Red Sky Over Dartmoor by Rea Tony

Author:Rea, Tony
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tony Rea
Published: 2023-12-02T00:00:00+00:00

The One-Armed Solicitor

Oxford wasn’t a bad base. The journeys to Aldershot and Winchester had been straightforward. Getting to London was easier still. Bergeron took a cab from Paddington station to Lincoln’s Inn Fields. He got out carefully, putting a lot of weight onto trusty Soignon. His leg was mending, but anything more than a short walk set it off aching. These cold February mornings didn’t help much, either.

He climbed the steps to the offices of Anderson & Finn, Solicitors at Law. At the polished oak reception desk, he asked for “Mr Gerald Finn, please. A personal call, tell him.”

The receptionist took him up to Gerry’s office. The room smelt of wax polish and stale tobacco. Gerry’s desk was littered with papers, without any obvious organisation about them. Bergeron walked to the nearest bookshelf. There were the sorts of legal texts he might have expected. Then there were others which seemed to be a collection of histories of law, such as Fitzjames’ History of the Criminal Law; Hallam’s The Constitutional History of England from Henry VII [1457] to Sidney II [1760] and Maitland’s History of English Law. Well, the desk’s a mess, but at least Gerry keeps his books in good alphabetical order, thought Bergeron.

He walked over to another bookcase, by the window. Now, he thought, these are philosophies. What are you up to, Gerry? Plato and the other Greeks were there. Then a collection of British texts: JS Mill, Hulme and Bentham. There were books by European philosophers of whom he had heard: Descartes, Kant and Leibniz. There were other volumes by authors unknown to him. He moved to take one of these from the shelf – Nietzsche: Der Antichrist, 1888 – mainly because the title was so intriguing. Instead out popped an unbound book, or portfolio, which had been jammed in beside Nietzsche. In his hand he found a plain, red leather folder without imprint. He opened it in the middle and found poorly typed script with handwritten notes over it. Then he turned to the first page; typed in block capital letters it read TRACTATUS LOGICO-PHILOSOPHICUS BY LUDWIG JOSEF JOHANN WITTGENSTEIN. Never heard of him, thought Bergeron, and he put the portfolio back in its place.

Eventually, the door opened with a creak and Gerry Finn came into the room.

“Good to see you looking so well, Marc.”

“You too, Gerry.”

“Shall we pop out for a drink?”

“No, I’m still finding it painful to walk far. Gerry, have you ever been to Winchester?”

“Not recently. Why?”

“It’s fascinating, actually. The hospital, prison, the barracks and the college – all four of them on the hill. I was there a day or so back and it struck me as somewhat ironic that those four institutions – the prison, the hospital, the barracks and the teacher training college – were all in such proximity overlooking the ancient city and its cathedral. Four very different institutions, yes. But in a sense, all so similar: uniforms, timetables, some in ‘authority’ over the rest, rules and regulations.”

“You’re getting altogether too thoughtful, old man.

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