“‘What’s your trouble?’ he said. ‘They can’t begin without us.’
“‘Oh, can’t they?’ I said. ‘I’m the Judge’s Marshal.’
“‘The devil you are,’ says Charles. ‘You’re going to be late.’
“We pulled up to Winchester’s platform at seven minutes to ten.
“I fairly fell out of the train, and there was the Judge’s valet, standing upon one leg. I guessed it was he, because of his frantic demeanour.
“‘Are you from the Judge?’ I cried.
“‘Yes, sir. Are you the Marshal? I’ve got a fly.’
“There were no taxis in those days.
“I left my luggage to him, and the fly-man whipped up his horse.
“As we came to the Castle, I saw the coach coming up.
“I fell out of the fly and ran into the echoing hall.
“I tore off my hat and coat – it was raining hard – and thrust them upon a policeman. ‘Take those to the Judges’ room.’ Then I gave my note to another. ‘Take that to the Grand Jury bailiff. The foreman’s to have it at once.’ He only stared. ‘I’m the Marshal,’ I said. ‘Do as I say.’
“He turned and ran off. As he did so, the fanfare rang out.
“I whipped to the open doorway and stood to one side.
“The coach was there. The High Sheriff was getting out. When the Judges had descended, a little procession was formed. The High Sheriff, in blue and silver, bearing his wand, and the Judges, robed and wearing their full-bottomed wigs. I noticed Coleridge’s Marshal, standing, facing me, on the other side of the steps. We let the procession pass and fell in behind. So we passed through the hall to the Judges’ corridor. There Channell turned to me and put out his hand. ‘I think you’re Pleydell,’ he said. ‘Do you know the oath?’
“For half an hour, I had forgotten the oath.
“‘Yes, sir – Judge.’
“‘Come along.’
“The moment his back was turned, I whipped the card from my pocket and glanced at the print. As we passed a door which was open, I saw my coat on a chair. This, then, was the Judges’ room. I pitched the card in, as I passed. I
had
to get through it now.
“But before I came up to Becher’s, another fence had to be cleared. I had no means of knowing if the foreman had had my note.
“The Judge passed on to the Bench, and I followed behind.
“The Grand Jury was up on its feet. The Judge bowed to the Grand Jury, and the Grand Jurors bowed back. Then we all sat down.
“I got to my feet and chanced it.
“Looking straight at the foreman –
“‘I think, sir,’ I said, ‘you have a request to make.’
“He rose and looked at me. Then, to my great relief –
“‘If you please,’ he said, ‘the Grand Jury would like to be sworn in the old-fashioned way.’
“I glanced at Channell, who nodded.
“Then I administered the oath. I think that a merciful Providence guided my tongue, for I never faltered and I never made a mistake. And then I swore his fellows, twenty-two times. And then I sank down in my stall, by the Judge’s side.
“Channell leaned over to me.
“‘I’m much obliged, Pleydell,’ he said. ‘I have never heard the oaths better administered.’
“I don’t know what I replied. But I remember thinking, ‘If only you knew the truth.’
“Then he charged the Grand Jury. This, with the natural dignity which characterized all he did. That was the first occasion on which I had heard this done, for no one, except the Marshal, was allowed in Court.”
“How could you,” said Jill, “how could you have thrown away the card?”
“My sweet,” said I, “by throwing away the card, I cut off my way of escape. I
had
to do it then.”
“I’m damned if I’d have done it,” said Berry.
“I think you would. It forced me up to the jump which I had to take. I couldn’t run out then.”
“It makes me feel weak,” said Daphne.
“When you’re desperate,” said I, “it’s wonderful what you can do.”
“I am beginning,” said Berry, “to understand how
Richard William Chandos
does what he does.”
“That’s right,” said I. “
Chandos
is sometimes desperate. He’s
got
to do the thing: and, because he’s
got
to, he does it.
“And now let’s go back to the Judge.
“Sir Arthur Moseley Channell was a fine lawyer and an ideal Queen’s Bench Judge. He was, without exception, the most unassuming man I ever knew. He had no idea at all that Nature had accorded him a dignity such as very few possess and none can acquire. He was kindly, gentle and wise: but he was very firm. He did his distinguished duty as well as it has ever been done. He was tall and handsome, with thick, snow-white hair and a pleasing voice. I never saw him without his eye-glass. When he put on his spectacles, he put them on over the monocle.
