THE BATTLE WITH MR. TIDDES
The next day there occurred to Arthur Lisle--whose mind was a thousand
miles away from such things--a most unexpected event. The news of it
came by telephone from Henry, who ventured to bespeak Mr. Lisle's
immediate attention; he was not quite sure that he would get it, so
reprehensibly neglectful had Mr. Lisle's professional conduct been of
late. A brief had arrived, not somebody else's to be 'held,' but
actually for Arthur himself--a brief in the Westminster County Court.
The case would come on for trial in two days' time.
His first impulse was to send the brief back, to fly from it; not so
much now because it frightened him as because it clashed with the whole
present temper of his mind. But full as he was of fancies and vanities,
he had somewhere a residuum of sober sense. Did he really mean to turn
his back on work, to abandon his profession? Not merely to neglect
preparation and opportunities, as he had been doing, but to refuse work
actually there? That was a different thing--a decision too momentous. If
he refused this brief, he would scarcely dare to show himself at his
chambers, to face Henry again. He braced himself up, and in a mixture of
apprehension, annoyance, and surprise, took his way to the
Temple--instead of going down to Wimbledon to watch lawn-tennis.
Henry welcomed the Prodigal, quite forgetful apparently of that
unfortunate episode of the Law Reports. "It's from Wills and Mayne," he
said. "Mr. Mayne brought it himself, and said a clerk would be at the
court on Friday to look after you."
"But who are they? Do you know them, Henry?"
"No, sir, I never heard of them. They're not clients of Mr. Norton
Ward's. But Mr. Mayne seemed to know about you. A shortish gentleman,
grey and rather bald--one of his eyelids sort o' trembles, something
like as if he was winking."
"Hum!" He did not identify the stranger. "How the deuce did they ever
hear of me?" Because although Arthur might have been cutting a figure in
society, and certainly was a person to whom notable things of a romantic
order had been happening, he was, as a member of the Bar, very young and
monstrously insignificant. "Well, it beats me!" he confessed as he
untied the tape which fastened _Tiddes v. the Universal Omnibus Company,
Ltd._.
Mr. Tiddes, it appeared (for of course Arthur dashed at the brief and
read it without a moment's delay), had a grievance against the Universal
Omnibus Company, Ltd., in that they had restarted their 'bus while he
was still in process of alighting, thereby causing him to fall in the
roadway, to sprain his thumb, bark his knee, and tear his trousers, in
respect of which wrongs and lesions he claimed forty pounds in damages.
The Omnibus Company said--well, according to their solicitors, Messrs.
Wills and Mayne, they did not seem to have very much to say. They
observed that their clients were much exposed to actions of this sort
and made it their policy to defend them whenever possible. The incident,
or accident, occurred late on Saturday night; Mr. Tiddes had been in
company with a lady (whom he left in the 'bus), and had struck the
conductor as being very animated in his demeanour. Counsel would make
such use of these facts as his discretion dictated. In short, a
knowledge of our national habits made falling off a 'bus late on
Saturday night in itself a suspicious circumstance. Add the lady, and
you added suspicion also. Add an animated demeanour, and the line of
cross-examination was clearly indicated to counsel for the defendants.
Not a clerk but Mr. Mayne himself met Arthur at the court; he was
recognisable at once by the tremor of his eyelid--like a tiny wink, a
recurring decimal of a wink. He was, it seemed, rather pessimistic; he
said it was a class of case that the Company must fight--"Better lose
than not defend"--and Mr. Lisle must do his best. Of course the
jury--and plaintiff had naturally elected to have a jury--would find
against the Company if they could; however Mr. Lisle must do his best.
Arthur said he would. He longed to ask Mr. Mayne how the deuce the firm
had ever heard of him, but judiciously refrained from thus emphasising
his own obscurity. Also he strove not to look frightened.
He was frightened, but not so frightened as he would have been in the
High Court. Things were more homely, less august. There was no row of
counsel, idle and critical. His Honour had not the terrors of Pretyman,
J., and counsel for the plaintiff was also young at the job, though not
so raw as Arthur. But the really lucky thing was that Mr. Tiddes himself
made Arthur furiously angry. He was a young man, underbred but most
insufferably conceited; he gave his evidence-in-chief in a jaunty
facetious way, evidently wishing to be considered a great buck and very
much of a ladies' man. With this air he told how he had spent the
Saturday half-holiday--he was in the drapery line--at a cricket-match,
had met the young lady--Miss Silcock her name was--by appointment at a
tea-shop, had gone with her to a "Cinema," had entertained her to a
modest supper, and in her company mounted the 'bus. It was at her own
request that he got out, leaving her to go home unattended. His manner
conveyed that Miss Silcock's had been a stolen spree. Then came his
story of the accident, his physical sufferings, his doctor's bill, and
his tailor's account; finally the hard-hearted and uncompromising
attitude of the Company was duly exhibited.
