At 3.10 pm the atmosphere in Courtroom No 2 is heavy, humid. Apparently a storm was forecast. Magistrate James McNeill has dispensed justice to a variety of miscreants and malcontents: two serious driving offenses in which alcohol was a contributory factor, the breach of an AVO. He further dealt, he hoped adequately, with three men of dark complexion and obvious aboriginality on separate but remarkably similar charges of obscene language, bought to the court’s attention, some would argue, by an overzealous constabulary.
There is a pause in the proceedings while the Police Prosecutor arranges papers referring to a number of potential adjournments and two non-appearances, one of which is lost somewhere in the prison system. This allows the magistrate a moment to consult his diary.
The swing doors at the back of the room open and a youngish man in well worn overalls with photo ID firmly attached to his belt enters carrying a stepladder. He bows to the bench and continues his journey to the side of the courtroom, where, utilizing the steps and with only minimal difficulty detaches the wall clock. Retreating, he bows once more to the bench and carries both ladder and clock through the rear doors without further pause.
The clock is described in the inventory as J. DENT OF LONDON, CIRCA 1840 WITH MAHOGANY CASE. Neither it nor the youngish man in overalls and ID are ever seen in the vicinity of the court again, although sometime during that same night, the stepladder rematerializes in front of the Courthouse’s ornate doors.
So bow and out with clock and ladder.
(Court staff have hopes for a speedy return)
No challenge was made over this matter -
Nothing to consider, nothing to learn.
No one took the responsibility
For a clock just vanished without return;
Gone was J Dent’s clock from 1840
No one was talking, felt nothing to learn.