“When that day we adjourned for luncheon, I met the second judge. This was Lord Coleridge. (Two Judges always go the Western Circuit. They usually take it in turns to deal with the civil stuff and the jail delivery.) Coleridge was a son of the famous Lord Chief Justice, from whom his title came. He was a very nice man, though not as good a lawyer, or, indeed, as good as Judge as was Channell. He, too, had his Marshal, of whom I took precedence, for mine was the senior Judge.
“I remember that we were late that day, for, after Channell had risen, there was an application in Chambers, that is to say, his decision upon a preliminary point of some civil action was sought by counsel in his private room. Coleridge had gone long ago, and the coach returned for Channell. When at last he was ready to go, I warned the servants and stood by, to walk behind him as far as the coach.
“As we came to the Castle’s doorway, Channell turned.
“‘And what about you?’ he said.
“‘I’ll get back all right, Judge.’
“‘Have you got a cab? It’s simply pouring with rain.’
“‘I’ll send for one, thank you, Judge.’
“‘You may find no one to send. Nearly everyone’s gone. You will come in the coach.’
“Considering his aversion to taking the Marshal in the coach, I found his gesture handsome.
“As I followed him out of the doorway, the fanfare of trumpets was blown. I entered the coach behind him and took my seat by his side. The footmen, gorgeously clad, shut the door behind me and folded the steps: then they swung themselves on to the tail-board, and the coach moved off. The body, of course, was slung, and the movement was not unpleasant. We lurched and swayed through the streets, with the police clearing the way and people stopping and staring and some taking off their hats. At last we swung under an archway and into the Inner Close of Winchester Cathedral.
“The Judges’ Lodging was a fine old house, with a forecourt. I have described this house in
And Berry Came Too
. There a late tea was served, and I had to pour out. After that, the Judge withdrew. I was thankful to do the same.
“To my relief, the valet had collected my luggage and unpacked my things. He later returned to the Castle to fetch my coat and hat. He must have been sick of mopping up that day. I was able to bathe and change, to my great relief.
“For that week at Winchester, life was agreeable, indeed. That night the weather cleared up, and for the rest of our stay we had cloudless summer days. The Judges had their own servants, and we were well cared for and fed. After tea, we always went for a walk. At meals, I took the head of the table: except that one morning, at breakfast, I filled up the tea-pot with hot milk, instead of hot water, I think I got through all right. After dinner, Coleridge and I used to stroll out into the old grave-yard, to look for curious epitaphs. Channell never smoked, but bade me smoke when I pleased. Coleridge used to smoke one pipe after breakfast and another after dinner. A clay pipe. I used to wonder why he was never sick.
“Channell was a staunch Conservative, and Coleridge a fierce Liberal. Party feeling was running very high at the time, and their consideration of their respective newspapers always made breakfast rather a strained meal. Channell would grunt and mutter over
The Times
, and Coleridge snort and blow over
The Daily News
. One day, I remember, Coleridge invited a violently Liberal peer to lunch in the Judges’ room. Channell was greatly offended and never opened his mouth. Justice compels me to say that the peer in question looked a first-class crook.
“No doubt everyone has read Barrie’s
My Lady Nicotine
. In that, the man who was accustomed to smoke ‘The Arcadia Mixture’ could smoke no other and would go all lengths to beg, borrow or steal it. I was rather the same about Cooper’s Oxford Marmalade. On the first morning at breakfast, some ordinary marmalade was served, but Coleridge had a pot of Oxford Marmalade all to himself. After some hesitation, I asked if I might have some of his. He laughed. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Help yourself. I know what it means.’
“Here, perhaps, I may interpose a memory told me by a distinguished officer of one of the Highland Regiments. He was a grandson of the famous Liddell, Dean of Christchurch and Vice-Chancellor of Oxford. His grandmother did her own shopping and did it remarkably well. One morning she entered Cooper’s shop in ‘The High’, which I can remember well. It was as fine a grocer’s as ever I saw. ‘Mr Cooper,’ she said, ‘I don’t like the marmalade you’re selling. Here is a receipt of my mother’s. Please make some of that.’ Cooper did as she said – and made his fortune as well. For that was the receipt of the famous Oxford Marmalade.
