It's obvious on the face of it.

But they chose to bring it in manslaughter, and he's only got five years; while some brainless fool must needs write an article a column and a half long to protest against the disgraceful practice of permitting wrestling or boxing matches, which are a survival of the Dark Ages and a perpetual menace to our civilization! A survival of your grandmother! A nice set of nincompoops the race will develop into if such fools as that get their way! We're soft enough as it is, Heaven knows.

Why couldn't they hang the scoundrel as he deserved?
That's the surest way of putting an end to savagery.

But to stop the sport altogether! It would be tomfoolery!" Piers picked up the paper from the floor and smoothed it out.

He proceeded to study it with drawn brows, and Sir Beverley sat and watched him with that in his stone-grey eyes which no one was ever allowed to see.
"Eat your crumpets, boy!" he said at last.
"What ?" Piers glanced up momentarily.