juniors or QCs, and that a QC has to have a junior?â
âThatâs just about all I do know.â
âWell, as I was saying, up till a few years before the war, if a junior was led by a QC the junior had to receive two-thirds of the fee charged by the QC. So if you were lucky and led by Carson or F E Smith or someone like that, you might get a fee of 666 guineas for doing a case youâd have been perfectly prepared to do for a hundred, or even less. Doesnât sound very logical, you say?â
âI donât say anything,â said Roger. âIâm listening. I must say, though, I like the sound of 666 guineas. Have you ever had that?â
âI have not, I regret to say. Well, a few years before the war it was agreed that the two-thirds rule should only apply to a fee of 150 guineas or less. Above that it was to be a matter of arrangement.â
âNo more 666,â said Roger, sadly.
âWell, some solicitors were prepared to stick to the old rule. Of course some didnât. But thereâs worse to come. The Committee I mentioned has suggested that the rule should be abolished altogether. The point about the rule is this. By and large, barristers are not overpaid. Indeed much of their work is underpaid. This two-thirds rule is the cream which, when added to the skim milk, makes milk of a reasonable quality. The Committee, while recognizing that barristers are not paid too much, have said something like this: âThis two-thirds rule increases the cost of litigation. If itâs abolished, barristers will have nothing to make up for the lowness of their other fees, but none the less letâs abolish it and good luck to you all.ââ
âWhatâs going to happen?â
âIf you ask me, nothing, but we shall see, my dear fellow, we shall see.â
At that moment Alec came into the room, took away the papers which were in front of Roger and replaced them with a large bundle.
âMr Grimes thinks youâd better look at these,â he said, and went out again. The brief he left was about six to eight inches thick. Roger looked at it for a moment.
âDâyou think Iâll ever be able to cope with anything of this kind?â he asked. âIt makes me despair just to look at it.â
âWell,â said Henry, âit all depends. If you take to the job and are good enough for it, youâll be able to tackle anything in due course. But itâll take time. Letâs hope you only get little stuff to begin with. Otherwise you could come a nasty cropper. When I started I made the most awful bloomer with a case. The solicitors took it away from me in the end, but not before Iâd done a lot of damage. Think of a medical student being allowed to play at pulling out a patientâs appendix and grabbing hold of the wrong thing! I donât even know now whether I was stopped in time. As I said before, itâs funny that weâre allowed to do it. Itâs true that the public canât come to us direct as they can to doctors. But there are plenty of Uncle Georges in the world of solicitors â father Georges even â and, of course, brother Georges â their wretched clients donât know that itâs your first brief.â
âBut,â said Roger, âone has to start some time. Every professional man has to have his first case, whether itâs a doctor, accountant or a barrister.â
âYes,â said Henry, âthatâs true enough, but all professional men, except barristers, have had practical experience first. If a barrister couldnât address the Court until heâs had, say, a year as a pupil, thatâd be reasonable. Jolly good experience for you yesterday, but what about the poor client?â
âI hope he wasnât there,â said Roger.
âOf course,â said Henry, âPeter ought to have been doing it, but he wouldnât really have been any better than
Twelve Steps Toward Political Revelation