‘I said. The accusation about the bribes is wholly false.’
‘When you made that secret visit to Sebastian Sleaven, did you or did you not warn him that his brother was going to be exposed for paying you money in exchange for you granting him favours?’
‘Both Sebastian and Oscar Sleaven knew what you were going to say about us.’
‘Did you discuss that with Sebastian on that evening?’
‘I did.’
‘And two days later Oscar Sleaven blew his brains out. Are you asking the jury to believe that his suicide had nothing to do with your talk with his brother? That it was pure coincidence that shortly after you called on his brother and before this trial commenced Oscar Sleaven killed himself?’
‘No, it may not be pure coincidence. I don’t know what was the state of his mind or of his health when he shot himself. For all I know he may have been ill, terminally ill. I don’t know. But what I am quite sure of is that his death was ultimately due to the poison your clients have spread about him and about me, and that you are still spreading here today.’
‘By the poison, do you mean what you call a libel and I call a truth?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you trying to suggest, then, that the newspaper is responsible for Oscar Sleaven’s death?’
‘I suggest that without this publication by your clients I do not think Oscar Sleaven would have died.’
‘Because he wouldn’t have been found out?’
‘No. Because he wouldn’t have been falsely accused.’
There was a moment of silence while Mordecai stared at the tall figure in the witness box. Tancred stood very straight, but his face was paler than before. He had not known that they knew of his visit to Sebastian Sleaven and he had not been ready for it.
‘Are you seriously saying to the jury that the newspaper is responsible for the death of Oscar Sleaven? Yes or no.’
‘Yes, in the way I have suggested. You, however, may put it in whatever way you wish. I am telling you and the jury that Oscar Sleaven and I are not guilty of giving and taking bribes.’
‘So you say.’ Mordecai paused. ‘You like money, don’t you? You are particularly anxious to get money for yourself, are you not?’
‘Not particularly.’
‘You’ve always wanted to get money for yourself, haven’t you?’
‘I repeat. Not particularly.’
‘Then let me give you a “for-instance”. Why did you leave the government of which you were a member?’
‘In order to bring this case,’ Tancred replied.
‘What has that to do with it?’
‘Everything. As I told my counsel, I resigned to be free to sue your clients for the libel they printed about me.’
‘That is no answer.’
‘It is my answer.’
‘You could just as well have sued while still remaining a minister.’
‘I did not think it proper to remain a member of the administration and at the same time sue for libel.’
‘Why not?’
‘Since the publication of the diary extracts by your clients, I was under a cloud. To remain in government would have embarrassed my colleagues.’
‘Why? Others in public life have remained ministers and sued for libel.’
‘They may have. I do not know. All I know is that because of your clients’ accusation of a corrupt financial relationship I had to clear my name. It would not have been fair to my colleagues, nor to the department I was administering, to have remained in office. That was my reason for leaving.’
‘The only reason?’
‘Yes.’
‘Let me suggest another reason, the real reason. You thought you’d get more money in damages if you came before a jury – as you are now before this jury – and claimed that what the newspaper published forced you out of government. That these wicked people, who you also apparently say are responsible for the death of Sleaven, have ruined your great career and, to recompense you, the jury must give you a very great deal of money. Wasn’t that the real reason why you resigned from the government?’
‘No. It was not.’
‘But it’s money that you are after here, in this court, isn’t it?’
‘I am claiming damages.’
‘You certainly are. You are asking for general and punitive damages. General damages for ruining your career; punitive damages to punish the newspaper. Money to end up in your pocket. Isn’t that what you are after?’
‘I was advised that it was necessary to ask for damages as only an award of damages would demonstrate the falseness of what your people published about me; and secondly to teach them a lesson for their irresponsible and reckless disregard for the truth.’
Mordecai paused, his eye still fixed on Tancred. ‘I shall return to the question of money as I shall to your mysterious visit to Sebastian Sleaven, but would you agree that if what the newspaper published about you was true,’ he said more quietly, ‘they were only doing what a responsible newspaper should do? Namely, exposing a corrupt minister. Isn’t that the public duty of a newspaper in a democracy?’
‘If it were true, perhaps. But it isn’t true.’
‘So you say. So you keep saying. But as this case progresses we may learn otherwise.’
Patrick Foxley said from his place, ‘That is a statement, not a question.’
Mordecai turned towards him and snarled, ‘If you wish to object, do it standing – not skulking in your seat.’
Patrick got to his feet. ‘I certainly shall interrupt if counsel makes statements and does not ask questions when his duty is to cross-examine.’
‘I do not need to be taught my duty by young—’
‘Mr Ledbury, Mr Foxley,’ the judge intervened. ‘There’s no need to squabble. Let us get on with the cross-examination.’
‘Exactly,’ Mordecai agreed. ‘And without unnecessary and childish interruptions.’
‘That is also unnecessary, Mr Ledbury,’ the judge said. ‘Please let us get on.’