Arthur rose to cross-examine--the moment of a thousand dreams and fears.
"Now, Mr. Tiddes----" he began.
"_At_ your service, sir," interposed Mr. Tiddes in jaunty and jocular
defiance.
"I want to follow you through this very pleasant evening which you seem
to have had. I'm sure we're all very sorry that it ended badly."
"Very unselfish of _you_ to look at it like that, Mr. Lisle," said His
Honour. (Laughter in Court.)
Follow Mr. Tiddes he did through every incident of the evening, with a
curiosity especially directed towards the refreshments of which Mr.
Tiddes had partaken. With subtle cunning he suggested that in such
company as he had been privileged to enjoy Mr. Tiddes would be
lavish--his hand would know no stint. As a matter of fact, Mr. Tiddes
appeared to have done things well. The "tea-shop" sold other
commodities, such as a glass of port. Next door to the "Cinema" was a
saloon buffet and Mr. Tiddes admitted a visit. At supper they naturally
took something--in fact bottled ale for Miss Silcock, and
whiskey-and-soda for Mr. Tiddes.
"One whiskey and soda?" asked counsel for the defence.
"Yes, one," said Mr. Tiddes. "At least I think so. Well--I believe I did
have a split, besides."
"Split whiskey or split soda?" (Laughter in Court.)
His Honour lolled back in his chair, smiling. Evidently he thought
somebody a fool, but Arthur could not be sure whether it was himself or
Mr. Tiddes. But he did not much care. He had warmed to his work, he had
forgotten his fears. He could not bear that Mr. Tiddes should defeat
him; it had become a battle between them. Once or twice Mr. Tiddes had
winced, as over that 'split'--an arrow in the joints of his harness! He
was less jaunty, less facetious.
At last they got to the accident. Here Mr. Tiddes was very firm. He made
no concessions; he walked (so he maintained) from his place in a
perfectly quiet, sober, and business-like manner, and in like manner was
about to descend from the 'bus when--on it moved and he was jerked
violently off! If the conductor said anything to the contrary--well, the
conductor was not looking at the critical moment; he was collecting
somebody's fare.
"You didn't even look back at the young lady over your shoulder?"
"I did not, sir." Mr. Tiddes too was, by now, rather angry.
"Didn't kiss your hand or anything of that sort?"
"Nothing of the kind, sir."
"In fact you were attending entirely to what you were doing?"
"I was."
"Don't you think, then, that it's rather odd that you should have been
jerked off?"
"The 'bus moved suddenly, and that jerked me off."
"But you were holding on, weren't you?"
"Yes, I was holding on all right."
So they went on wrangling, till His Honour ended it by remarking, "Well,
we've got his story, I think, Mr. Lisle. You will have your opportunity
of commenting on it, of course." Upon which Arthur sat down promptly.
But he was dissatisfied. It was no more than a drawn battle with Mr.
Tiddes. If Mr. Tiddes's refreshments had been shown to border on excess,
there was nothing to show that they had affected the clearness of his
mind or the stability of his legs. That was what Arthur was fishing
for--and pure fishing it was, for the conductor had in fact had his back
turned at the critical moment when Mr. Tiddes left the 'bus--somehow.
Also he was between Mr. Tiddes and the only other passenger (Miss
Silcock herself excepted). He had reached backwards to give the signal
to start--assuming that Mr. Tiddes was already safely off. Negligent,
perhaps--but why was Mr. Tiddes not safely off by then? That question
stuck in Arthur's mind; but he had got no answer to it out of Mr.
Tiddes. The plaintiff insisted that no human being could have got off in
the time allowed by that negligent conductor.
Miss Silcock confirmed her friend's story, but in rather a sulky way. It
was not pleasant to have the stolen spree dragged to light; she had "had
words" with her mother, to whom she had originally represented the
companion of her evening as belonging to the gentler sex; she was
secretly of opinion that a true gentleman would have forgone his action
in such circumstances. Arthur had hopes of Miss Silcock and treated her
very gently--no suggestion whatever that her conduct was other than
perfectly ladylike! Miss Silcock was quite in a good humour with him
when they got to the moment when Mr. Tiddes bade her good night.
"You were at the far end of the 'bus. He said good night, and walked
past the conductor?"
"Yes."
"When did the 'bus stop?"
"When he was about half-way to the door."
"What did he do?"
"Walked to the door."
"Had the 'bus started again by then?"
"No."
"You could see him all the time? Where was he when the 'bus started
again?"
"On the platform outside the door."
"Was he holding on to anything?"
Miss Silcock looked a little flustered. "I don't remember."
"Oh, but try, Miss Silcock," said His Honour soothingly, but sitting up
straight in his chair again.
