violence when under arrest, and we fear intimidation of the prosecution’s witnesses.’
‘I see. Have you anything to say?’ the magistrate asked Johnny.
As soon as Johnny spoke, the court stiffened slightly, and all of them – audience, Press, lawyers and innumerable coppers – glanced curiously towards the dock. This was evidently not the ordinary African.
‘I wish to ask that you grant me bail, sir, in order that I take law advice, prepare my case, and see my witnesses to defend me. Two white friends of good reputation are here in the court to bail for me.’ (Everyone looked towards the public box.) ‘I undertake no violence to anyone, unlike what has been stated by the police evidence.’
The magistrate mused, then turned. ‘What do you say, Detective-Inspector?’
‘An additional reason that we have, your Worship, for opposing bail, is that the prisoner refused to have his fingerprints taken. We also know the accused consorts with coloured merchant seamen, and have reason to believe he may try to stow away and leave the country without standing trial.’
Laddy Boy muttered something in African.
‘Why wouldn’t you have your fingerprints taken?’ the magistrate asked Johnny, as if he had thereby deprived himself of a curious and amusing experience.
‘My belief, sir, is that here in this country no man is forced to have prints taken of his fingers unless he has been convicted of some crime, which in my life I never have been at any time for any reason.’
The magistrate contrived both to frown and raise his brows. ‘But don’t you think you ought to help the officers in their enquiries?’ he said, in a mild and fatherly way. ‘You know, of course, I could always make an order for you to have them done.’
‘If, sir, you say I must submit to fingerprints, I will. But what is most important to me is that you give me bail, because in my cell I cannot fix to be defended as I should be. I am not a stowaway, and came to England here as proper passenger paying my own fare; and shall not wish to leave in any other way before I stand my trial.’
This speech of Johnny’s seemed a little too voluble, and syntactically unsound, to please the magistrate.
‘No, I don’t think so,’ he said finally. ‘You’ll have every opportunity to prepare your case and take legal advice in custody. Bail refused.’
I turned in a rage to Theodora, but found she’d gone. I went outside the court with Laddy Boy.
‘They put him in Brixton for remand,’ the African said. ‘We go and see him there and bring him liquor.’
‘In prison?’
‘Port wine is allowed for only on remand, but not some spirits,’ he told me. ‘We also take some chicken.’
This seemed to me so irrelevant to the major problems that I wanted to clout Laddy Boy. ‘The thing is to get him a good lawyer and get him out!’ I said crossly.
‘Oh, yes, lawyer,’ said Laddy Boy. ‘You fix him that.’
Theodora reappeared, red-faced and furious. ‘They wouldn’t let me see him,’ she exclaimed. ‘But I spoke to the jailer. He says we can go down to Brixton this afternoon and see him there.’
We walked out in the chilly sun, breathing great gulps of air. I stopped Theodora on the pavement.
‘Doesn’t one thing stick out a mile?’ I said.
‘What sticks out a mile is that the magistrate’s a moron.’
‘Forget about the magistrate, Theodora! Isn’t it obvious that if we can get Muriel to go into the box, he’s free?’
‘Why?’
‘Why? Because if he lived off her moral earnings in the shirt factory, he couldn’t have been living off her sister Dorothy’s immoral earnings on the streets.’
‘He could persuade Muriel – but can we? That’s why they refused him bail,’ cried Theodora. ‘Why isn’t Muriel here, anyway? She’s ratted on him.’
‘You speak of Muriel?’ said Laddy Boy. ‘She leave Johnny some many weeks now.’
‘And who’s he been living with since?’ asked Theodora sharply.
‘Sometimes Dorothy, I think, but he leave her too.’
‘My God!’ cried Theodora. ‘The imbecile!’
‘Laddy Boy,’ I said. ‘You don’t think he did this with Dorothy, do you?’
The sailor looked vaguer than ever. ‘Thing is to get him free,’ he said. ‘What he do, not matter. What matter is get him free.’
‘We’d better go and see Muriel, anyway, and find out,’ I said.
‘Muriel, she with her mother now, Johnny tell me,’ Laddy Boy said, rather indifferently.
We had a not very agreeable lunch together at a fish-and-chip place. Laddy Boy went out shopping, and, when he came back, spent much time