Mordecai glared at the judge but said nothing. Oliver Goodbody swung round in his seat and looked up at Mordecai. ‘Don’t quarrel,’ he whispered. ‘It’s going too well.’
Mordecai glared back at him before turning once more to Tancred. ‘Let us return to the subject of money. You have a great interest in money, have you not?’
‘No more than most.’
‘But like the money that you are after here in this court today, money you want the jury to award you, it was also money that you were after when you were in government. Isn’t that true?’
‘As for the second part of your suggestion, it is untrue. As to the first, I said that I am asking for damages for the wrong that your people have done me. I had to leave the government in order to fight this case.’
‘As I said, others who believed they had been wronged have remained as ministers and brought actions for libel. I suggest you left government only because you thought that it would make your position more sympathetic to the jury and swell the damages. Isn’t that so?’
‘No, it is not.’
‘So that you could plead that the newspaper had ruined your career. Isn’t that it?’
‘No, it is not.’
‘For how long were you in politics?’
‘Ten years.’
‘How long in the Cabinet?’
‘Five years.’
‘For half a decade you were at the top of the tree, in the Cabinet, the pinnacle sought by every ambitious politician.’ He looked at the jury. ‘Not the most highly regarded trade, politics, is it?’
‘No more than the trade of lawyer.’
A titter arose in the court. Good for Tancred, Anna thought, from the back row. She’d seen that he’d been troubled by the earlier questions and the jury would have, also.
Patrick half smiled. Tancred’s visit to Sebastian Sleaven had come as a shock. Why had he gone to see Sleaven the night before he had come to the conference and before he’d driven back
to France? It could only have been to warn him. Patrick was relieved that they had moved on. From now on at least Tancred would be ready for it.
When Tancred made that reply about lawyers, Mordecai turned away from the jury and almost faced Walter Morrison, his junior counsel sitting in the row behind him. Walter saw, although the jury could not, the hint of a wink before Mordecai turned back to the witness. ‘Before you became a politician you were a diplomat?’
‘I was.’
‘Did you give up diplomacy so that you could make money?’
‘I wanted somewhat more than I was receiving as a salary in the Foreign Service.’
‘So you moved on into business. That was to make more money?’
‘Yes.’
‘And did you?’
‘Yes, more than I earned as a diplomat.’
‘Next you left business and moved into politics. Was that because you thought you’d make even more money?’
‘Certainly not,’ Tancred replied. ‘There’s no money to be made in politics.’
‘You mean no money to be made in honest politics?’
‘Of course.’
‘But if to make more money was not the reason for your previous career moves, what was your reason for going into politics?’
Tancred was silent for a time. ‘To contribute, to serve,’ he replied at last.
‘Contribute to what?’
Again Tancred paused. Then, ‘To the country,’ he said.
‘Contribute to the country!’ Mordecai’s stick banged on the floor. He bent forward. ‘You went into politics to contribute to the country.’ He swung round towards the jury. ‘You wanted to contribute service for the sake of the country?’
‘That’s what I said.’
‘What do you mean by contributing to your country?’
‘I thought that if I entered public service I might be of some use.’
‘To whom? To yourself?’
‘No, although I admit that I liked the idea of serving.’
‘This sounds very fine, very public-spirited,’ said Mordecai sarcastically. ‘Giving service to your country?’
‘Yes.’
Mordecai bent forward again, leaning with both hands on the desk. ‘I suggest that the public service you now describe so high-mindedly meant nothing more than self-service.’
‘No.’
‘Looking after yourself?’
‘No, certainly not.’
‘But this service of which you speak in such a highfalutin way – Mordecai paused, then went on more loudly – ‘was it honest service?’
‘Of course it was.’
‘Or is the truth that you were and always have been driven by ambition, vanity and greed – and a determination to find an opportunity to feather your nest?’
‘Ambition, yes,’ Tancred replied, ‘I suppose I had ambition. Vanity, yes, a little vanity. Because I thought I could be of use. But to feather my nest, no.’
‘Getting money, greed for money. Hasn’t that been your lifelong preoccupation?’
‘No, it has not.’
‘You had no money when you left university and went into the diplomatic service, had you?’
‘No.’
‘And you didn’t make much money from the trade of the diplomat – going abroad and lying for your country – did you?’
‘No.’
Mordecai paused. ‘Or was it spying for your country? Was that what you were really doing?’
For a second Tancred hesitated. But Walter Morrison had tugged at Mordecai’s gown and handed him a piece of paper. Mordecai looked at it and nodded, his attention distracted from the witness.
‘I was a diplomat,’ Tancred said. ‘I did what a diplomat had to do.’
The moment passed.
‘Did you get much money out of business?’ Mordecai went on.
‘A little. Enough to make a political career possible.’
‘And you thought that politics would bring you more?’
‘I did not.’
‘Were you not anxious – no, I must choose my words carefully – were you not determined to get money out of politics?’
‘I was not.’
