Ways and Means Read online

  ‘Finish your sentence, Mr Merridew. And Mr Malton, you might reserve your comments for your speech to the jury,’

  ‘What happened was this,’ said Basil. ‘I was just going to drink when the Defendant either deliberately or more probably by accident jarred my elbow and the wine went into my wife’s face.’

  ‘Were you not turned out of the restaurant?’

  ‘Oh, yes. The proprietor refused to listen to any explanation.’

  ‘It seems a very strange occurrence,’ said the Judge. ‘It has never happened before or since,’ said Basil. ‘Were you not talking very loud just before this occurred?’ said Mr Malton.

  ‘No more than usual. As a matter of fact, the Defendant had been having an argument with my wife about the sherry. She said it was too dry and he said it wasn’t.’

  ‘I suggest that was you.’

  ‘Oh, no, it was the Defendant. I agreed with my wife.’

  ‘Did you not say as you threw the sherry —’

  ‘He says he didn’t throw it, Mr Malton,’ interrupted the Judge. ‘You mustn’t put that on him.’

  ‘Did you not say as the sherry left the glass for your wife, “See if this is less dry”?’

  ‘Nothing of the kind.’

  ‘Did you say anything which could be mistaken for that?’

  ‘Well, at this date your client would twist anything I said — like the suicide letter.’

  ‘Suicide?’ asked the Judge.

  ‘Yes, my Lord. They wrote and said I tried to commit suicide. The truth of the matter was —’

  ‘We’ll come to that later, if necessary,’ said the Judge. ‘Stick to the sherry for the moment.’

  ‘What about Mr Legotti?’ went on counsel. ‘Would he twist anything against you?’

  ‘I’m sure not,’ said Basil. ‘But he was so excited that I wouldn’t personally rely on his memory.’

  ‘Did you say anything he could have mistaken for what I put to you?’

  ‘Well,’ said Basil, ‘I did use the word “dry”.’

  ‘You said “dry”?’ said the Judge.

  ‘Yes, my Lord. I said something like — I can’t remember the exact words — “I’m so sorry. I’ll dry it up.” Something like that.’

  ‘Are you quite sure you said something of the kind?’

  ‘Something like it — not the exact words, of course.’

  ‘Very well, then. Now, will you kindly look at this letter. Is it in your handwriting?’

  Mr Malton handed up to Basil the letter beginning ‘You will do as I say.’

  Basil looked at the letter and laughed. ‘Oh — that Surely my wife’s told you about that.’

  ‘What does the letter say?’ asked the Judge. It was read out in full.

  ‘Well, what is your explanation of that, sir?’ asked the Judge. It conveyed a very different impression of Basil from the one which the Judge had been forming up till then.

  ‘It was a game we used to play, my Lord.’

  ‘What sort of game?’

  ‘A sort of consequences. I’m afraid we called it “rude letters”. This one was written ages ago — several years before the sherry incident to which counsel has been referring.’

  ‘I suggest to you that it was written a day or two after the sherry incident — well within the last six months?’

  ‘Might I ask,’ said Basil, ‘if it is suggested that the letter was posted by me?’

  ‘It certainly is.’

  ‘What utter nonsense. Perhaps you’ll produce the envelope.’

  Mr Malton turned to Mr Gateshead and Mr Gateshead turned to Elizabeth, and it was soon quite obvious that no envelope was going to be produced.

  ‘Well,’ said the judge, ‘have you the envelope?’

  ‘Unfortunately, my client hasn’t kept it, my Lord.’

  ‘The reason you can’t produce the envelope is because that letter was written by me when we were both sitting on the floor and handed by me to her,’ said Basil. ‘I’ll explain the game if you want me to, but it was pretty stupid.’

  ‘It sounds it,’ said the Judge.

  ‘Not half so stupid as trying to pretend it’s a genuine letter, if I may say so, my Lord.’

  ‘You may not. You are there to answer questions, not make comments.’

  ‘I’m sorry, my Lord.’

  ‘Now, Mr Merridew, do you say that you have always treated your wife with kindness?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Have you not pulled her round the room by her nose?’

  ‘Yes, often.’