“Every morning at a quarter to ten the coach would arrive, with the High Sheriff in his state dress and the Judges’ Chaplain, wearing his cassock and hood. The Under-Sheriff followed them down in his car. The Marshals received them in a withdrawing-room. Then the Judges appeared, and a procession was formed. The Judges, High Sheriff and Chaplain entered the coach: the Marshals and the Under-Sheriff entered the latter’s car: the car, of course, beat the coach, so that we were ready and waiting before the coach hove in view.
“If the proceedings were dull, Channell would send me off for an hour or so, with instructions to visit some place of note, to make some purchases for him, or do as I pleased. He was very considerate, and I was always sorry that there was so little I could do for him.
“Though he never knew it, he used to cause me considerable anxiety during our walks. He enjoyed strolling in the lanes and byways, and, once we had reached these, he seemed to assume that such thoroughfares were reserved for pedestrians. He would stray all over the road, as though he were rambling in some park, and nothing that I could do would make him keep to the side – to say nothing of the path. Fortunately the traffic was slight, and there were next to no cars; but many a time I had to make surreptitious signals to some approaching driver, and hope for the best. I think it speaks volumes for the Judge’s appearance and bearing that the drivers always slowed down and gave him place and were never once rude about it. None of them can ever have known who he was.
“After dinner one evening I was walking with Coleridge in the Close, when he caught me by the arm.
“‘Pleydell,’ he said, ‘if you were a Judge, would you ever sentence a man to be flogged?’
“‘For some crimes – frequently, Judge.’
“‘Would you?’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Would you? I never would. I feel pain too much myself.’
“One of the many old customs at Winchester College is that, so often as His Majesty’s Judges visit the City, the Head of the school shall write them a letter in Latin, requesting them to ask the Headmaster to give the school a holiday in honour of their visit. It is the Senior Marshal’s duty to reply in Latin to the letter, granting this request. Good enough once, my Latin was not up to the mark. Channell, himself a fine scholar, laughed my dilemma to scorn. Coleridge’s Marshal knew rather less than I did. Finally, Coleridge came to my help. But he insisted on composing the reply in dog-latin. This shook me rather, and I often wonder what the Head of the school thought of the reply which, of course, I had to sign. I received a letter of thanks in the best ‘Tully’. ‘Ulpian’ had served my need.
“One afternoon the Judge was trying a most flagrant case of larceny. The accused had pleaded not guilty, but they were not represented and made no attempt to defend themselves. Although invited to do so, neither would enter the box. Channell summed up very shortly.
“‘Gentlemen,’ he said, ‘I don’t think you can have much doubt about this case. The case for the Crown seems to be very clear. And it stands quite uncontradicted. If there is a case for the defence, none of us knows what it is. Consider your verdict.’
“The jury consulted. They did not leave the box. Presently the foreman stood up.
“‘Not guilty,’ he said.
“The Judge stared at the jury.
“Then he addressed the prisoners.
“‘You are discharged.’
“He returned to the jury.
“‘Upon my word, gentlemen,’ he said,’ I don’t know where your senses have gone. You’ll never have before you a clearer case.’ He addressed the Clerk of Assize. ‘Empanel another jury, and keep these jurymen here until the end of the Assize.’
“This was done, and another prisoner was put up.
“His case was the reverse of the last. Larceny again, but the evidence offered by the Crown was painfully thin. To put it at its highest, it was a matter of slight suspicion. The accused defended himself with vigour and went into the box. It was clear to me that some mistake had been made.
“The Judge told the jury so and indicated that there was, to his mind, only one thing to be done. ‘Consider your verdict.’
“The jury consulted. Then the foreman stood up.
“‘Guilty,’ he said.
“Channell stared at him, as though unable to believe his ears. The whole Court was staring at him: and the prisoner was red in the face.
“The Judge addressed the prisoner.
“‘I’m afraid it’s my fault,’ he said, ‘for not making it plain enough to these gentlemen that a verdict of ‘Not Guilty’ was the only one they could return. Never mind. You will appeal against the verdict, and I myself will see that your appeal is properly lodged. The Court of Criminal Appeal will quash your conviction. Meanwhile you will be at liberty, for I shall grant you bail on your own recognizances.’