SIR,—My solicitor, A. C. R. Owen, of 14 Shirley Lane, E.C., will be
happy to accept service.
Which is the correct legal English for ‘You may go to the devil!’
But this is an anticipation. In the meantime, having received the
original letter and answered it, Frank went up to town as usual, while
Maude played the more difficult part of waiting quietly at home. In his
lunch-hour Frank went to see his friend and solicitor, who in turn
obtained leave to see the bond, and came back with a grave face.
‘You have a case,’ said he, ‘but by no means a certainty. It all depends
upon how the judge might read the document. I think that it would
strengthen our case very materially if we had counsel’s opinion. I’ll
copy the bond and show it to Manners, and have his opinion before you go
back to-night.’
So Frank went round again after office-hours, and found Owen waiting in
very low spirits, for their relations were closer than those of mere
solicitor and client.
‘Very sorry,’ said he.
‘Opinion against us.’
‘Dead against us.’
Frank tried to look as if he didn’t mind.
‘Let me see it.’
It was a long blue document with the heading, ‘The Hotspur Insurance
Company, Limited, _v._ Frank Crosse.’
‘I have perused the case submitted to me, and the papers accompanying the
same,’ said the learned counsel, ‘and in my opinion the Hotspur Insurance
Company, Limited, are entitled to recover from Mr. Crosse under his
guarantee, the sum of £340, being monies received by Mr. Farintosh, and
not paid over by him to the said Company.’ There was a great deal more,
but it was anticlimax.
‘Well, what shall we do?’ asked Frank helplessly. The British law makes
one feel so.
‘Well, I should stand out, if I were you. There is certainly a chance.’
‘Look here, old chap,’ said Frank, ‘I may as well be honest with you. If
this thing goes against me, I am stony broke. I don’t know where your
costs are coming from.’
‘Don’t bother about that,’ said Owen kindly. ‘After all, Manners is not
infallible. Let us have Holland, and see what he can make of it.’
So twenty-four hours later Frank found Owen radiant with another opinion
in his hand.
‘Dead for us this time. Look here!’
And he read out, ‘I have carefully considered the case submitted to me
for my opinion, and the documents sent therewith. In my opinion the
Hotspur Insurance Company, Limited, are not entitled to recover against
Mr. Crosse the sum claimed by them or any part thereof, as there has been
a breach on their part of an essential condition of the guarantee.’ ‘He
reads “frequently and periodically” as we do,’ continued Owen, glancing
over the long document, ‘and he is very clear as to our case.’
‘Suppose we have another, and try the best of three,’ said Frank.
‘It’s too expensive a game. No, Holland is a sound man, and his opinion
would weigh with any judge. I think we have enough to go on with.’
‘And you think it is safe?’
‘No, no, nothing is ever safe in the law. But we can make a fight of it
now.’
And now Frank was to learn what it meant to be entangled in an intricate
clumsy old machine, incredibly cumbrous and at the same time incredibly
powerful, jolting along with its absurd forms and abominable English
towards an end which might or might not be just, but was most certainly
ruinously expensive. The game began by a direct letter from the Queen,
of all people, an honour which Frank had never aspired to before, and
certainly never did again.
Victoria, by the grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and
Ireland, Queen, Defender of the Faith, remarked abruptly to Frank Crosse
of Woking, in the county of Surrey, ‘We command you that within eight
days of the service of this writ on you, inclusive of the day of such
service, you cause an appearance to be entered for you in an action at
the suit of the Hotspur Insurance Company, Limited.’ If he didn’t do so,
Her Majesty remarked that several very unpleasant things might occur, and
Hardinge Stanley, Earl of Halsbury, corroborated Her Majesty. Maude was
frightened to death when she saw the document, and felt as if unawares
they must have butted up against the British Constitution, but Owen
explained that it was only a little legal firework, which meant that
there might be some trouble later.
‘Well, at any rate,’ said Frank, ‘it means that in eight days it will all
be over.’
Owen laughed heartily at the remark.
‘It means,’ said he, ‘that in eight days we must promise that at some
future date we will begin to make preparations for something to happen in
the future. That is about the meaning of it. All you can do now is to
be perfectly philosophic, and leave the rest to me.’
But how is a man with a capital of fifty pounds going to be philosophic
when he is fighting an opponent whose assets, as a certain hoarding near
Clapham Junction told him every morning, exceeded three millions of
pounds. He treated it lightly to Maude, and she to him, but each
suffered horribly, and each was well aware of the other’s real feelings.
Sometimes there was a lull, and they could almost believe that the whole
thing was over. And then the old machine gave a creak, and the rusty
cog-wheels took one more turn, and they both felt the horrid thing which
held them.
First of all, they had to enter appearances, which meant that they would
dispute the action. Then the other side had to make an affidavit
verifying their claim. Then a Master had to pronounce whether the action
should be treated offhand, or whether he would listen to what they had to
say about it. He decided to listen to what was to be said. Then each
side claimed to see the other’s documents, ‘discovery’ they called it, as
if the documents were concealed, and they had to hunt for them stealthily
with lanterns. Then each made remarks about the other’s documents, and
claimed to see the remarks so made. Then the lawyers of the Company made
a statement of their claim, and when she read it Maude burst into tears,
and said that it was all over, and they must make the best of it, and she
should never forgive herself for that new dress in the spring. And then
Frank’s lawyer drew up a defence, and when Frank heard it, he said, ‘Why,
what a silly business it seems! They have not got a leg to stand upon.’
And so, after all these flourishes and prancings, the two parties did
actually begin to show signs of coming to a hearing after all, and a day
was fixed for the trial. By a coincidence it was Frank’s birthday.
‘There’s a good omen!’ cried Maude.
The first herald of the approaching conflict was a seedy person, who
thrust a paper into Frank’s hand as he emerged from The Lindens in the
morning. It was another letter from Her Majesty, in which sub pœnâ (Her
Majesty has not a gracious way of putting things in these documents), Mr.
Frank Crosse had ‘to attend at the Royal Courts of Justice, Strand, at
the sittings of the Queen’s Bench Division of our High Court of Justice,
to give evidence on behalf of the Hotspur Company.’
This seemed to Frank to be a most unexpected and fearsome stroke, but
Owen simply laughed.
‘That is mere bluff,’ said he. ‘It makes me think that they are
weakening. They want to frighten you.’
‘They did,’ said Frank.
‘Two can play at that game. We must keep a bold front.’
‘What do you mean to do?’
‘To subpœna all their crowd.’
‘Capital!’ cried Frank. So a clerk was sent across to the Hotspur office
with a whole bundle of subpœnas, and served them liberally out. And in
two days’ time was the day of battle.