  ‘You say you have — and often?’ asked the Judge.

  ‘Oh, yes, my Lord. That was another game.’

  ‘It doesn’t sound very funny.’

  ‘I’m sure it doesn’t, my Lord, but a good many married couples would look silly if they had to describe in Court all the games they played with each other.’

  ‘You pulled her round the room by the nose?’ repeated counsel.

  ‘Certainly, and she pulled me round the room — but not by the nose?’

  ‘By what, may I ask?’

  ‘By my tongue, if you want to know. We didn’t hurt each other, by the way. I cannot believe that my wife is genuinely instructing you that I’ve been cruel to her. Look at the letter I had from her not more than a year or so ago. That reads as though I knocked her about, doesn’t it?’

  ‘What letter?’ asked the Judge.

  ‘A letter I happen to have kept, my Lord,’ said Basil. ‘My solicitor has it.’

  ‘Would it be convenient if the jury and I had it now, Mr Malton?’ asked the judge.

  ‘Oh, certainly, my Lord,’ said Mr Malton. He would have liked to say that it was highly inconvenient. The letter had been disclosed in the proceedings; he knew what was in it and that it would help Basil’s case. However, he could only consent and the letter beginning ‘My own darling tuppenny’ was duly read out.

  ‘I suggest to you,’ said Mr Malton, ‘that that letter was written before the war.’

  ‘It was not. It was written when I was in Liverpool on business about a year ago.’

  ‘Have you the envelope in which it came?’

  ‘I didn’t keep it. I only kept the letter by chance. I always destroyed my wife’s letters when we were together again. I should destroy that one if your client would give her back to me.’

  ‘Now, Mr Merridew,’ said the Judge, ‘don’t be melodramatic. Your counsel will address the jury for you in due course.’

  Mr Malton went on cross-examining Basil for some time, but made little headway. His best point was still Basil’s letter. The story about a game took some believing. He returned to the point again and asked for a detailed explanation of the game. Basil gave one, but it didn’t sound too convincing, although it wasn’t altogether impossible. After Basil had given his evidence, Dr Shrewsbury Cannon was called. Nicholas’s letter about Elizabeth being terrified of Basil had already been read to the jury. The doctor gave evidence in accordance with his report.

  ‘Did she strike you as the sort of woman who would be easily persuaded to do something she did not want to do?’ he was then asked.

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ replied the doctor, ‘but she gave me the impression that she was trying to persuade me to do something I did not want to do.’

  ‘How long did the interview take?’ asked Mr Malton, cross-examining.

  ‘About five to ten minutes.’

  ‘And do you really mean to say you could form the view that she wasn’t in the least frightened or in a suicidal frame of mind in that short time?’

  ‘In less than that. May I suggest to you that, if the lady gives evidence, you see how long it takes you to come to the same conclusion?’

  ‘Now, Doctor, you mustn’t cross-examine counsel.’

  ‘I was only advising him, my Lord. I’m sorry.’

  Shortly afterwards, the plaintiff’s case was concluded. Mr Malton then addressed the jury and called Nicholas as his first witness. He gave his ev
idence quite well. He was asked, among other things, whether he really believed that Elizabeth was frightened of Basil.

  ‘She told me she was,’ he said. ‘I saw no reason for disbelieving her. I actually heard her say that she would jump into the Thames if we sent her away. I can’t prove whether she would have done so. My wife heard her say it too.’

  He denied Basil’s version of the sherry incident. He had certainly not jogged his arm either deliberately or accidentally. Yes, he had bought Elizabeth a brassiere. He had been buying one for his wife and she had asked him to get one for Elizabeth at the same time. He stoutly denied that he had ever suggested to Elizabeth that she should leave Basil.

  ‘I can assure you,’ he said, ‘that Mrs Merridew is not a person to do anything she doesn’t want to do.’

  ‘That may be,’ said counsel, ‘but even if she had the inclination to run away with you, it would not justify you in asking her to do so.’

