"Who was it, mate?" asked one of them.
"I dare say he'll tell us presently," said Eves, "if you keep it up a little longer."
He had his eyes on the thermometer.
The "comrade from London" got up and spoke earnestly in Noakes's ear, while the chorus continued. The mayor gave a sickly smile and held up his hand. There was silence.
"My friend on my right," said the mayor, "reminds me as there's nothing more powerful than the truth."
"Righto!" yelled the Tommies. "Who—raised——"
"Nobody!" shouted the mayor. "'Tis a lie!"
"What's a lie?" cried one of the men. The others looked enquiringly at Eves.
"I say 'tis a lie!" repeated the mayor. "Mrs. Pouncey pays me five shilling a week, the same as she's paid——"
He stopped, for three parts of the way down the hall there rose a stout figure, with face flushed and bonnet awry. There was a moment's breathless silence, then Mrs. Pouncey, with forefinger outstretched towards the mayor, spoke out.