Next to the Divorce Court, this court was, perhaps, the favourite
emporium of justice, libel, breach of promise, and other commercial
actions being frequently decided there. Quite a sprinkling of persons
unconnected with the law occupied the back benches, and the hat of a
woman or two could be seen in the gallery.
The two rows of seats immediately in front of James were gradually
filled by barristers in wigs, who sat down to make pencil notes, chat,
and attend to their teeth; but his interest was soon diverted from these
lesser lights of justice by the entrance of Waterbuck, Q.C., with the
wings of his silk gown rustling, and his red, capable face supported
by two short, brown whiskers. The famous Q.C. looked, as James freely
admitted, the very picture of a man who could heckle a witness.
For all his experience, it so happened that he had never seen Waterbuck,
Q.C., before, and, like many Forsytes in the lower branch of the
profession, he had an extreme admiration for a good cross-examiner. The
long, lugubrious folds in his cheeks relaxed somewhat after seeing him,
especially as he now perceived that Soames alone was represented by
silk.
Waterbuck, Q.C., had barely screwed round on his elbow to chat with
his Junior before Mr. Justice Bentham himself appeared--a thin, rather
hen-like man, with a little stoop, clean-shaven under his snowy wig.
Like all the rest of the court, Waterbuck rose, and remained on his
feet until the judge was seated. James rose but slightly; he was already
comfortable, and had no opinion of Bentham, having sat next but one to
him at dinner twice at the Bumley Tomms'. Bumley Tomm was rather a poor
thing, though he had been so successful. James himself had given him
his first brief. He was excited, too, for he had just found out that
Bosinney was not in court.
'Now, what's he mean by that?' he kept on thinking.
The case having been called on, Waterbuck, Q.C., pushing back his
papers, hitched his gown on his shoulder, and, with a semi-circular
look around him, like a man who is going to bat, arose and addressed the
Court.
The facts, he said, were not in dispute, and all that his Lordship
would be asked was to interpret the correspondence which had taken place
between his client and the defendant, an architect, with reference
to the decoration of a house. He would, however, submit that this
correspondence could only mean one very plain thing. After briefly
reciting the history of the house at Robin Hill, which he described as a
mansion, and the actual facts of expenditure, he went on as follows: