Copyright & Information
Natural Causes
First published in 1953
© Estate Henry Cecil; House of Stratus 1953-2011
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
The right of Henry Cecil to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted.
This edition published in 2011 by House of Stratus, an imprint of
Stratus Books Ltd., Lisandra House, Fore Street, Looe,
Cornwall, PL13 1AD, UK.
Typeset by House of Stratus.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library and the Library of Congress.
This is a fictional work and all characters are drawn from the author’s imagination.
Any resemblance or similarities to persons either living or dead are entirely coincidental.
www.houseofstratus.com
About the Author
Judge Henry Cecil Leon was born in Norwood Green Rectory near London in 1902. In 1923 he was called to the Bar and from 1949 to 1967 he served as a County Court judge. He developed his writing skills whilst serving with the British Army during the Second World War, reputedly telling stories to officers at the behest of his colonel, so as to keep their minds off alcohol whilst sailing on ‘dry’ ships. These stories formed the basis of his first collection, Full Circle, published in 1948. Thereafter, the legal year, his impressions at court, or at other official functions, as well as dinners at the Savoy Grill or at his club, the Garrick, all provided material for his considerable brain power.
He wrote during the three-week-long family holidays which were usually spent in comfortable hotels in Britain. He would sit in a deck chair in a sunny garden, exercise book on lap and pen in hand, writing from 10 am to 1pm, then again from 2.30 to 4 pm each day.
Cecil had an extraordinary ability to examine the law in both a humorous and a more serious, analytical way, providing a series of thought provoking works.
Many of his stories have been made into films or plays – notably ‘Brothers-in-Law’ and ‘Alibi for a Judge’. These and other books have also provided a stimulus for those wishing to take up law as a career, although whilst dealing with the legal system they also have more than an element of the mystery/thriller genre about them. They are a delight for those who look for authenticity in the most aptly described British characters.
Cecil died in May 1976, still at the height of his mental powers.
CHAPTER ONE
Tame Solicitor
Some three years before the attempt was made to blackmail a High Court judge a young solicitor, Gilbert Swanley, walked into the offices of the London Clarion. Had he not done so the attempt would never have been made. Indeed, it would not have occurred to the blackmailer to make it. Yet Gilbert never met the judge and had not the remotest connection with him. It was simply that his was the earliest act to which the crime can be traced. In the same way you may owe your existence to some trifling events, such as the dropping of a stitch and consequent missing of a train; had they not occurred your father would never have met your mother. It was to that extent, and to that extent only, that Gilbert Swanley was responsible for the terrible dilemma which eventually faced a High Court judge, a judge of the highest reputation, publicly and privately, whose integrity was rightly unquestioned.
Gilbert Swanley had applied for the post of private solicitor to the Chairman and Managing Director of a company which owned a number of important newspapers, of which the London Clarion was the largest. In fact he had nearly withdrawn his application in view of quite an attractive proposal which was made to him by a firm of London solicitors. But the interview was offered while he was considering the solicitors’ proposal and he decided to attend it before making up his mind. He walked into the offices of the London Clarion, said who he was, and was told to wait. To his surprise he had only been waiting a few minutes when he was shown into the office of the great man himself. Alexander Bean was a remarkable man. Starting as a newsboy he had eventually become the controller of some of the most influential newspapers in England. He was entirely self-educated, but, as part of his education, he had taken the trouble to acquire quite a cultivated voice. He was neither proud nor ashamed of starting as a newsboy. It was irrelevant. He was not one of those who think that the possession of a strong Cockney accent is an asset to a man in an important position. He was not in the least a snob. He simply had the fixed intention of succeeding at anything to which he put his hand. All opposition must be and would be overcome. He had great business acumen, he was not a gambler but would take extreme risks if the occasion appeared to justify his taking them and, in vital matters, he had never been proved wrong yet. In matters which he did not consider vital he would sometimes make mistakes, almost deliberately; the reason was simple; on such occasions he did not consider the pros and cons of the affair itself but only his own self-importance. He would, for example, consider it a vital matter that he should not be executed or go to prison, but, subject to that and any similar qualification, he would disregard the law entirely if he thought fit. Laws were made for smaller people, not for Alexander Bean. The exception was, of course, any law he made himself, and this could easily be changed without the necessity of lengthy proceedings in Parliament or the Law Courts. He was ruthless, generous, eccentric, and capable of immense hard work. He was inordinately vain; he firmly believed that there was no task too difficult for him to carry out successfully and he desired other people to think this too. He was quick to reward good service and quick to take offence. No one could be quite sure what he would do next. He knew that he had the reputation for giving sudden and wholly unexpected orders to his staff. He enjoyed this reputation. He was, in short, a true megalomaniac.
