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Updated: May 7, 2025
Spizey moved ponderously into the box in all the glory of his time-honoured livery. He looked very big, and very consequential, and unusually glum. Meeking, who was not a Hathelsborough man, glanced quizzingly at Spizey's grandeur and at the cocked hat which Spizey placed on the ledge before him. "Er you're some sort of a Corporation official, aren't you, Spizey?" he suggested.
"And to save time and needless explanations, let me begin by saying that, as far as it went, all the evidence your Worships have heard, from the police, from Louisa Speck, from Dr. Pellery, from Spizey and his wife, from everybody, I think, is substantially correct entirely correct, I might say, for I don't remember anything that I could contradict. The whole thing is what does it lead up to?
"Apparitor to his Worshipful the Mayor of Hathelsborough," responded Spizey in his richest tones. "Mace-bearer to his Worship. Town Crier. Bellman. Steward of the Pound. Steward of High Cross and Low Cross. Summoner of Thursday Market. Convener of Saturday Market. Receiver of Dues and Customs " "You appear to be a good deal of a pluralist," interrupted Meeking. "However, are you caretaker of St.
Oh, I've heard talk men in high office, like me, hears a deal. Why, I've heard it said that he's been heard to say, in private, that it was high time to abolish me!" Bunning's mouth opened a little. He was a man of simple nature, and the picture of Hathelsborough without Spizey and his livery appalled him. "Bless me!" he exclaimed. "To be sure!" said Spizey. "It's beyond comprehension!
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