"Of course," said the musician.
"And now we're fighting it. But I don't care if it breaks me, I'll resist it. If necessary I'll take it to the House of Lords."
The third case happened only this morning. I met in the street an artist friend.
"Hullo," I said, "I don't often see you out and about at this hour when there's so little decent daylight."
"No," he said, "it's an awful bore, but I've got to see a lawyer. The fact is I'm in for litigation."
"You?" I cried.
"Yes, me. It's dead against my nature, I know, but this is serious. In the public interest a fellow must do something unpleasant now and then."
"What is it?" I asked, drawing him towards a comfortable resort where cordials against this appalling weather were obtainable.
"The fact is," he said, "my wife's been poisoned."
"Poisoned!"