When Gilbert Swanley was shown into the great man’s room Alexander Bean simply looked at him. The door was closed and the two of them were left alone, the Chairman sitting in his chair, Gilbert standing and wondering how the interview would begin. He was an able young man and, having regard to Mr Bean’s reputation, was quite prepared for the conversation to proceed on unorthodox lines, but he proposed to take his cue from Mr Bean. So, while Mr Bean sat and looked at him standing, he stood and looked at Mr Bean sitting. If it’s a game of who can keep up staring longest, he said to himself, I can play at that. He was, in fact, an expert and had been since childhood when he and his twin sister had practised it for what seemed in those days like hours. Eventually Mr Bean had to make the first move.
‘Well?’ he said.
‘This is an interview for the purpose of your choosing a tame solicitor, sir. I am one of the applicants.’
‘I see,’ said Mr Bean, and relapsed into silence. Gilbert stood his ground and waited for the next cue. It came after three-quarters of a minute, actually timed by Mr Bean from his watch.
‘Are you a solicitor?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Tame?’
‘Within the meaning of the advertisement, yes. Otherwise, I should say no, sir.’
There was silence again. This had continued for an exact minute and a half when Mr Bean opened his mouth as though to speak and then closed it again without saying anything. Another minute went by. It was half past three. At this rate, thought Gilbert, I shall be late for the theatre; it starts at half past seven. Bearing in mind that he was taking Alice to the theatre and that she objected to his being late, Gilbert decided to make a move.
‘Anything else you’d like to know about me, sir, or was my letter detailed enough?’
‘Who asked you to speak?’ said Mr Bean.
‘No one, sir, but I got tired of doing nothing.’
‘You like work then?’
‘If it leads anywhere.’
‘Are you aware that the London Clarion is read in one out of every four houses in England?’
‘So it says, sir.’
‘And that includes prefabricated houses.’
‘I didn’t know that, sir.’
‘Well, you’ve learned something by coming here then.’
‘Thank you very much, sir.’
‘What for?’
‘For telling me about the prefabricated houses.’
‘That information did not interest you in the least.’
‘No, sir.’
‘Then why thank me?’
‘I was at Winchester, sir.’
‘Manners makyth Man, eh?’
‘Were you there too, sir?’
‘You know perfectly well I was not. I left school when I was fourteen. And let me tell you that manners do not make reporters, editors or newspaper proprietors.’
‘I follow that, sir, but they’re quite useful to tame solicitors.’
‘Yes, you may have a point there. D’you know any law?’
‘About as much as the average solicitor.’
‘Well – you won’t get the job on that.’
‘Very well, sir. Thank you for seeing me.’
‘I didn’t say you wouldn’t get the job. I said you wouldn’t get it on the strength of your law. As a matter of fact, no one would. Damned few lawyers – barristers or solicitors – know any law, and the few that do wouldn’t apply for this job. Let’s see if you know anything. What’s the difference between civil and criminal libel?’
‘Broadly speaking, libel to be criminal must be calculated to lead to a breach of the peace.’
‘Humph. Suppose I had an editor and wanted to fire him – what notice should I give him?’
‘None.’
‘You’ll start tomorrow. £2,500 a year to begin with. Your office is upstairs. Use your initiative. Don’t worry me with trifles. Don’t do anything important without my approval. If you don’t know the difference between what’s a trifle and what’s important, you’ll be no use to me. Good afternoon.’
