Stay of Execution

by Michael Gilbert

  “Well, well, well,” said Mr. Silverlight. “That is indeed a blessing.”

  “Topsy was run over two years ago, wasn’t she?”

  “At her age, she shouldn’t have been in the road at all.”

  “And that’s the end of them all.”

  “It’s the end of a chapter,” said Mr. Silverlight.

  And so it was, thought Mr. Rumbold. The end of a long chapter, a chapter which had started nearly twenty years before, when Miss Manciple had come in to make her will. He could see her now, sitting in the very chair occupied by Mr. Silverlight, her hands clasped over the silver knob of a black ebony walking-stick, her light grey, very slightly mad, eyes fixed disconcertingly on him.

  Her instructions, however, were perfectly clear.

  “I have no direct descendants,” she said. “The closest members of my family are my nephew, Norman, and my niece, Venetia. And when I say they are my closest relatives, I must add, Mr. Rumbold, that neither of them has been all that close. A small gift at Christmas, a card on my birthday. Is that how your family treat you?”

  “I’m lucky if they remember my birthday,” said Mr. Rumbold. “But pray proceed.”

  “My most constant and faithful companion for the last ten years has been my darling Siamese cat, Sunny. Mai Tsun is her official name, but she is always called Sunny. People will tell you that Siamese cats are aloof and unfriendly. It’s a fallacy. They are extremely intelligent, far more so than most human beings. They have extra-sensory perception, and can communicate with each other over wide distances. But they are not proud about it. If you treat them as equals they are perfectly willing to reciprocate. After I go, our sole care must be for her.”

  “You mean you wish to leave her all your money?”

  “Is that possible?”

  “Well, no,” said Mr. Rumbold, wishing that his clients would not constantly spring problems like this on him. “But what you could do is to direct that the income from your estate should be devoted to the upkeep of your present house as a home for Sunny, and to pay the wages of some suitable person to look after her. You have a companion?”

  “Miss Tape, yes.”

  Mr. Rumbold remembered Miss Tape, a mouse-like creature who sometimes accompanied Miss Manciple on her jaunts up to London.

  “Splendid,” he said. “We will direct that she shall be allowed to live in the house, be paid a salary, and look after things. I take it that when Sunny finally dies—”

  “Siamese cats do not die, Mr. Rumbold. Their souls travel onward, and upward, to a plane altogether higher than anything we can comprehend.”

  “When Sunny passes on,” amended Mr. Rumbold adroitly, “I take it you would wish Miss Tape to have an annuity—”

  “A small annuity. Her usefulness will by then be over.”

  “And subject to that, the estate then to go equally to Norman and Venetia—”

  “What happens then,” said Miss Manciple, “is a matter of indifference to me. Let me have the document to sign as soon as you can.”

  Mr. Rumbold had discussed the problem with Mr. Silverlight.

  “I suppose we’re not worried by the rule against perpetuities,” said Mr. Silverlight. “Even if the first part isn’t charitable, there’s a gift over.”

  “Surely, we have a life in being—”

  Mr. Silverlight looked doubtful. “I’d always understood that to mean a human life,” he said. “Wasn’t there a case where someone tried to settle a fund during the life span of a giant tortoise? It was overruled in the Court of Appeal.”

  “What we’ll do,” said Mr. Rumbold, “is to say that the income of the estate shall be devoted to paying the outgoings of the house and a salary of five hundred pounds a year to Miss Tape for a period of twenty-one years or the life span of the cat, Sunny, whichever is the shorter. That must be safe. A cat couldn’t possibly live to be thirty-one, could it?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Mr. Silverlight. “Who’s going to be executor?”

  “I am.”

  “There’ll be trouble over this, you know.”

  “I’m afraid so,” said Mr. Rumbold sadly.

  “That nephew, Norman. He’s not a very agreeable character. An insurance investigator, I believe.”

  “I’ve never met him. But I do remember the niece. She seemed a pleasant enough character.”

  “She’s married a stockbroker. I don’t think he’s going to like it.”

