‘Objection overruled. Mr Hastings.’
‘Mr P-P-Puncknowle,’ Edward began, ‘I would like to draw your attention to various documents relating to the first of your p-p-public companies.’ There was a rustle as judge, jury and defendant riffled through their papers for the relevant piece. Sarah Henderson wished the letter P could be erased from the English alphabet. Something told Powerscourt that things might be all right if Edward could get through the next ten minutes and into his rhythm.
‘P-P-Page three, line seven, sir.’ Edward appeared to have decided to avoid using the Puncknowle surname altogether. ‘The figure for commission for the disposal of these shares is some thirteen thousand p-p-pounds.’ Edward turned his absurdly young-looking face round to address the jury. ‘The normal figure for commission in the City for such a figure would be between two and three thousand p-pounds. Why, sir,’ he turned back to face Jeremiah Puncknowle, ‘was the figure so large?’
Puncknowle smiled avuncularly at Edward. ‘I believe you must have been six or seven years old when that company was floated, young man. No doubt your expertize in its figures began at a very early age. The figure was such, sonny, because nobody had tried to sell shares to this class of person before and the intermediaries had to be well rewarded. I don’t suppose they were teaching you any financial lessons at school at the time. You were probably still learning to read.’
There was a low muttering from the public gallery. Powerscourt heard Sarah muttering ‘Disgraceful’ to herself several times. Her hand was still locked in his own. But Edward didn’t seem very concerned.
‘We shall have to take your word for it, sir, that these monies went to the intermediaries, not to line the pockets of yourself and your colleagues. I come now to an entry on the next page. Halfway down under the heading Property there is an entry of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds credit.’ He turned again. ‘I would remind you, gentlemen of the jury, that it is this holding which puts the company into profit and enables it to pay its enormous dividend. Perhaps you could tell the court, sir, what and where these various properties were?’
Jeremiah looked flustered. ‘I cannot remember, sonny,’ he said finally, ‘any more than you can remember what toys you had at the same time when you were seven years old.’
‘I would suggest you try again, Mr P-Puncknowle,’ said Edward in a calm yet firm voice. ‘After all, you have had six or seven years yourself to prepare your defence against these charges.’
There was laughter from the public gallery and a low cheer from Edward’s supporters’ club, the clerk looking as though the horse lately at the back of the field, once in danger of falling down completely, was now moving cleanly through the other runners and might even be first to the winning post. There was a lowish rumble that might or might not be a throat being cleared from the judge.
This time there was no answer from Puncknowle. Not bad, Powerscourt thought to himself, reducing a figure of this stature to silence at Edward’s age. Perhaps they were witnessing a historic moment that would be talked about in hushed tones for years to come, like Shakespeare’s first play or Gladstone’s maiden speech.
‘I put it to you, Mr P-Puncknowle, that it is much better for you to have forgotten the details of those properties. And since you have no recollection of them, I will tell the members of the jury what was going on.’ Edward looked down at his notes once more and faced the jury. ‘What we have here,’ he went on, ‘is essentially a conjuring trick. The p-p-property concerned was a group of hotels in London which were initially p-purchased by another of Mr P-Puncknowle’s companies, the Barnsley Development Corporation, for forty thousand pounds. Then they were sold on to another company owned by Mr Puncknowle for one hundred and twenty thousand pounds. I should add that no substantial improvements were made to the hotels between the two purchases. Nor were there any improvements made before the final sale to the Puncknowle Property Company for two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. We have been unable to find any traces of payment. The whole exercise was designed to increase the apparent assets of the Puncknowle company to the point where it could appear solvent. Without this sum, which existed only on paper, the company would have been bankrupt.’
Mr Puncknowle was on the verge of losing his temper. ‘Stuff and nonsense, sonny! Stuff and nonsense! Fairy stories, that’s what he’s telling you, members of the jury, he’s still of an age when fairy stories are all he can understand.’
Edward had had enough. ‘I would remind you, Mr Puncknowle,’ – the age difference between the two must have been nearly forty years – ‘of the conventions concerning the behaviour of defendants and witnesses towards the barristers appearing before them in court. Any more insults from you and I shall have to ask the judge to arraign you for contempt.’
There was a smattering of applause from the public gallery. Mr Justice Webster glowered fiercely at the spectators and the noise fell away. Jeremiah Puncknowle looked down at his boots. A smile flickered across the normally sphinx-like features of Sir Isaac Redhead. Charles Augustus Pugh slapped his thigh. Sarah squeezed Powerscourt’s hand even tighter. Edward looked at his watch. He was extraordinarily tired.
‘If I could make a suggestion, my lord,’ Edward was addressing Mr Justice Webster directly now, ‘the next area of cross-examination has to do with the dividend payments, my lord, a complicated matter, needing considerable exposition. It could take well over an hour. I have no doubt that the jury are perfectly capable of holding half of the matter in their heads overnight, but I would feel I had performed my service to the Crown with more clarity if we could handle the question all together.’
He’s saying the jury are too stupid to take it in two halves, Powerscourt said to himself. He felt the pressure of Sarah’s hand beginning to abate.
‘Sir Isaac, do you have a problem with this suggestion?’ said the judge.
‘No, my lord, we are in agreement with it.’
And so Mr Justice Webster ended Edward’s first day in court as a speaking barrister. Both Sir Isaac and Charles Augustus Pugh congratulated him on his debut. Edward watched in a daze as the spectators and the barristers and the instructing solicitors left the court. Powerscourt hastened off to Queen’s Inn to a meeting with Detective Chief Inspector Beecham. Eventually only Edward and Sarah were left.
‘Edward,’ said Sarah, ‘I am so proud of you. You were wonderful.’
Edward’s reply was to hold her very tight and kiss her passionately on the lips. He had had enough of words for one afternoon.
In the middle of the embrace Edward heard a door opening. The judge had forgotten some of his papers. Edward and Sarah disengaged themselves as fast as they could. Edward looked anxiously at Mr Justice Webster. He seemed to be staring at Sarah with some interest. Was there some terrible penalty, Edward wondered, for being caught kissing your beloved right under the judge’s chair in a Court of the Queen’s Bench?
‘Objection, my lord?’ Edward asked in a quizzical voice.
The judge smiled at the two of them. It was, though they did not know it, the smile of a grandfather looking at his favourite granddaughter, rather than the smile of a High Court judge.
‘Objection overruled, Edward. Carry on.’
The judge shuffled off back to his quarters. As the door closed behind him they heard the faint echo of a judicial chuckle echoing down the corridors of the Royal Courts of Justice.
12
Spring seemed to have turned back to winter as Powerscourt’s cab took him on the short journey from railway station to house at Calne. Sheets of rain were pounding on the vehicle’s roof and the wheels were throwing up jets of spray as they raced through the wide puddles that formed on the narrow road. The sky was dark and angry. The deer in the park had become invisible, huddling beneath the trees or trying to take shelter behind one of the great stone walls that enclosed the house and inner estate.