That evening Gilbert, in telling Alice that he had got the job, said that he thought he could hold it for six months if he lasted a week and for three years if he lasted six months. His prophecy turned out to be almost exactly correct. He lasted three years, although he had some difficulty in lasting the first week. He had only been there a few hours when the telephone rang.
‘Legal Department?’
‘Speaking.’
‘This is Rounce and Ponsonby. Brown and Clarion Newspapers will be on tomorrow. Is Mr Bean going to give evidence?’
‘I’m afraid I’ve only just taken over. I don’t know the case. I’ll turn it up and ring you back.’
Gilbert sent for the file containing the papers relating to the action of Brown v Clarion Newspapers Ltd. The file started with a somewhat one-sided correspondence. The first letter was from Mr Brown to Mr Bean.
‘Dear Mr Bean,
I was most surprised when your secretary telephoned me that my services would no longer be required and that I was not to attend at the office any more. Might I have an explanation, please? Am I supposed to be dismissed? If so, why? In any event, I am entitled to notice and shall hold myself at your disposal pending hearing from you.
Yours sincerely,
ANDREW BROWN.’
The next letter was dated seven days later.
‘Dear Mr Bean,
I have had no answer to my letter of the 2nd inst and must ask you to be good enough to let me have a reply. In particular, I must know whether you wish to make use of my services during the appropriate period of notice. Please let me have a definite answer by return.’
There was a reply to that letter. It was as follows:
‘Dear Mr Brown,
Here is your definite answer. No.
Yours sincerely,
ALEXANDER BEAN.’
A few days later Mr Brown returned to the assault.
‘Dear Mr Bean,
In view of your letter I am treating myself as wrongfully dismissed by your Company and I shall be glad to know what compensation you propose to offer me. I shall, of course, now seek other suitable employment, but, as you were well aware when you first employed me, mine is a rather specialised job and it is not easy to find vacancies.’
Fourteen days went by. Then:
‘Dear Mr Bean,
‘I really must ask you to answer my letter of the 15th inst. I am still without employment.
Yours faithfully,
ANDREW BROWN.’
There was a reply to that letter.
‘Dear Mr Brown,
I am not surprised.
Yours sincerely,
ALEXANDER BEAN.’
Then came another from Mr Brown.
‘Dear Mr Bean,
In view of your last offensive letter I am placing the whole matter in the hands of my solicitors.
Yours faithfully,
ANDREW BROWN.’
The next letter was from Mr Brown’s solicitors.
‘Dear Sir,
We have been consulted by our client Mr Andrew Brown in regard to his employment by your Company. Mr Brown was employed under an oral contract at a salary of £950 per annum. In view of the nature of his employment, we have advised him that he was entitled at the least to six months’ notice of termination, but on the 31st March you caused him to be wrongfully dismissed without any notice at all. We have accordingly advised our client that he is entitled to claim as damages from you £475 less any sum he may be able to earn during the remainder of the six months. So far he has been unable to obtain any other employment. Please let us know that the claim is admitted and will be met. Otherwise we have advised our client that there is no alternative to issuing a writ against you.
Yours faithfully,
GROANER AND GROANER.’
There was no reply, and the next letter was again from Messrs Groaner and Groaner.
‘Dear Sir,
Unless we receive a reply to our letter of the 18th inst within seven days, our instructions are to issue a writ and we shall be glad to have the name of solicitors who will accept service on your behalf.’
On the sixth day Messrs Groaner and Groaner received a reply.
‘Dear Sirs,
Messrs Rounce and Ponsonby will.
Yours faithfully,
ALEXANDER BEAN.’
A writ had then been issued and, in due course, Messrs Rounce and Ponsonby had asked Mr Bean for a statement about the case. Mr Rounce himself called to see Mr Bean.
‘I haven’t much time,’ said Mr Bean. ‘What d’you want to know?’
‘Have you any defence to the action?’
‘Of course I have. The man was hopeless. Business efficiency expert, my foot. The office would have had to close down if we’d had him much longer.’
