A Duet (with an occasional chorus) by Arthur Conan Doyle (the reading strategies book .txt) 📖

if his heart had turned suddenly from a round-shot to an air-balloon. ‘Why not liable?’

‘You were a little slapdashy, if one might say so, in matters of business, sir, and perhaps you read that bond less carefully than I did. There was a clause in it by which the Company agreed frequently and periodically to audit my accounts, so as to prevent your liability being at any time a very high one.’

‘So there was!’ cried Frank. ‘Well, didn’t they?’

‘No, sir, they didn’t.’

‘By Jove—Maude, do you hear that?—if that is right, they brought their own misfortunes upon themselves. Do you mean to say they never audited you?’

‘Yes, sir, they did so four times.’

‘In how long?’

‘In fourteen months.’

The air-balloon was gone and the cannon-ball back in its place once more.

‘That will be held to exonerate them.’

‘No, sir, I think not. “Frequently and periodically” does not mean four times in fourteen months.’

‘A jury might take it so.’

‘Consider, sir, that the object was that your liability should be limited. Thousands of pounds were passing through my hands in that time, and therefore these four audits were, as one might say, insufficient for the object of the bond.’

‘So I think,’ cried Maude, with conviction. ‘Frank, we’ll have the best advice upon the subject to-morrow.’

‘And meanwhile, Mr. Crosse,’ said Farintosh, rising from his chair, ‘I am your witness, whether the Company prosecutes me or not. And I hope that this will be some humble atonement for the trouble that I have brought you.’

And so a first rift of light began to shine in the dark place. But it was not broadened by the letter which he found waiting upon his breakfast-table -

 

Re Farintosh’s Accounts.

HOTSPUR INSURANCE OFFICE.

Dear Sir,—On arriving in London I came here at once, and checked Farintosh’s accounts from the books of the head office. I am sorry to say that I find a further discrepancy of seventy pounds. I am able, however, to assure you that we have now touched bottom. The total amount is three hundred and forty pounds, and a cheque for that sum at your early convenience would oblige us, as we are anxious to bring so unpleasant a business to a conclusion.—Yours truly,

JAMES WINGFIELD.

 

To which Frank and Maude in collaboration -

 

Dear Sir,—I note your claim for 340 pounds on account of the affairs of your agent Farintosh. I am advised, however, that there have been certain irregularities in the matter, about which I must make some investigation before paying the claim.—Yours truly,

Frank Crosse.

 

To which the Hotspur Insurance Office -

 

Sir,—Had your letter been a plea for more time to fulfil your engagement, we should have been content to wait; but since you appear disposed to dispute your liability, we have no alternative but to take immediate steps to enforce payment. -

Yours truly, JOHN WATERS, Secretary.

 

To which Frank and Maude -

 

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 pounds, 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 poena (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 subpoena all their crowd.’

‘Capital!’ cried Frank. So a clerk was sent across to the Hotspur office with a whole bundle of subpoenas, and served them liberally out. And in two days’ time was the day of battle.