Part 7 (1/2)

”Not a rag of evidence,” said the attorney's clerk when he delivered the little brief--”not a shadder of evidence, Mr. 'Awkins. It's a walk-over, sir.”

I knew that meant a nominal fee, but wondered how many more similes he was going to deliver instead of the money. But to the honour of the solicitor, I am bound to say that point was soon cleared up, and the practice of magistrates, supposed to be in their right minds, committing people for trial with no ”shadder” of evidence against them, it now became my duty to inquire into. I asked how he knew there was no evidence, and whether the man bore a respectable character.

”Oh, I was up before the Baron,” he answered. (”Yes,” I thought, ”but you must wake very early if you are up too soon for Baron Martin.”) ”And the Baron said, as to grantin' bail, 'Certainly he should; the magistrates had no business to commit him for trial, for there was not a rag of a case against the man.' So you see, sir, it's a easy case, Mr. 'Awkins; and as the man's a poor man, we can't mark much of a fee.”

The usual complaint with quarter sessions solicitors.

Such were my instructions. I was young in practice at that time, and took a great deal more in--I mean in the way of credulity--than I did in after life. Nor was I very learned in the ways of solicitors'

clerks. I knew that hearsay evidence, even in the case of a Judge's observation, was inadmissible, and therefore what the Baron said could not strictly be given; but I did not know how far you might go in the country, nor what the Marquis's opinion might be of the Baron. I therefore mentioned it to Rodwell, who, of course, was instructed for the prosecution; he was in everything on one side or the other--never, I believe, on both.

This stickler for etiquette was absolutely shocked; he held up his hands, began a declamation on the rules of evidence, and uttered so many Pharisaical plat.i.tudes that I only escaped annihilation by a hair's-breadth. He was always furious on etiquette.

Much annoyed at his b.u.mptious manner, I was resolved now, come what would, to pay him off. I wanted to show him he was not everybody, even at Hertford Sessions. So when the case came on and the policeman was in the box, I rose to cross-examine him, which I did very quietly.

”Now, policeman, I am going to ask you a question; but pray don't answer it till you are told to do so, because my learned friend may object to it.”

Rodwell sprang to his feet and objected at once.

”What is the question?” asked the Marquis. ”We must hear what the question is before I can rule as to your objection, Mr. Rodwell.”

This was a good one for Mr. Rodwell, and made him colour up to his eyebrows, especially as I looked at him and smiled.

”The question, my lord,” said I, ”is a very simple one: Did not Mr.

Baron Martin say, when applied to for bail, that there was not a rag of a case against the prisoner?”

”This is monstrous!” said the learned stickler for forms and ceremonies--”monstrous! Never heard of such a thing!”

It might have been monstrous, but it gave me an excellent grievance with the jury, even if the Marquis did not see his way to allow the question; and a grievance is worth something, if you have no defence.

The Marquis paid great attention to the case, especially after that observation of the Baron's. Although he regretted that it could not be got in as evidence, he was good enough to say I should get the benefit of it with the jury.

All this time there was a continuous growl from my learned friend of ”Monstrous! monstrous!”--so much so that for days after that word kept ringing in my ears, as monotonously as a m.u.f.fin bell on a Sunday afternoon.

But I believe he was more irritated by my subsequent conduct, for I played round the question like one longing for forbidden fruit, and emphasized the objection of my learned friend now and again: all very wrong, I know now, but in the heyday of youthful ardour how many faults we commit!”

”Just tell me,” I said to the policeman, ”did the learned Judge--I mean Mr. Baron Martin--seem to know what he was about when he let this man out on bail?”

”O yes, sir,” said the witness, ”he knowed what he was about, right enough,” stroking his chin.

”You may rely on that,” said the Marquis. ”You may take that for granted, Mr. Hawkins.”

”I thought so, my lord; there is not a judge on the Bench who can see through a case quicker than the Baron.”

The grumbling still continued.

”Now, then, don't answer this.”