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Tragedy at Law (Francis Pettigrew, #1) Tragedy at Law by Cyril Hare
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“The ceiling showed ominous stains of damp and the sagging wire mattress of the bed uttered a tired protesting creak when Derek incautiously tried it with his hand. Remembering that this was the room that Beamish had described as "passable", he shivered as he thought of the descending degrees of discomfort to which the staff would be subjected. Leaving the room, Derek duly fell down the two steps outside the door into the dark corridor beyond. He recovered himself and picked his way down three or four further steps into a broader passage, out of which the main rooms of the lodgings opened.”
Cyril Hare, Tragedy at Law
“Marshal," the whisper went on, "ask Pettigrew to lunch."

It was the second day of the assize. The hour was 12.30 p.m. and Pettigrew was just tying the red tape round his second and last brief before leaving the court. Barber, if he had so desired, could have sent his invitation at any time after the sitting of the court that morning. By delaying it to the last moment he must have known that he was combining the pleasures of dispensing hospitality with the maximum of inconvenience to his guest. Such, at least, was Pettigrew's first reflection when, having bowed himself out of court, he finally received the message in the dank and cheerless cell that served as counsel's robing-room at the Shire Hall.”
Cyril Hare, Tragedy at Law
“Like many other people, Mrs. Marshall imagined that business in the criminal courts was a succession of breath-taking thrills, that every case was a drama, every counsel a cross-examiner of genius “who could get anything out of you if he tried”, every speech a torrent of eloquence, every Judge a Solon.”
Cyril Hare, Tragedy at Law