"Well, no, I don't think he was. He'd turned round."
"Oh, he _had_ turned round!" said Arthur, with a quite artistic glance
at the jury.
"Well, he just turned and smiled at me--sort o' smiled good night."
"Of course! Very natural he should!"
"But he didn't seem to remember having done it," observed His Honour.
"Did he do anything besides smile at you?" asked Arthur.
"No, I don't think----" She smiled and hesitated a moment.
"Think again, Miss Silcock. You'd had a very pleasant evening together,
you know."
Miss Silcock blushed a little, but was by no means displeased. "Well, he
did cut a sort of caper--silly-like," she admitted.
"Oh, did he? Could you show us what it was like?"
"I couldn't _show_ you," answered Miss Silcock, with a slight giggle and
a little more blush. "He lifted up one leg and kind of wiggled it in the
air, and----"
"Just then the 'bus went on again, is that it?"
"Well, just about then, yes." Miss Silcock had caught a look--such a
look!--from her friend, and suddenly became reluctant.
"While he was on one leg?"
Miss Silcock, turned frightened and remorseful, was silent.
"Answer the question, please," said His Honour.
"Well, I suppose so. Yes."
"Thank you, Miss Silcock. No more questions."
Re-examination could not mend matters. The evidence for the defence came
to very little. Counsel's speeches call for no record, and His Honour
did little more than observe that, where Mr. Tiddes and Miss Silcock
differed, the jury might see some reason to think that Miss Silcock's
memory of the occurrence was likely to be the clearer and more
trustworthy of the two. The jury thought so.
"We find that the conductor started the 'bus too soon, but that the
plaintiff oughtn't to have been behaving like he was," said the foreman.
"That he wouldn't have tumbled off but for that, do you mean?" asked His
Honour.
After a moment's consultation, the foreman answered "Yes."
"I submit that's a verdict of contributory negligence, your Honour,"
said Arthur, jumping up.
"I don't think you can resist that, Mr. Cawley, can you?" His Honour
asked of counsel for the plaintiff. "Judgment for the defendants with
costs."
Poor Mr. Tiddes! He was purple and furious. It is sadly doubtful if he
ever again gave Miss Silcock a pleasant evening-out.
The case was won. Mr. Cawley was disconsolate. "Fancy the girl letting
me down like that!" he said, in mournful contemplation of the untoward
triumph of truth. Mr. Mayne, winking more quickly than usual, was mildly
congratulatory. "The result will be very satisfactory to the Company.
Just the sort of thing which shows their policy of fighting is right!
Good afternoon, Mr. Lisle, and thank you." And there was Henry, all over
smiles, waiting to applaud him and to carry home his blue bag. Arthur
had a suspicion that, if he had lost, Henry would have disappeared and
left him to carry the bag back to the Temple himself.
He was exultant, but he was not satisfied. As he strolled back to his
chambers, smoking cigarettes, a voice kept saying in his ear, "You ought
to have got it out of Tiddes! You ought to have got it out of Tiddes!"
Ought he? Could he? Had Tiddes been lying, or was his memory really
misty? Arthur did not know even now, though he favoured the former
alternative. But oughtn't he to know? Oughtn't he to have turned Mr.
Tiddes inside out? He had not done it. Tiddes would have beaten him, but
for Miss Silcock. True, he had persevered with Miss Silcock because his
mind had gone to the mysterious point in the case--why Mr. Tiddes was
just ten seconds or so too long in getting off the 'bus. But could
he--or couldn't he--have been expected to think of that capering
silly-like?
Between exultation and dissatisfaction his mind was tingling. He fought
the fight over and over again; he was absolutely engrossed in it. He was
back in the Temple before he knew it almost--sitting in his chair by the
fire, with a pipe, trying to see what he could have asked, how he could
have broken down Mr. Tiddes's evidence. A pure triumph might have left
him pleased but careless. This defeat in victory sharpened his feelings
to a keen interest and curiosity. What were the secrets of the art of
wresting the truth from unwilling witnesses? The great art of
cross-examination--what were its mysteries?
At any rate it was a wonderful art and a wonderful thing. Very different
from the dreary reading of Law Reports! There was a fascination in the
pitting of your brain against another man's--in wringing the truth
(well, if what you wanted to get happened to be the truth) from his
reluctant grasp. It was Battle--that's what it was.
"By Jove!" he cried within himself--indeed he could not tell whether he
uttered the words out loud or not--"There's something in this beastly
old business after all, if only I can stick to it!"
Oblivious for the moment of everything else, even of Hilsey, even of his
adoration, he vowed that he would.
All this was the doing of quiet old Mr. Mayne with his winking eyelid.
Why had he done it? That too Arthur now forgot to ask. He remembered
nothing save the battle with Mr. Tiddes. He had tasted blood.