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.Datchery.

'His Honour 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 Honour the Mayor,' said Mr.Datchery, 'is more than kind and gracious.' As Mr.Datchery, 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.Datchery following with his hat under his arm, and his shock of white hair streaming in the evening breeze.
'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.