Free Brief Tales From The Bench by Henry Cecil Page A

not paying.’
    ‘Very well,’ said the girl, ‘it will be on your bill just the same.’
    The plaintiff said that he then went into the dining room where he tried to sit at an empty table.
    ‘You can’t sit there, sir,’ said a waiter. ‘It’s reserved.’ The plaintiff suggested another table. ‘That’s reserved too. Are you staying in the hotel?’
    The plaintiff said that he replied that he was sorry to say that he was.
    ‘Well, the beef’s off,’ said the waiter. ‘Will you have thick, clear or sardine?’
    ‘Would you repeat that?’ said Mr Blandish.
    ‘Thick, clear or sardine?’ said the waiter.
    ‘Can I see a menu?’ said Mr Blandish.
    ‘I’m reading it out to you. Thick, clear or sardine?’
    ‘Is that all there is?’
    ‘Yes, to begin with,’ said the waiter. ‘Then there’s curried mutton to follow or cold ham. The veg is included.’
    Once again, Mr Blandish asked to see the manager. About half an hour later he arrived.
    ‘You wanted to see me, sir?’ he said.
    ‘Yes, I did. Having regard to the service and the room and the food you are offering, do you consider the statements in your letters were justified?’
    ‘You needn’t have come here,’ said the manager, ‘if you hadn’t wanted to.’
    ‘How could I tell what it would be like,’ said Mr Blandish, ‘apart from what you told me in your letters?’
    ‘Well,’ said the manager, ‘we’ve never had any complaints before, and, if you don’t like it, you needn’t come again.’
    ‘Well, I can only tell you,’ said Mr Blandish, ‘that I’m not going to pay my bill, and you can sue me for it.’
    ‘We shouldn’t dream of suing you for it,’ said the manager. ‘We shall just hold on to your luggage.’
    ‘So in order to get my luggage,’ said Mr Blandish, ‘I had to pay the bill. But I told the manager that I should sue and I’m asking for my money back and damages for a most uncomfortable night and a most unpleasant dinner which I shouldn’t have experienced but for what the defendants had written in their letter. I may add that I could have cooked a far better dinner myself.’
    Mr Blandish was then cross-examined by counsel for the defendants, but, as Mr Carstairs hardly knew the rudiments of cross-examination, it is not surprising that the plaintiff’s evidence was not shaken. The defendants then started to call their evidence. And the first witness was the resident manager of the Excelsior Hotel. His name was Thomas Cutworthy.
    I had been impressed with the evidence of Mr Blandish. He seemed a truthful and accurate witness. Moreover I myself had had some bad experiences in hotels and restaurants, and I may have been consciously or unconsciously slightly biased against the defendants in consequence. Of course judges shouldn’t be biased. But, as we are only human beings, it must sometimes happen that we are, even if we don’t appreciate it ourselves. I certainly was prepared to make some pretty scathing remarks about the defendants, if, when I’d heard the whole of the evidence, I was satisfied that the plaintiff’s case was true. I was quite ready for Mr Cutworthy to make various excuses of a kind I’d heard before – about difficulties of getting staff, and all that sort of thing. I also expected that some of the plaintiff’s evidence would be contradicted, but by and large I felt that the picture painted by the plaintiff would be likely to stick, even after the defendants had called all their evidence. In consequence, I was wholly unprepared for Mr Cutworthy’s version of the story.
    ‘Well, Mr Cutworthy,’ asked Mr Carstairs, ‘what d’you say about the plaintiff’s evidence in this matter?’
    ‘What do I say?’ said Mr Cutworthy. ‘I say that I think he must have gone to a different hotel.’
    ‘D’you mean that?’ I asked.
    ‘Certainly, your honour,’ said Mr Cutworthy. ‘I’ve been to the sort of establishment which the plaintiff has described. It’s nothing like mine. For