  ‘Well, really,’ said Nicholas. ‘First, she has not run away with me. She is living with me and my wife. Secondly, no one has said she had the slightest inclination to run away with me. Thirdly, I never asked her to do so. She came to me and my wife because she wanted to. It’s possible she has exaggerated or even misstated the reasons for her doing so. But how was I or how was my wife to know that?’

  He agreed that his last letter to Basil’s solicitor was silly and offensive.

  ‘I am often silly, I’m afraid. I am not often offensive, but I was annoyed at being threatened. I apologize.’

  Questioned about the suicide incident, he said that Basil’s explanation was a possible one, but he hadn’t given it at the time.

  ‘Oh — no,’ he said. ‘I remember now. After we’d got him into the drawing-room, he said we could tell the story he’s just told if anyone happened to hear about it.’

  ‘How could anyone get to hear of it?’

  ‘I don’t know but that’s what he said.’

  The second witness for the defence was Petula. She was asked by Nicholas’s counsel confidently if she had seen any undue familiarity between Nicholas and Elizabeth.

  ‘They always explained everything,’ she said, a little to Mr Malton’s dismay.

  ‘Explained what?’ said the Judge.

  ‘Oh, you know the way things happen, my Lord,’ said Petula.

  ‘I do not,’ said the judge; ‘least of all in this case. Pray tell the jury what there was to explain and how they explained it.’

  ‘Oh, well, my Lord. I’ve a good husband, and if you have a good husband you trust him. And I’d trust Nicholas anywhere. Even when he was in the Middle East, my Lord, I’m quite sure —’

  The Judge stopped her.

  ‘Now, Mrs Drewe, please answer the question I have asked you, and don’t run on about something else.’

  ‘I’m sorry, my Lord. It’s so difficult to remember everything.’

  ‘First of all, what conduct required explanation?’

  ‘Well, nothing really.’

  ‘A moment ago you said they gave you satisfactory explanations. Explanations of what?’

  ‘Well, my Lord, I once came in and found them kissing under the kitchen table.’

  ‘What was their explanation?’

  ‘It was a sort of game, my Lord.’

  ‘Did you see how he was kissing her?’

  ‘Oh, yes, my Lord, like one does kiss. You know, my Lord.’

  The Judge paused. ‘I don’t think you intend to be impertinent,’ he said, ‘but in case you have any such temptation I should warn you now that the consequences will be very serious. Do you understand?’

  ‘I’m only trying to answer your Lordship’s questions. I’ve never given evidence before.’

  Petula then proceeded to cry. ‘I didn’t want to come here,’ she half sobbed.

  ‘Would you like to sit down?’ said the judge.

  ‘Yes, please, my Lord.’

  ‘Very well, then. Now, compose yourself and answer the questions. I wanted to know the sort of kiss it was.’

  ‘Well, my Lord, if I answer the question, perhaps you’ll say I’m being impertinent, and if I don’t, you’ll say I must. What shall I do?’

  ‘Answer the question, madam. You know quite well what is meant by being impertinent.’

  ‘Well, my Lord, there are so many different kinds of kisses. There is the sort of kiss which — well — the sort of kiss — well, not the sort you’d give anyone in the witness box.’

  ‘Madam, will you kindly behave yourself. You know the difference between an ordinary good-night kiss and a kiss of passion.’

  ‘Oh, yes, my Lord,’ said Petula, rather too eagerly.

  ‘Well, which was this?’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t a good-night kiss, because it was in the afternoon, but I don’t think it could have been a passionate kiss either.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Such a silly position.’

  ‘What did they say when you came in?’

  ‘I think it was “Hullo”?’

  ‘Did they seem embarrassed?’

  ‘I don’t think so. They did mention that they thought I was back early. I was a little early, as a matter of fact. I’d gone to see a friend of mine who was just recovering from flu and when I got there —’

  ‘Please, Mrs Drewe, it is quite sufficient to say you were back early.’

  ‘I was back early, my Lord.’

  ‘Did you see them kiss just the once or more than once?’

  ‘D’you mean on that occasion?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well — it’s very difficult to say whether a kiss is one long kiss or several short ones. One has to be doing it, you know, and then I suppose one wouldn’t be counting. Let’s call it a kiss and a half.’

