"Navy, sir?" suggested Mr. Sapsea.
"Again," repeated Mr. Datcliery, "His Honor the Mayor does me too much credit."
"Diplomacy is a fine profession," said Mr. Sapsea, as a general remark.
"There, I confess. His Honor the Mayor is too many for me," said Mr. Hatchery, with an ingenuous smile and bow; "even a diplomatic bird must fall to such a gun."
Now, this was very soothing. Here was a gentleman of a great not to say a grand—address, accustomed to rank and dignity, really setting a fine example how to behave to a Mayor. There was something in that third person style of being spoken to, that Mr. Sapsea found particularly recognisant of his merits and position.
"But I crave pardon," said Mr. Hatchery. "His Honor the Mayor will bear with me, if for a moment I have been deluded into occupying his time, and have forgotten the humble claims upon my own, of my hotel, the Crozier."
"Not at all, sir," said Mr. Sapsea. "I am returning home, and if you would like to take the exterior of our cathedral in your way, I shall be glad to point it out."
"His Honor the Mayor," said Mr. Hatchery, "is more than kind and gracious."
As Mr. Hatchery, when he had made his acknowledgments to Mr. Jasper, could not be induced to go out of the room before the Worshipful, the Worshipful led the way down stairs; Mr. Hatchery following with his hat under his arm, and his shock of white hair streaming in the evening breeze.
"Might I ask His Honor," said Mr. Hatchery, "whether that gentleman we have just left is the gentleman of whom I have heard in the neighbourhood as being much afflicted by the loss of a nephew, and concentrating his life on avenging the loss?"
"That is the gentleman. John Jasper, sir."
"Would His Honor allow me to inquire whether there are strong suspicions of any one?"
"More than suspicions, sir," returned Mr. Sapsea, "all but certainties."
"Only think now!" cried Mr. Hatchery.
"But proof, sir, proof, must be built up stone by stone," said the Mayor. "As I say, the end crowns the work. It is not enough that Justice should be morally certain; she must be immorally certain—legally, that is."
"His Honor," said Mr. Hatchery, "reminds me of the nature of the law. Immoral. How true!"
"As I say, sir," pompously went on the Mayor, "the arm of the law is a strong arm, and a long arm. That is the way I put it. A strong arm and a long arm."
"How forcible!—And yet, again, how true!" murmured Mr. Hatchery.
"And without betraying what I call the secrets of the prison-house," said Mr. Sapsea; "the secrets of the prison-house is the term I used on the bench."
