'Didn't look like it,' said the young man. 'More like a gentle thump on the hooter.'
The sergeant sighed. 'Address,' he said. The constable gave it to him. 'Wait here,' said the sergeant.
He withdrew to a back room. Gaylord Brent had an unlisted number, but the sergeant obtained it from Directory Inquiries. Then he rang it. After a while he came back.
'Mr Gaylord Brent doesn't seem very eager to press charges,' he said.
'That's not the point,' said Chadwick. 'It's not up to Mr Brent to press charges. This is not America. The fact is, an offence of assault has plainly been committed, against the law of the land, and it is up to the police to decide whether to press charges.'
The sergeant eyed him with distaste.
'Know a bit about the law, do you, sir?' he asked.
'I've read some,' said Chadwick.
'Haven't they all?' sighed the sergeant. 'Well now, the police might decide not to press the case.'
'If that is so, I shall have no option but to inform you that if you do not, I'll go back there and do it again,' said Chadwick.
The sergeant slowly drew a pad of charge forms towards him.
'That does it,' he said, 'Name?'
Bill Chadwick gave his name and address and was taken to the charge room. He declined to make a statement, other than to say he wished to explain his action to the magistrate in due course. This was typed out and he signed it. He was formally charged and bailed by the sergeant on his own recognisance of £100 to appear before the North London magistrates the following morning. Then he was allowed to go.
The next day he appeared on remand. The hearing took two minutes. He declined to enter a plea, knowing that such refusal would have to be interpreted by the court as meaning that in due course he might plead not guilty. He was remanded for two weeks and bail was renewed for the sum of £100. As it was only a remand hearing, Mr Gaylord Brent was not present in court. The remand was on a charge of common assault and did not make more than one inch in the local newspaper. No one in the district where Bill Chadwick lived ever read that paper, so no one noticed.
In the week before the case came up a number of anonymous phone calls were received by the new editors of the main daily, evening and Sunday newspapers in Fleet Street and its environs.
In each case the caller tipped off the news editor that star Courier investigator Gaylord Brent would be appearing in connection with an assault case at the North London magistrates' court on the following Monday, in the matter of The Police versus Chadwick, and that it might pay dividends for the editor to send his own staffer rather than rely solely on the Press Association court reporting service.
Most of the editors checked the court list for that court on that day, confirmed the name of Chadwick did indeed appear in the list, and assigned a staffer. No one knew what was afoot, but hoped for the best. As in the trade union movement, the theory of camaraderie in Fleet Street stops well short of practical solidarity.
Bill Chadwick surrendered to his bail on the dot of 10 a.m. and was asked to wait until his case was called. It came at a quarter past eleven. When he entered the dock a quick glance at the press benches confirmed they were full to overflowing. He had noticed that Gaylord Brent, summoned as a witness, was sitting outside the courtroom on one of the benches in the main hall. In British law, no witness may enter the court until he is called to give evidence. Only after giving evidence may he take a seat in the rear of the court and listen to the rest of the case. That caused Chadwick a moment of perplexity. He solved the dilemma by pleading not guilty.
He declined the stipendiary magistrate's suggestion that the case be again adjourned until he had professional legal counsel, and explained he wished to conduct his own defence. The magistrate shrugged but agreed.
The prosecuting officer outlined the facts of the case, or as many as were known, and caused a few raised eyebrows when he mentioned that it was Chadwick himself who had approached PC Clarke in Hampstead that morning with news of the assault. Without further ado he then called PC Clarke.
The young officer took the oath and gave evidence of arrest. Chadwick was asked if he wished to cross-examine. He declined. He was urged again. He declined. PC Clarke was dismissed and took a seat in the rear. Gaylord Brent was called. He mounted the witness box and took the oath. Chadwick rose in the dock.
'Your worship,' he said to the magistrate in a clear voice, 'I have been thinking it over, and I wish to change my plea. To one of guilty.'
The magistrate stared at him. The prosecuting officer, who had risen to examine, sat down. In the witness box Gaylord Brent stood silent.
'I see,' said the magistrate. 'You are sure, Mr Chadwick?'
'Yes, sir. Absolutely sure.'
'Mr Cargill, have you any objection?' the magistrate asked counsel for the Crown.
'No objection, your worship,' said Supt. Gill. 'I must assume the defendant no longer disputes the facts of the case as I have outlined them.'
'No dispute at all,' said Chadwick from the dock. 'They are exactly as they happened.'
The magistrate turned to Gaylord Brent. 'I am sorry you have been troubled, Mr Brent,' he said, 'but it appears you will not now be needed as a witness. You may either leave or take a seat in the rear of the court.'
Gaylord Brent nodded and left the box. He exchanged a further nod with the press benches and took a seat at the back, next to the police constable who had already given his evidence. The magistrate addressed Chadwick.