  ‘We won’t call it anything, Mrs Drewe. We want to know what you saw.’

  ‘Well — I just saw them kissing, my Lord. I hadn’t got —’ And Petula stopped in the middle.

  ‘You hadn’t got what?’

  ‘Well, my Lord, I stopped because you might have thought it impertinent.’

  In this rather unusual case, where the truth might be expected to pop out all of a sudden and from an unexpected quarter, the Judge felt he should risk the impertinence.

  ‘You had better tell me. What hadn’t you got?’

  ‘A machine for measuring the kiss, my Lord.’ The judge said nothing for a second. Then he said: ‘This is a Court of law, Mrs Drewe, and I shall not give you another chance. You know quite well that that remark was intended to be impertinent. No, it’s no use snivelling. The waterworks do not impress me.’

  ‘Now, with regard to presents,’ went on Mr Malton, mercifully. ‘What do you say about them?’

  ‘What do I say about presents?’ sniffed Petula.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, I like them.’

  ‘Yes, yes. We all do. But what do you say about the presents your husband gave Mrs Merridew?’

  ‘They were very nice.’

  ‘Did he give them with your approval?’

  ‘Oh — yes, certainly.’

  ‘And did he always get you one at the same time?’

  ‘Oh — yes, I think so.’

  ‘And does that include the underclothes — brassieres and so on?’

  ‘He never got me a brassiere.’

  ‘He never bought you one?’

  ‘No. I’m afraid I don’t wear them, my Lord.’

  ‘Then why should he buy one for Mrs Merridew?’

  ‘She does, my Lord. If your Lordship will look at the two of us, your Lordship will see that I have what they call a boyish figure, while Mrs Merridew —’

  The Judge looked at the clock instead.

  ‘I think we will adjourn for lunch now,’ he said. After the adjournment, Petula went back into the witness box. Mr Malton felt he had better finish off the brassiere.

  ‘Did you mind your husband getting Mrs Merridew a brassiere?’

  ‘Not at all.’

&nbs
p; ‘Was there anything strange in his doing so?’

  ‘Nothing whatever. He had bought us both belts.’

  ‘That may be,’ said the Judge, who was a bachelor, ‘but a belt isn’t a very intimate garment, like a brassiere.’

  ‘Not intimate, my Lord?’

  The Judge should have been warned by the tone of Petula’s answer, but, if he noticed it, he did not do so in time.

  ‘I shouldn’t have thought so.’

  ‘Well,’ said Petula, ‘I’m sure your Lordship knows best, but it’s the first thing I put on and the last thing I take off.’

  ‘Oh,’ said the Judge, ‘you mean that sort of garment. I thought you meant an outside belt. Perhaps I’d better not ask any more questions.’

  There was a Mrs Jones on the jury. She was a kind-hearted woman and she was sorry for the Judge. ‘I could explain it all to your Lordship —’ she began.

  ‘No, thank you, madam,’ said the Judge firmly, and he kept fairly quiet for some time.

  Nevertheless, Petula was asked a good many more questions both by Mr Malton and by Mr Turnberry. At one stage the latter asked her if she trusted her husband.

  ‘Oh, absolutely,’ she said.

  ‘If you hadn’t trusted him so implicitly, don’t you think his behaviour with Mrs Merridew might have worried you a little?’

  ‘Well, of course, every wife who doesn’t trust her husband is worried the whole time he isn’t with her. I wasn’t worried even when he was in Cairo. He wrote me everything he did.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘He said so.’

  ‘Lucky Mr Drewe,’ commented Mr Turnberry.

  ‘I think so,’ said Petula.

  ‘I suppose nothing would make you suspicious of your husband?’

  ‘I’m sure he’s never given me cause to be.’

  ‘You see him kissing under the table. It’s a game?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. I forget what they called it. I’m not sure that I asked them.’

  ‘He buys her a brassiere — that’s just part of the service. I suppose if you’d seen them in bed together and they’d said it was a game, you’d have been satisfied?’

  ‘You must think I’m young,’ said Petula. ‘I should have known what that meant.’

  ‘That they were tired, I suppose,’ said Mr Turnberry, and sat down.