‘Inefficiency is a very difficult ground on which to justify dismissal without notice.’
‘It’s no ground at all. I know all about the law of wrongful dismissal.’ This was not strictly true, though in view of the large number of employees whom he had dismissed without reason or notice, Mr Bean had considerable experience of the situation.
‘Then what is your defence?’
‘Perfectly simple. Termination by mutual consent. All done by word of mouth. In this office. Day before he left. No one present except him and me.’
‘He agreed to leave without notice?’
‘Certainly.’
‘Well – that is rather different.’
‘Of course it is. I can’t lose, can I?’
‘Well, if the judge accepts your word –’
‘If the judge accepts my word – really, Mr Rounce, that’s a strange thing to say to me.’
‘Well, of course, I accept it,’ said Mr Rounce, not very happily, ‘but I can’t answer for every judge on the Bench.’
‘I’m not asking you to do so. It’s for the plaintiff to prove his case, isn’t it? Well, if I say that we agreed to cancel his contract, that’s an end of the matter, isn’t it?’
‘It’s for you to prove that, as a matter of fact.’
‘Rubbish. The plaintiff has to prove his case. I know a good bit more about the law than you chaps think.’
If Mr Bean had not been such an important client, Mr Rounce would probably have refused to act for him any longer, but his work was worth a very large annual sum to Messrs Rounce and Ponsonby, and so Mr Rounce had to make the best of it.
‘It’s a pity,’ he went on, ‘that you didn’t mention this termination by mutual consent in any of your letters.’
‘D’you think I’ve time to write long letters to every Tom, Dick and Harry who writes to me? Where d’you think the newspapers would be if I wasted time like that? Anyway, he never asked me if we’d agreed on termination by mutual consent. Why should I tell him?’
‘Well, Mr Bean,’ said Mr Rounce, untruthfully, ‘I quite understand what you say, but,’ he added, more truthfully, ‘I’m afraid you’re likely to be cross-examined a good bit by the plaintiff’s counsel about those letters.’
‘Cross-examined? Cross-examined? I’ve never heard of such a thing. I refuse to be cross-examined. My word should be good enough. Now I told you I could only see you for a few minutes. I’m very busy. Now, there’s a good fellow, don’t look so miserable. I know all about these actions. We’ll win it all right. Just you go ahead. Do everything necessary. Get any counsel you like. And let me have the bill in due course. Brown won’t pay your costs when you’ve won, I know. But I don’t mind about that. I’m not going to be blackmailed. So don’t you settle on any account. We’ll fight the blackguard. You’ll see. Now, run along, there’s a good fellow.’
From time to time after that interview Mr Rounce tried to find out from a succession of Mr Bean’s secretaries whether Mr Bean was prepared to give evidence or not. He sent him an extract from counsel’s Opinion saying that without Mr Bean’s evidence the plaintiff would be bound to succeed. He thought it more diplomatic at that stage not to send the remainder of the Opinion, which said that even if Mr Bean did give evidence it was most unlikely that the defence would succeed in view of the correspondence.
The substance of all this information Gilbert gathered from the file. Was it trivial or important? That was the question. He did not at that time know exactly how many actions for wrongful dismissal had been brought against Mr Bean or his Company, and, without that knowledge, it was difficult to make a decision. Eventually he made one, and went to see his employer.
‘What do you want? The whole point of having a tame solicitor is to get time to do real work.’
‘Brown v Clarion Newspapers. D’you want to give evidence?’
‘That nonsense. I thought it was settled years ago. Is it still going on?’
‘Yes, it’s in the list tomorrow.’
‘Well, tell them to settle. Anything else as you’re here?’
‘No, thank you, sir. I think it’s a very sensible course. You’d have been bound to lose.’
‘And who the hell asked for your opinion? It isn’t even right. If I chose to give evidence, we’d win for certain. But I can’t waste my time listening to counsel and judges talking all day. I’d get nothing else done. And I’d have you know, Swanley, that if I say an action will be won, it will be won. Wrongful dismissal or any other. What notice are you on anyway?’
