were settled and Basil was paid £10,000, less the £165 he had borrowed at the meeting. He graciously agreed to give credit for that sum. Nicholas insisted on paying to the Vicar the amount of the latter’s contribution. ‘I feel in a way responsible,’ he had said. Everyone thought it was a fine gesture on his part, but this in no way mollified the feelings of his uncle’s victims towards Basil, nor did the fact that he agreed to forgo a public apology on the ground that it would only give more publicity to the slanders, nor did the sale of his house and his early departure from the neighbourhood. He had played with the deputation unmercifully, and, as Mr Twigg had agreed, £10,000 is a lot of money.