Mordecai held the sheet of paper Walter had passed to him. ‘In the extract of the diary published by the Sunday News there’s a passage about a conversation in a house at Oldhaven in the States when you are reported as saying that you’d stay in politics only as long as it afforded you some chance of getting some money. Do you remember that?’
‘I remember something to that effect in the diary.’
‘To that very effect. You were overheard talking about getting money from politics. What did you mean by that?’
‘I didn’t mean anything.’
‘Getting money from politics,’ Mordecai repeated. ‘How do you get money from politics?’ Mordecai rapped the desk. ‘Honest politics that is.’
‘You don’t.’
‘No, you don’t. But you were heard to say that you were going to get money out of politics. That can only mean, can it not, getting money out of corrupt, crooked politics?’ Tancred shrugged as Mordecai went on quickly, ‘Money out of politics? Getting money out of politics? That was what you were in politics for and that is exactly what you have done. You’ve got money from politics?’
‘No. I have not. That is what your newspaper accuses me of doing but it is untrue.’
‘We shall see about that.’ Patrick stirred as if he were going to object again but Mordecai gave him no opportunity. ‘I ask you for a last time. What did you mean when you said that you intended to get money from politics?’
‘I did not say that.’
‘The diarist records that you did. He wrote down what you said.’
‘The diarist is wrong.’
‘How was he wrong?’
‘Because I never said what he claimed I said.’
‘Why do you think that the diarist should have written in his journal that he heard you say you wanted to get money from politics if you never said it? Was Francis Richmond such an enemy of yours that he’d invent that?’
‘Francis Richmond was not a friend but I did not regard him as an enemy.’
‘Then why should Richmond in his private diary—’
‘It’s not turned out to be very private since you circulated it to millions of readers.’
‘No, it’s not private now, but when Francis Richmond wrote up his journal, he might have thought that no one would ever read it. So why should he write down what you now say is false? Why should he have solemnly written in his diary that he heard you say you were out to get money from politics?’
‘I have no idea. All I know is that I never said it.’
‘Can you think of any reason why Richmond should have recorded that you said that if you had not?’
‘No, I cannot – except that he was mistaken.’
‘So you say now, when the world has read what Richmond wrote about you. But I suggest the truth is that he accurately recorded what you said. That you were out to get money from politics – and that is exactly what you have done.’
‘Is that meant to be a question?’ asked Tancred.
Mordecai waved his hand angrily. ‘You know very well what I am suggesting. That one evening in Oldhaven, New England, when you did not know you and your friends were being overheard, you said you intended to get money from politics. That is what you said then and that is what you have done. Got money by accepting bribes from Oscar Sleaven. Isn’t that the truth?’
‘No, it is not. I did not say that. For one thing—’
Mordecai interrupted. ‘I’m not interested in your one thing or your next thing. I’m—’
Patrick was on his feet. ‘My learned friend must allow the witness to give his explanation. Counsel is bullying the witness and interrupting him quite improperly.’
Mordecai turned on him angrily. ‘I will not be called a bully—’
Jack Traynor tapped loudly with his pencil. ‘Mr Ledbury, Mr Foxley. It
does not assist the jury if counsel lose their tempers with each other and squabble like schoolboys. Mr Foxley, please sit down. If the witness needs protection I shall give it to him. However, Mr Ledbury, you must allow the witness to answer and give what explanation he wishes.’
Patrick sat.
Mordecai glared as the judge. ‘Schoolboys!’ he hissed.
‘You wish to explain?’ the judge asked Tancred.
‘I do, My Lord. As I have tried to make clear to Mr Ledbury, I did not say what the diarist claims I said. At the time Francis Richmond was eavesdropping, he was trying to overhear a conversation between three persons sitting on the veranda outside the room he had entered. He could not have been sure which of the three said what and shortly after he left the room he was taken ill with a heart attack. He must have written that entry in his diary some time after the event. His account is not reliable and I repeat that I never said that I intended to get money out of my service in politics. And I never have.’
There was a pause. While Tancred had been speaking Mordecai had stood with his head bowed, leaning on his stick. Now he raised his head and glared at Tancred. ‘Who was with you on the veranda the night Richmond overheard you?’
‘Lester Chaffin, who is in the US government.’ Tancred paused. Then he said, ‘I don’t now recall who was the third.’
‘I didn’t think you would. Was it an Englishman?’
Tancred shook his head. ‘I don’t now recall.’
‘Richmond, you see, heard the voice. He writes that it was an English voice. An English voice talking about getting money out of politics. That means it was your voice. And now you are swearing that it wasn’t you?’
‘If anyone said it, which I doubt, it wasn’t me.’
‘So it was someone else who said it, someone with an English voice, someone who was in politics – and who it was you can’t remember! Is that what you are asking the jury to believe?’
‘All I can tell you is that I didn’t say what Richmond wrote I said and I very much doubt if anyone did. Richmond was a malicious gossip and he wrote this after he’d been taken ill.’
‘What do you understand from the expression, getting money from politics? It can only mean, can it not, that a person uses his office to line his pockets?’
The Richmond Diary Page 20