‘Ah!’ said Soames; ‘I forgot. You make nothing of that sort of thing there, I believe.’ And taking his daughter’s arm, he led her forth.
‘I wonder if old Blythe will turn up,’ he heard Michael say, when they passed the office of The Outpost. It was the first remark made in the cab, and, calling for no response, it was the last.
The Law Courts had their customary air, and people, in black and blue, were hurrying into them. ‘Beetle-trap!’ muttered Michael. Soames rejected the simile with his elbow – for him they were just familiar echoing space, concealed staircases, stuffy corridors, and the square enclosures of one voice at a time.
Too early, they went slowly up the stairs. Really, it was weak-minded! Here they had come – they and the other side – to get – what? He was amazed at himself for not having insisted on Fleur’s apologizing. Time and again in the case of others, all this had appeared quite natural – in the case of his own daughter, it now seemed almost incredibly idiotic. He hurried her on, however, past lingering lawyers’ clerks, witnesses, what not. A few low words to an usher, and they were inside, and sitting down. Very young Nicholas was already in his place, and Soames so adjusted himself that there would be a thickness of Sir James, when he materialized, between them. Turning to confer, he lived for a cosy moment in the past again, as might some retired old cricketer taking block once more. Beyond young Nicholas he quartered the assemblage with his glance. Yes, people had got wind of it! He knew they would – with that cat always in the public eye – quite a lot of furbelows up there at the back, and more coming. He reversed himself abruptly; the jury were filing in – special, but a common-looking lot! Why were juries always common-looking? He had never been on one himself. He glanced at Fleur. There she sat, and what she was feeling he couldn’t tell. As for young Michael, his ears looked very pointed. And just then he caught sight of Annette. She’d better not come and sit down here, after all – the more there were of them in front, the more conspicuous it would be! So he shook his head at her, and waved towards the back. Ah! She was going! She and Winifred and Imogen would take up room – all rather broad in the beam; but there were still gaps up there. And suddenly he saw the plaintiff and her lawyer and MacGown; very spry they looked, and that insolent cat was smiling! Careful not to glance in their direction, Soames saw them sit down, some six feet off. Ah! and here came Counsel – Foskisson and Bullfry together, thick as thieves. They’d soon be calling each other ‘my friend’ now, and cutting each other’s throats! He wondered if he wouldn’t have done better after all to let the other side have Foskisson, and briefed Bullfry – an ugly-looking customer, broad, competent and leathery. He and Michael with Fleur between them, and behind – Foskisson and his junior; Settlewhite and the Scotchman with ‘that cat’ between them, and behind – Bullfry and his junior! Only the Judge wanted now to complete the pattern! And here he came! Soames gripped Fleur’s arm and raised her with himself. Bob! Down again! One side of Brane’s face seemed a little fuller than the other; Soames wondered if he had toothache, and how it would affect the proceedings.
And now came the usual ‘shivaree’ about such and such a case, and what would be taken next week, and so on. Well ! that was over, and the Judge was turning his head this way and that, as if to see where the field was placed. Now Bullfry was up:
‘If it please Your Lordship –’
He was making the usual opening, with the usual flowery description of the plaintiff – granddaughter of a marquess, engaged to a future Prime Minister… or so you’d think!… prominent in the most brilliant circles, high-spirited, perhaps a thought too high-spirited… . Baggage !… the usual smooth and subacid description of the defendant!… Rich and ambitious young married lady… . Impudent beggar !… Jury would bear in mind that they were dealing in both cases with members of advanced Society, but they would bear in mind, too, that primary words had primary meanings and consequences, whatever the Society in which they were uttered. H’m! Very sketchy reference to the incident in Fleur’s drawing-room – minimized, of course – ha! an allusion to himself – man of property and standing – thank you for nothing! Reading the libellous letter now! Effect of them… very made-up, all that !… Plaintiff obliged to take action… . Bunkum! ‘I shall now call Mrs Ralph Ppynrryn.’
‘How do you spell that name, Mr Bullfry?’