  “Don’t let’s cross our bridges before we come to them,” said Mr. Rumbold. “This blasted cat may die before Miss Manciple.”

  The trouble which Mr. Silverlight had anticipated took concrete form some three years later. The death of Miss Manciple was not unexpected. Shortly after executing her will and lodging it at her bank she had suffered the first of a number of slight strokes. For the last nine months, with her mind gradually failing, she had been confined to her bed, and her affairs had been looked after by Mr. Rumbold with the aid of a Power of Attorney.

  What did cause surprise was the will itself. For Miss Manciple had altered it. Over the clause which contained the words, “During the lifetime of my Siamese cat, Sunny,” she had inserted, in her crabbed but legible handwriting, the words, “And her legitimate offspring.”

  “We shall be in the Probate Court for certain,” said Mr. Rumbold. He said it without pleasure. Like most solicitors, he regarded litigation as a nuisance, something which disrupted the routine of the office, which might come out well, but was equally likely to come out badly, and for which in either contingency a solicitor was inadequately remunerated.

  “I hope we get a reasonable judge,” said Mr. Silverlight. “I can think of one or two who are going to be pretty scathing about this will. Why on earth did we let her monkey about with it?”

  “We had no say in the matter,” said Mr. Rumbold. “She simply took it away, said she knew how to have it executed properly – which I must admit, she has done – and popped it into her bank. I haven’t seen it from that day to this.”

  “Suppose we get Mr. Justice Ball,” said Mr. Silverlight.

  “I hope to God we don’t,” said Mr. Rumbold, and being a superstitious man, reached out to touch wood. His hand actually lighted on the base of his table lamp, which was made of plastic, and this may have accounted for the fact that when the case, In re the Estate of Alice Manciple, came in front of the Probate Division, it was set down in Mr. Justice Ball’s list.

  It is an undoubted fact that Mr. Rumbold’s reactions to this news would, at that period in the late forties, have been shared by most practising solicitors. It is less easy to explain why. Mr. Justice Ball was an excellent lawyer and a man of iron integrity. In the days when such things were liable to happen to judges he would cheerfully have gone to the Tower, or even to the block, to uphold the independence of the Judiciary against the Crown. A bachelor, and a man of austere habits, his private life was a model to a laxer generation. If he had any weaknesses, they were professional rather than human. He was reputed to dislike solicitors. This was thought to arise from the fact that, as a young barrister, he had depended to a certain extent on their patronage, and, now that he was on the Bench, was not averse to getting a bit of his own back. He was also rather over-inclined, if he felt that Counsel were not doing the job properly, to conduct cases for himself, cross-examining the witnesses on both sides at greater length than the barrister who had been hired to do so.

  Hargest Macrea Q.C. gazed round the crowded court, and reflected, not for the first time, that it was cases of no real legal significance, but of what the papers like to describe as ‘human interest’, which got all the real publicity. He was a tough and experienced advocate and had been selected by Mr. Rumbold as someone unlikely to be intimidated by the Judge.

  “The facts in this case, my lord,” he said, “are somewhat unusual. The deceased was a lady of strong character, and decided views. She was the possessor of a substantial fortune, and a freehold house at Much Hadham, where she lived, in comfortable
circumstances, looked after by her companion, Miss Tape, and enjoying the company of a highly-bred female Siamese cat.

  “These animals, as your Lordship may be aware, are exceptionally gifted creatures, and excellent companions for people of intelligence, being themselves endowed with almost supernatural powers of understanding and sympathy.”

  “You are preaching to the converted, Mr. Macrea,” said the Judge. “I happen to be the owner of such an animal.”

  Macrea, who had, of course, been well aware of this, smiled politely. He said, “This particular cat was officially named Mai Tsun, but was familiarly known in the house as Sunny.”

  “When you say ‘officially’, you mean that this was the name under which she was registered in the records of the Siamese Cat Club?”

  “That is so, my lord. These records showed that she was the offspring of a male cat, The Emperor Mu, and a female cat, Lady Lotus Flower. The records also identify the grandparents and the great-grandparents on the male and female side.”

