In the dark patches of the orbits the eyeballs glimmered piercingly.

Long, drooping moustaches, the colour of ripe corn, framed with their points the square block of his shaved chin.
"I am not looking for you," he said curtly.
The Professor did not stir an inch.

The blended noises of the enormous town sank down to an inarticulate low murmur.

Chief Inspector Heat of the Special Crimes Department changed his tone.
"Not in a hurry to get home ?" he asked, with mocking simplicity.
The unwholesome-looking little moral agent of destruction exulted silently in the possession of personal prestige, keeping in check this man armed with the defensive mandate of a menaced society.

More fortunate than Caligula, who wished that the Roman Senate had only one head for the better satisfaction of his cruel lust, he beheld in that one man all the forces he had set at defiance: the force of law, property, oppression, and injustice.