Perhaps Mr. Datchery had heard something of what had occurred there last winter?
Mr. Datchery had as confused a knowledge of the event in question, on trying to recall it, as he well could have. He begged Mrs. Tope’s pardon when she found it incumbent on her to correct him in every detail of his summary of the facts, but pleaded that he was merely a single buffer getting through life upon his means as idly as he could, and that so many people were so constantly making away with so many other people, as to render it difficult for a buffer of an easy temper to preserve the circumstances of the several cases unmixed in his mind.
‘Might I ask His Honour,’ said Mr. Datchery, ‘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 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 way 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.
In the next sentence the word now is struck out.
‘He had an odd momentary appearance upon him of having forgotten his hat, when Mr. Sapsea now touched it.’
‘I shall come. Master Deputy, what do you owe me?’
‘A job.’
‘Mind you pay me honestly with the job of showing me Mr. Durdles’s house when I want to go there.’
In Chapter xx.:—
‘Yes, you may be sure that the stairs are fireproof,’ said Mr. Grewgious, ‘and that any outbreak of the devouring element would be perceived and suppressed by the watchmen.’
I wished at the time that you had come to me; but now I think it best that you did as you did, and came to your guardian.’
‘I did think of you,’ Rosa told him; ‘but Minor Canon Corner was so near him—’
‘I understand. It was quite natural.’
‘Have you settled,’ asked Rosa, appealing to them both, ‘what is to be done for Helena and her brother?’
‘Why really,’ said Mr. Crisparkle, ‘I am in great perplexity. If even Mr. Grewgious, whose head is much longer than mine, and who is a whole night’s cogitation in advance of me, is undecided, what must I be!’