  “Your object in this excursus into the genealogy of the animal, Mr. Macrea, is, I assume, designed to cover the expression ‘legitimate issue’?”

  “Exactly, my lord. Miss Manciple’s will has the effect, if I may use a lay expression, of tying up her estate for a period defined as ‘the lifetime of my Siamese cat, Sunny, and of her legitimate offspring’. This has been interpreted by her executor to mean kittens born as the result of a regular union which would be recognised by the Siamese Cat Club. I should add that, shortly after the will was made, Sunny did give birth to a litter of six kittens, but since it was apparent, from their colour and other characteristics, that they were the result of a casual amour with a neighbouring marmalade-coloured tom-cat they were disregarded, and were in fact disposed of. However, at the end of last year, although by then of a very advanced age for child-bearing, Sunny was successfully mated with a pedigree Siamese cat, named Rampant Orchid, and produced four kittens, one male and three female. The deceased christened the eldest two Venetia and Norman, after her niece and nephew – the plaintiffs in this case – and the two younger ones Popsy and Topsy. It was thought right to have these kittens separately represented. My learned friend Mr. Kaye appears for them.”

  “And who is paying Mr. Kaye’s fees, may I ask?”

  “Being without any means of support, they were able to obtain assistance from the Legal Aid Fund.”

  Mr. Justice Ball said something under his breath, which, perhaps fortunately, the official reporter failed to catch. It was known that he did not approve of the recently promulgated Legal Aid and Advice Act.

  “I will now call my instructing solicitor, Mr. Rumbold, who will prove the will.”

  Mr. Rumbold gave his evidence shortly, and was not cross-examined by Mr. Leopold, the barrister appearing for Norman and Venetia. The Judge, however, seemed unwilling to let him go. He said, “Am I to understand that you had no knowledge of this curious handwritten addition to the will you drew up?”

  “That is so, my lord,” said Mr. Rumbold, his heart sinking.

  “And do your clients usually attempt to improve on your draughtsmanship?’’

  “It is very unusual.”

  “Did you not ask to see the will after it had been executed?”

  “I asked Miss Manciple to return it to me, but she preferred to send it straight to her bank.”

  “Have you any idea why she should do so?”

  “Possibly, my lord, she considered that I might be critical of her amendment.”

  “That would seem to argue a lack of confidence in her solicitor,” said Mr. Justice Ball. Since this did not appear to be a question, Mr. Rumbold thought it wiser to say nothing, and the Judge, after peering at him over his spectacles with a look of loathing, dismissed him. Mr. Rumbold returned, fuming, to his seat.

  The next witness was Miss Tape. After being told, several times, by the Judge to speak up she produced a reasonably clear account of life at Much Hadham.

  The income of the estate had been sufficient to run the house, to keep Sunny, her four offspring, and Miss Tape in modest comfort. It was thought very unlikely that Sunny, now in her thirteenth year, could produce any further offspring, but the four kittens she had produced were all healthy, and might well live for twelve or even fifteen years more.

  Mr. Leopold rose to cross-examine with an insinuating smile.

  He said, “You would agree, would you not, Miss Tape, that twelve would have been an exceptional age for a cat to produce kittens.”

  “Oh yes. We were quite surprised.”

  “But did it happen, Miss Tape?”

  Miss Tape looked startled. Macrea, rising swiftly to his feet, said, “I should point out, my lord, that this witness was not present when the kittens were born. This happy event took place in the presence of the local veterinary surgeon, who will be giving evidence later.”

  “My question has been misunderstood,” said Mr. Leopold. “I am not suggesting that the four Siamese kittens, who are the third to the sixth defendants in this case, are not the legitimate offspring of a female Siamese cat. What I am suggesting is that they are not, and could not be, the offspring of the deceased’s cat, Sunny.”

  “And why do you say it is impossible, Mr. Leopold?”

  “Because, my lord, Sunny had died some months before the birth of these particular kittens.”

