John Jasper, sir.'
'Would His Honour 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. Datchery.
'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 Honour,' said Mr. Datchery, '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 may I put it. A
strong arm and a long arm.'
'How forcible! - And yet, again, how true!' murmured Mr. Datchery.
'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.'
'And what other term than His Honour's would express it?' said Mr.
Datchery.
'Without, I say, betraying them, I predict to you, knowing the iron
will of the gentleman we have just left (I take the bold step of
calling it iron, on account of its strength), that in this case the
long arm will reach, and the strong arm will strike. - This is our
Cathedral, sir. The best judges are pleased to admire it, and the
best among our townsmen own to being a little vain of it.'
All this time Mr. Datchery had walked with his hat under his arm,
and his white hair streaming.
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