Anthony Hope

“ Mr. Saffron came back, greeted again by Beaumaroy’s courtly bow and Hooper’s vaguely reminiscent but slovenly military salute. The pair sat down to a homely beefsteak; but the golden tinted wine gurgled into their glasses. But, before they fell to, there was a little incident. A sudden, but fierce, anger seized old Mr. Saffron. In his harshest tones he rapped out at the Sergeant, “My knife! You careless scoundrel, you haven’t given me my knife!”
Beaumaroy sprang to his feet with a muttered exclamation: “It’s all my fault, sir. I forgot to give it to Hooper. I always lock it up when I go out.” ”

“ The love of rebellion, of making foolish the wisdom of the wise, of hampering the orderly and inexorable treatment of people just as, according to the best modern lights, they ought to be treated, this lawless love was strong in Beaumaroy. ”

“ During the talk Hooper had been to a cupboard and mixed a glass of whisky and soda. He brought it to Beaumaroy and put it on a small table by him. Beaumaroy regarded his squat paunchy figure, red face, small eyes (a squint in one of them) , and bulbous nose with a patient and benign toleration.
“Since you can’t expect, Sergeant, to prepossess the judge and jury in your favor, the instant you make your appearance in the box——”
“Here, what are you on to, sir?”
“It’s the more important for you to have it clearly in your mind that we are laboring in the cause of humanity, freedom, and justice. ”