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There were a few very few progressive folk in Hathelsborough who regarded Spizey and his semi-theatrical attire as an anachronism, and openly derided both, but so far nobody had dared to advocate the abolition of him and his livery.
This was Spizey, a consequential person who, in the borough rolls for the time being, was entered as Bellman, Town Crier, and Mace Bearer. Spizey was a big, fleshy man, with a large solemn face, a ponderous manner, and small eyes.
Lawrence tower to the Mayor's Parlour in the Moot Hall? Is that correct?" Dr. Pellery made an old-fashioned bow. "That is absolutely correct!" "I am sure the court is greatly obliged to you, sir," said Meeking, responding to the old man's courtesy. He looked round, and seeing that Stedman made no sign, glanced at the policeman who stood by the witness-box. "Call Stephen Spizey!" he commanded.
He said but you'd scarce believe it! there was no need for a town crier, nor a bellman, and, as for this mace, it could be carried on Mayor's Day by a policeman! Fancy that, now our mace carried by a policeman!" "Dear, dear!" said Bunning. "Don't seem to fit in, that! However," he added consolingly, "if they did abolish you, you'd no doubt get a handsome pension." "Pension!" exclaimed Spizey.
I'm all for keeping up the good old things can't better 'em, in my opinion. And, as you say, that there mace of ours 'tis ancient!" "Nobody but one o' these here Radicals and levellers could talk o' doing away with such proper institutions," affirmed Spizey. "But I tell yer I've heard of it.
Which the place was empty, sir, for all but me and my work, sir." The Coroner motioned Mrs. Spizey to stand down, and glanced at Hawthwaite. "I think this would be a convenient point at which to adjourn," he said. But Hawthwaite's eyes were turned elsewhere. In the body of the court an elderly man had risen.
Spizey, too, readily remembered the evening under discussion and said so, with a sniff which seemed to indicate decided disapproval of her memories respecting it. "What were you doing that evening, Mrs. Spizey?" asked Meeking. "Which for the most part of it, sir, I was a-washing of that very floor as you're a-standing on, sir, me being cleaner to the Moot Hall. That 'ud be from six to eight."
Spizey removed his three-cornered hat, took a many-coloured handkerchief out of it, and wiped his forehead he was in a state of perpetual warmth, and had a habit of mopping his brow when called on for mental effort. "Ah!" he said. "That's just it what about it, do you say? Well, what I say is this here 'taint in accordance with precedent!
Now, as a Corporation official though not, to be sure, of the long standing that I am what do you make of it?" "Make of what?" demanded the caretaker. Spizey came still nearer to his companion. He was one of those men who when disposed to confidential communication have a trick of getting as close as possible to their victims, and of poking and prodding them.
Spizey was on his way to his favourite tavern now, to smoke his pipe which it was beneath his dignity to do in public and drink his glass amongst his cronies, but he stopped to exchange the time of day with Bunning, whom he regarded with patronizing condescension, as being a lesser light than himself.
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