of the others, said, “What I make of it is that this legal chap – what’s his name? – Silverborn – doesn’t know what the hell the answer to the diplomatic point is. And like all solicitors when they don’t know the answer, he’s going scuttling off to Counsel.
The others nodded. Hartshorn said, “So you’ve all missed it. I did, the first time I read it. Look at what Mullen says right at the end.”
“You mean when he’s getting annoyed about the law’s delays?”
“Right. His exact words are, ‘I never anticipated being here for more than a few weeks at the outside.’”
“I think I see what you’re getting at,” said Mkeba, slowly. “The best chance Mullen has is to make out that he’s come here on some sort of diplomatic posting. But if he was only planning to be here for a week or two at the outside, that knocks out any suggestion that he’s come here to take up a post. Right?”
“Exactly right. I don’t say that it’s conclusive. But if it was sprung on him in court it would give Mullen a very difficult question to answer.”
“ If it was sprung on him,” said Govan. “How do you intend to arrange that?”
“I don’t know,” said Hartshorn. “Not yet. But I’m going to find out.”
On that same Friday and at about the same time Bantings were shutting up shop for the week. The younger members of the firm were chattering happily as they went down the steps outside the senior partner’s window and headed for the delights of the weekend. Filing cabinets were being slammed and word processors and fax machines locked away. Complicated, expensive and superfluous toys, thought Mr. Banting and smiled when he suddenly remembered that his grandfather had said exactly the same when typewriters had first been introduced.
He was in no hurry to leave the office. Since the death of his wife he had lived in a set of chambers above Old Square and returning to them had no particular attraction for him. His eye was caught by a headline in the Evening Standard which his secretary had brought in with his five o’clock cup of tea.
SOUTH AFRICA – MAGISTRATE’S ATTACK
When he had skimmed through the item, which was not as exciting as the headline (had he visualised, for a moment, one of the more pugnacious London stipendiaries piloting a bomber over Johannesburg?) he dialled Roger Sherman’s number on the office line. Roger said, “If you’ll give me five minutes, sir, to finish signing my letters, I’ll be right along.”
“Take as long as you like,” said Mr. Banting.
As has already been suggested, he approved of Roger, and this for a number of reasons unconnected with the law; because he was easy to talk to and had a sense of humour; because he had married an attractive girl called Harriet whom Mr. Banting had monopolised at the last firm’s dinner; above all because he had lived a chunk of his life in very different surroundings before coming into the law. Mr. Banting was honest enough to admit that it was only the happenstance of war breaking out in 1939 that had enabled him to do the same himself, but this did not affect his outlook on the matter. He realised that not all of his partners shared his feelings.
When Roger arrived he, too, had a copy of the Evening Standard. He said, “We all knew that the hearing this morning was a formality. We were up before Lauderdale, in the Southwest London Court. As usual he looked as though his breakfast had disagreed with him.”
“Gastric ulcers, I’m told.”
“Is that right? Anyway, there was really no need for anyone to do more than apply for an adjournment, which he was bound to grant. The Branch Crown Prosecutor was a man called Totten—”
“I remember him. Face like a King Charles Spaniel.”
“He was a very worried spaniel. When we were having a chat afterwards he wasted a quarter of an hour telling me that he was so overworked that he hardly had a moment to sit down. I must say, it does sound as if he’s
The others nodded. Hartshorn said, “So you’ve all missed it. I did, the first time I read it. Look at what Mullen says right at the end.”
“You mean when he’s getting annoyed about the law’s delays?”
“Right. His exact words are, ‘I never anticipated being here for more than a few weeks at the outside.’”
“I think I see what you’re getting at,” said Mkeba, slowly. “The best chance Mullen has is to make out that he’s come here on some sort of diplomatic posting. But if he was only planning to be here for a week or two at the outside, that knocks out any suggestion that he’s come here to take up a post. Right?”
“Exactly right. I don’t say that it’s conclusive. But if it was sprung on him in court it would give Mullen a very difficult question to answer.”
“ If it was sprung on him,” said Govan. “How do you intend to arrange that?”
“I don’t know,” said Hartshorn. “Not yet. But I’m going to find out.”
On that same Friday and at about the same time Bantings were shutting up shop for the week. The younger members of the firm were chattering happily as they went down the steps outside the senior partner’s window and headed for the delights of the weekend. Filing cabinets were being slammed and word processors and fax machines locked away. Complicated, expensive and superfluous toys, thought Mr. Banting and smiled when he suddenly remembered that his grandfather had said exactly the same when typewriters had first been introduced.
He was in no hurry to leave the office. Since the death of his wife he had lived in a set of chambers above Old Square and returning to them had no particular attraction for him. His eye was caught by a headline in the Evening Standard which his secretary had brought in with his five o’clock cup of tea.
SOUTH AFRICA – MAGISTRATE’S ATTACK
When he had skimmed through the item, which was not as exciting as the headline (had he visualised, for a moment, one of the more pugnacious London stipendiaries piloting a bomber over Johannesburg?) he dialled Roger Sherman’s number on the office line. Roger said, “If you’ll give me five minutes, sir, to finish signing my letters, I’ll be right along.”
“Take as long as you like,” said Mr. Banting.
As has already been suggested, he approved of Roger, and this for a number of reasons unconnected with the law; because he was easy to talk to and had a sense of humour; because he had married an attractive girl called Harriet whom Mr. Banting had monopolised at the last firm’s dinner; above all because he had lived a chunk of his life in very different surroundings before coming into the law. Mr. Banting was honest enough to admit that it was only the happenstance of war breaking out in 1939 that had enabled him to do the same himself, but this did not affect his outlook on the matter. He realised that not all of his partners shared his feelings.
When Roger arrived he, too, had a copy of the Evening Standard. He said, “We all knew that the hearing this morning was a formality. We were up before Lauderdale, in the Southwest London Court. As usual he looked as though his breakfast had disagreed with him.”
“Gastric ulcers, I’m told.”
“Is that right? Anyway, there was really no need for anyone to do more than apply for an adjournment, which he was bound to grant. The Branch Crown Prosecutor was a man called Totten—”
“I remember him. Face like a King Charles Spaniel.”
“He was a very worried spaniel. When we were having a chat afterwards he wasted a quarter of an hour telling me that he was so overworked that he hardly had a moment to sit down. I must say, it does sound as if he’s
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