  Norman, whose investigations had unearthed this piece of information a week earlier, grinned unpleasantly. Macrea turned a startled gaze on Mr. Rumbold and all the reporters raised their heads at once, and then, like a line of violinists obedient to the baton of the conductor, started to scribble in unison, ‘Sensation in Court’.

  “I take it, Mr. Leopold,” said the Judge, “that you propose to produce some evidence in support of this startling assertion.”

  “Certainly,” said Mr. Leopold. “If it should be necessary.” He turned to Miss Tape, who seemed to be trying to conceal herself in the witness box, and said, “Is it not a fact, Miss Tape, that some four or five months before Miss Manciple died, Sunny herself succumbed to the onset of old age? And is it not also a fact that you approached a breeder of Siamese cats in the Midlands – a Mr. Carnworth – whom I shall call if I have to – and purchased from him an eight-year-old female cat, as closely resembling Sunny as possible, and substituted her for the deceased animal?”

  It was not possible to hear whether Miss Tape said ‘Yes’ or ‘No’. It is probable that she merely gulped.

  “Are you suggesting,” said Mr. Justice Ball, “that Miss Manciple, who was devotedly attached to her cat, would not have noticed the substitution at once?”

  “Normally, my lord, I have no doubt she would have done. But you will recollect that she had suffered from a cumulative series of strokes, and her faculties were, by that time, seriously impaired. Also she was confined to her bed, and the animal was only permitted into her room for brief periods.”

  Mr. Justice Ball turned the full force of his very considerable personality upon the witness and said, “Is what Counsel suggests correct or is it not, Miss Tape?”

  Whereupon Miss Tape had hysterics.

  The Judge said, “I will adjourn the court until this witness feels able to resume.”

  The reporters raced for the nearest telephones.

  When the court reassembled half an hour later, it was observed that Miss Tape was no longer in the box. Macrea, who had, in the interval, been doing some hard thinking and a certain amount of fast talking, rose to his feet.

  He said, “I have discussed this development with learned Counsel on the other side, my lord, and he has agreed to my suggestion that we proceed on a basis that we agree that Miss Manciple’s original pet, Sunny, did die at a date some months before her owner’s death, and that the present incumbent – if I may so express it – is another cat called Sunny, who is the mother of the third to the sixth defendants.”

  “But if you concede this, Mr. Macrea, what is left of your case?”

  “With r
espect, I must direct your Lordship’s attention to the wording of the will. This says, ‘During the lifetime of my Siamese cat, Sunny, and of her legitimate offspring’. In my submission this wording precisely covers the facts of the case as we now know them. The animal in question was a Siamese cat. It was known about the house by the name of Sunny, and it did belong to the deceased, having been very generously given to her by Miss Tape, to replace the previous animal. Her motive for concealing the substitution was the very understandable one that she did not wish to upset Miss Manciple during the closing months of her life.”

  “Even if this ingenious argument were accepted – and I feel sure that Mr. Leopold will have something to say about it—”

  “Indeed, yes, my lord.”

  “—Even if it were accepted, is it not quite plain that the animal to which Miss Manciple intended to refer in her will was not the substitute – I should almost say, the impostor – which had taken her place—”

  “I shall argue, my lord,” said Macrea, “that it has long been accepted that this court will pay very little attention to what a testator imagines they mean in their will, and will confine themselves strictly to what the words say—”

  When the court adjourned, Macrea said to Mr. Rumbold,

  “Well, it was worth trying. But it’s pretty clear that the Judge is hostile. I was surprised that he bothered to reserve judgment until tomorrow.”

  “I know exactly why he reserved judgment,” said Mr. Rumbold. “He has gone home to his bachelor apartment to spend a long and pleasant evening drafting a judgment that will be full of criticisms of the slovenly habits of solicitors, and may even go so far as to suggest that the whole thing was a plot, and that I was a party to it from the beginning. I wouldn’t put it past him to award costs against me personally.”

  “I’m afraid you may be right,” said Macrea.

  But as it turned out, they were both wrong.